Page 12 of Not This Soon

There… along a ridge, near dark shrubs…

She frowned. The prickle along her spine heightened, and her hands clenched.

Rachel's eyes narrowed, her body tensing as she scanned the barren landscape. There, in the distance, a glimmer caught her attention. Sunlight reflecting off metal.

"Get down!" she yelled, already moving.

She cursed under her breath, flinging herself at Ethan with all her strength. They tumbled down the side of the dune, a tangle of limbs and sand. Gunshots erupted, the sound deafening in the stillness of the desert.

Rachel felt the heat of a bullet whizzing past her ear, too close for comfort. She rolled to the bottom of the dune, dragging Ethan with her. They came to a stop in a hollow, momentarily shielded from the sniper's view.

"You okay?" Rachel panted, her heart hammering in her chest.

Ethan nodded, his face pale. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good." She reached for her gun, the metal hot against her palm. "But we won't be for long if we don't get out of here."

She risked a glance over the top of the dune. The glimmer was gone, but she knew the sniper was still out there. Waiting. Watching.

"We need to move," she said, her mind racing. "Find cover."

Ethan looked around, his eyes wide. "Where? There's nothing but sand for miles."

Rachel gritted her teeth. He was right. They were sitting ducks out here, exposed and vulnerable. But they couldn't stay put either. The sniper would pick them off like fish in a barrel.

"We run," she said, her voice grim. "Zigzag pattern. Make ourselves harder targets. To the dune there—they can’t reposition to hit us.”

Ethan swallowed hard, but nodded. "Okay. On three?"

Rachel took a deep breath, her finger tightening on the trigger. "On three.”

She counted down silently in her head. Three. Two. One.

Then they were up and running, sand spraying beneath their feet as they zigzagged across the dunes. Gunshots cracked and whined around them, but they didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Rachel's lungs burned, her legs screaming with the effort. But she pushed on, focused on the distant line of scrub brush that promised some meager cover.

Just a little further, she told herself. Just a little further.

Another shot rang out, this one kicking up sand just inches from Rachel's pounding feet. She cursed, her heart slamming against her ribs. The sniper was toying with them, leading their desperate sprint with mocking potshots.

Ethan stumbled beside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Rachel grabbed his arm, hauling him upright without breaking stride. They couldn't afford to slow down. Couldn't give the sniper an easy target.

The scraggly brush loomed closer, tantalizingly near. Just a few more yards. Rachel's vision tunneled, her entire world narrowing to that one patch of cover.

Almost there. Almost—

Pain exploded in her shoulder, a white-hot lance of agony that sent her sprawling. She hit the ground hard, sand filling her mouth and nose. Dimly, she heard Ethan shouting her name, felt his hands on her, dragging her those last few feet into the meager shelter of the brush.

CHAPTER THREE

Rachel blinked sand from her eyes, trying to focus through the haze of pain. Her shoulder throbbed in time with her racing heart, hot blood soaking her shirt. The two of them hunkered down behind the shrubbery and north-facing sand dune.

Rachel breathed slowly, keeping her heartbeat slow.

"Let me see." Ethan's voice was tight with worry as he carefully peeled back the fabric.

Rachel gritted her teeth against a groan. "Just a graze," she managed. "I'm fine. Bullet didn’t connect with meat.”

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