“This is a Weathersby Vanguard S2 Sporter bolt-action 30–06 sniper rifle with a Nikon Monarch 3-12X42 BDC scope.”
“Damn, son, you know your weapons,” Jack Nash commented with admiration.
Xander looked at him with that same nervous expression Tiffany had noticed. “So what’s the problem?” she asked.
“I’ve never actually fired one… not really. They were part of the arsenal in Havoc II.”
“What’s Havoc II?” Doris asked.
“It’s a damn video game,” Tiffany answered with disgust. “You mean you know all about the weapon but you’ve never fired the real thing? That’s just great.”
“I do know how to shoot a handgun, but not a rifle.”
Tiffany took the Vanguard from him. It was a bolt-action, single shot. She opened the chamber and took the bullets Doris handed her. “You damn city folk,” she said. “You couldn’t find your ass if it was on fire. Give him the Glock, Doris, but you might load it first.”
The white-haired woman handed him the handgun. “There’s already a magazine in it — fifteen rounds. And here’s another. Just pull the slide back to cock it.” After that, she went in the bedroom and returned with a small .22 rifle. “More my size, anyway,” she said. “Now the two of you head out the front. We’ll slow them down from here.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Tiffany said. “These guys are trained killers. You might take out a couple of them, but then they’ll just blast your house to pieces.”
“That’s covered in our homeowner’s insurance,” Jack said with a smile. His eyes were bright, as if he was enjoying the moment. “Now go.”
Xander took Tiffany by the arm. “C’mon. The only way to save them is by leading the bad guys away from here.”
Tiffany nodded before allowing Xander to drag her through the front door. “I’m sorry!” she cried out before the door slammed shut.
“They’re going to get killed!” she said as they ran down the driveway.
“Not if we can draw the attackers away from the house.”
They met up with the small, single-lane paved road that wound down the mountain and into town. Slick with ice, still solid in the cold of the morning shadow, Xander slipped and slid a good twenty feet down the hill before coming to a rest. Tiffany helped him to his feet, just as they heard the first loud staccato of gunfire, the first being several low-pitch booms, followed by the buzz of small-caliber automatic weapons fire. Then more booms, along with the occasional pop-pop of the .22. Ginger was still barking, at least until a sharp yelp sounded and the dog fell silent.
Tiffany leveled her rifle in the general direction of the Nashes’ backyard and let off several shots. The automatic weapon fire ceased, as did the sound of Jack’s shotgun. A few seconds later there was another boom-boom, and then nothing.
“They’re coming this way!” Xander yelled out.
“That was the idea. I just hope it’s not too late.”
There were more homes on this street, and the gun battle had brought many of the residents out on their porches to see what was happening. With the attacks from yesterday being broadcast on every channel, people were on edge, although none had truly believed that the violence could reach them. But now there was gunfire in their peaceful mountain retreat.
Xander caught the eye of an intense-looking couple, just before they ducked back in their home and bolted the door shut. Without warning, Tiffany grabbed his arm and pulled, causing him to slip and fall on the icy road again.
“What the hell, Tiffany?” he scolded.
“I have an idea. Follow me.”
They ran toward a turn in the road next to a large, two-story cabin. She moved along the side of the home before snatching the large plastic lid off a trash can. “This will do,” she said. “See, no handle, just side latches.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Just over there is an area the kids use to sled down in the winter. I used to do it, too, when I was younger. It goes all the way down to Pine Crest.”
“You want us to ride the lid down the hill?”
“Yep. It’s either that or face off against those killers. In my opinion, sledding would be a lot more fun.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
Tiffany ran to the crest of a small ridge and looked over. “There’s not a lot of snow, but enough. You get on first, on your belly. I’ll lie down on your back. Watch out for the rifle. I don’t want to lose it.”
The small pile of snow next to them began to erupt at spots, like miniature geysers, followed by the distant echoes of gunfire from up the hill.
“Hurry!” Tiffany called out.
Xander fell on the plastic saucer just as Tiffany’s full weight pressed down on his back. His face was precariously close to the ground, and as the disk began to slide off the ridge, it dipped and he took in a mouthful of dirty snow.
Then the slope suddenly fell off under them, and in less than a second the saucer was racing down the hill at breakneck speed. The path they followed was well-worn, having been used for years by neighborhood kids. Most of it was wide, even though in parts it narrowed to only twenty feet or so between trees and huge, granite boulders. Xander did his best to steer the saucer by shifting his weight, yet it was Tiffany who had the most skill. She rode his back, with both of her hands gripping his shoulders as she leaned left and right.
They were really moving now, trees just a blur zipping by. Then Xander heard an “Uh oh,” from Tiffany just before she rolled hard to her left, taking him with her. They rolled off the garbage can lid together and began tumbling in the thin layer of snow. Arms flailed and jackets tore as they hit pockets of dirt mixed in with the patchwork of snow.
As he trundled, Xander noticed the blue plastic lid take flight off a sharp rise at the end of the run… and then he plowed headfirst into a two-foot high snow bank at the base of a tall pine tree. He hit something hard that stopped him completely, and found himself sitting in a pile of snow with his back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, his vision as wobbly as his other senses.
He heard a yell, and turned just in time to see Tiffany Collins fly off the same small sharp rise in the run as had the trash can lid. Her cry trailed off as she disappeared over the ledge.
Xander climbed to his feet, a little groggy but otherwise unharmed, and plodded though the snow to the point where the woman and the trash lid had disappeared. The sled run ended where it met Pine Crest road, just before the dirt road that led to Tiffany’s cabin. Kids had apparently built a dirt launching ramp at this point that was now covered in a layer of snow, where the most-daring would attempt to soar over the road before landing on another downhill slope, where the ride could continue. The lid didn’t make it; it was half buried in snow at the far side of the road. Tiffany, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Xander scampered over the ledge and onto the wet asphalt of Pine Crest Road. He ran to the other side, where the trail continued, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the newscaster hiking up the right side of the trail about thirty yards below. When she was reached the road, Xander extended an arm and helped her over the last pile of snow.
“I forgot about that part,” she said in her defense. “I do remember it being a lot more fun in the past. I nearly smacked into a tree.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, nothing broken, but I did lose the rifle somewhere. I’d hate to have some kids find it.”
She started to walk across the street before Xander stopped her. “We don’t have time for this. The bad guys could slide down here, too.”
“You’re right, of course. But we don’t have a car, and I doubt if we can reach your crazy helicopter before they catch up.”