If done correctly and efficiently, you could move to a new cover spot every thirty-five to forty seconds, depending on how far away the next place you selected for cover was. Of course that was in training, with no threat of return fire. Kyle’s current pace was noticeably slower.
Kyle had been moving forward in this fashion for ten minutes when he caught a glimpse of the road far below through a break in the trees. He paused where he was, studying the forest and what he could see of the road, watching for any sign of someone tracking him or movement in the opposite direction. Reassured he was alone, he proceeded onward, adjusting his course to drop more directly towards the road.
Nervous, he moved forward, selecting the thickest trees for cover, each time having to force himself from their protective shelter and into the open, risking his life with every move. He’d dropped down to about fifty yards above the highway when he heard Garfield snort some distance back. It gave him a feel for where he was, but also strained his nerves further, knowing he was between his horse and the shooter, and that it wouldn’t be far, or long, before the situation was resolved, one way or another.
Kyle leaned back against the tree and uttered a short prayer, something he found himself doing more often, then slowly crept towards a fallen tree ten yards below that he’d selected as his next point of concealment. He reached it and dropped down, breathing hard. The trunk of the tree was large, more than three feet in diameter at the base where he was hiding. The root cluster had torn out of the ground and stood over six feet in the air, the tree having had the misfortune of growing in a rocky patch of ground that had forced the roots out and not down.
His cover was excellent, the tree providing a thick wall of wood and branches to conceal him along with a decent view of the road below. He even caught a glimpse of Garfield, who was now grazing calmly and alone on the side of the river. Kyle knelt down and scanned the area again, peering over the trunk, studying the road, and watching for anyone moving along it. With the fallen tree providing such great cover, Kyle decided he would wait things out. If nothing happened before dark, he’d retrieve his horse and make a quick dash out of there, and if something happened before then, well, he’d just play that out as it happened.
He waited twenty minutes, with every sense on edge and ready to react, but there was nothing. He was about to find somewhere to relieve himself, a need he’d had since arriving at the tree, when he heard the snap of a branch, a sound too loud to be natural.
Kyle shrank back against his cover, his brain filtering out the sounds of wind and water and birds, listening for any additional signs that would indicate a person – a cough, a sneeze, footsteps, voices, anything that would let him know whether to relax or attack. He gripped his gun in both hands, ready, but not anxious to shoot, especially when there was a good chance he could be shot in the exchange.
Hearing nothing, Kyle silently shifted, turning his body so he could look through a gap in the roots of the tree. Moving his head slowly to the side, he peered through a two-inch opening in the direction he expected the shooter to come from and where the noise had originated.
He choked off a gasp as two figures, bundled in hats and heavy coats, with rifles in hand, moved stealthily through the trees no more than fifteen yards away and heading towards him. His heart skipped, and it was all he could do to keep from jumping up and running, so strong was his urge to escape. He stayed motionless, not wanting his movement to draw their attention.
Kyle was confident he hadn’t been seen, as their attention was focused towards the road and away from where he was, and they would likely have been more evasive had they known he was there. Suddenly, one of the figures motioned towards the fallen tree, and they began moving towards him. Kyle drew his head back slowly, his thoughts racing, trying to decide what to do. He could hear their footsteps, careful and methodical and cautious, drawing closer.
One handgun against two rifles was bad odds, even with the element of surprise. Kyle extended his legs, gripped the gun a little tighter, placed a shaking finger on the trigger, and rolled against the fallen tree, tucking under it as much as he could while trying to silence his breathing.
Dirt crunched and twigs popped, sending shockwaves through Kyle’s body as the footsteps drew nearer.
“See anything?” The voice was low and wary.
Kyle placed them no more than five feet away, just the other side of the tree he hid behind. He listened for a reply that didn’t come, the question likely just eliciting a shake of the head.
“Keep watching. I need to take a leak,” the voice instructed.
Kyle lay still, too scared to blink, cold sweat running down his back. He heard the sound of a zipper, then splashing only a couple of feet from his head. They were using the other side of his cover as a toilet. If this had been paintball, they’d have had a good laugh about it later. But the reality was, at least one of them would likely be dead before lunchtime.
He waited, not daring to move, as the splashing became intermittent, then stopped. Pine needles crunched as the man stepped away. Kyle lay still, trying to determine how quick and silent he could be getting to his feet. However fast it was, he was sure it wouldn’t be faster than they could turn and pull a trigger.
There was a different voice, softer, feminine. “You think he’s dead?”
“Pretty sure. You aimed too high, but my shot hit him in the chest. I saw him go down. If I hit the heart, he was done almost immediately. If I missed the heart, then he’s had plenty of time to bleed out. We’re good.”
There was a pause in the conversation, then a question from the woman. “Should we just take the horse and be done, or do we have to make sure he’s dead?”
“I know you hate it, but you always confirm your kill. That’s why we’re taking our time and going this route. The body can take some pretty serious damage before shutting down. We don’t want an unexpected bullet coming between us, do we? Let’s just do this. Stay close, and keep your head up.”
Kyle listened as they walked away, their footsteps growing fainter. He waited and listened, giving them time to move further away before rolling from his cover and getting back into a kneeling position behind the tree.
The two figures traveled sideways across the hill, their attention focused on the road and trees in front of them, their backs to Kyle. He had to act before he was discovered and while they were still close enough for his gun to be accurate. Shooting someone was terrible. The thought of shooting someone in the back, a man or a woman, was hard to fathom, yet here he was. The people were still close, a hundred feet or so, and were big targets he was sure he could hit.
He raised his gun, aimed at the larger of the two, clenched his teeth, put pressure on the trigger, then hesitated. Part of him wanted to run away and just escape, but he needed his horse and everything on it. The targets were getting further away, becoming smaller. Kyle shook his head briefly, whispered “God forgive me,” and began to fire. He pulled the trigger quickly, firing three times before the target reacted, falling forward and down in a violent, jerking spasm.
Kyle heard a scream and fired at the second figure as it launched sideways behind the cover of a tree. Kyle fired again, sending a chunk of wood spinning away and leaving a blonde gash in the tree where the bullet struck. He lowered his head and watched the figure, but could only see a sliver of her arms and legs that wasn’t hidden by the tree.
The body on the ground was motionless and made no sounds of distress or pain. Kyle guessed the man was dead, as his shots had been well grouped in the center of the man’s back, likely taking out his spine and vital organs. Kyle’s eyes jumped back and forth between the figure on the ground and the one hiding behind the tree.