Page 16 of Not This Soon

She ignored his concern, her gaze still fixated on the distant horizon where she thought she saw a blip of movement.

"I need you to head back," she said curtly, handing him the binoculars without looking at him.

Ethan didn't miss a beat. "And let you chase after some phantom all by yourself? I don't think so," he countered.

Rachel finally tore her eyes away from the horizon to give him a pointed look. “I know this terrain. I know how to move through the desert.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t?”

She sighed.

“We’ve got police helicopters inbound,” Ethan said. “We’ll catch him.”

Rachel just scowled, her shoulder still throbbing as the bandage was tied off.

She gave a quick, frustrated shake of her head. The desert was big. And the sniper had the advantage of an ATV.

“They better find him,” Rachel muttered under her breath. “They better.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The sniper clutched his wounded arm, gritting his teeth against the searing pain that radiated from the bullet hole. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his fatigues a dark crimson. He stumbled, his vision blurring as he fought to maintain his balance on the uneven terrain.

"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with anguish. The weight of his actions pressed down on his chest, making each breath a struggle. Images of the life he had taken flashed through his mind, her face etched into his memory like a cruel tattoo.

He staggered forward, his feet sinking into the soft sand with each step. The desert stretched out before him, an endless expanse of barren land that offered no solace or redemption. The sun beat down mercilessly, its heat amplifying the throbbing pain in his arm.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, tears stinging his eyes. "I never meant for it to go this far." The words felt hollow, inadequate in the face of the devastation he had caused. He had crossed a line, one from which there was no return.

The sniper's head pounded, the blood loss taking its toll. He needed medical attention, but the thought of facing the consequences of his actions filled him with dread. How could he ever atone for what he had done?

He stumbled again, his knees buckling under the weight of his guilt.

But deep down, he knew there was no escape.

Behind him, he heard the sound of an approaching helicopter, the bladeswhoop-whoop-whoopingon the desert air. He grimaced, glancing over his shoulder and stumblingforward. “Come on,” he urged himself. “You said,” he whispered under his breath. “You said!”

He looked up at the sky, his eyes narrowed in frustration. “You said!” he called even louder. And for a moment, he forgot the sounds behind him.

The man shifted uncomfortably, finding his chest tightening. An asthma attack. He stumbled forward, one hand fumbling for the inhaler in his pocket while the other remained clamped over his bleeding arm. The desert, once his haven, was now fighting him from all fronts.

Pressing the inhaler to his mouth, he took a deep breath, the medicine offering some relief as it flowed into his lungs. He coughed violently, drops of blood splattering onto the sand. His vision swam as pain threatened to submerge him once again.

Ears straining for the sound of pursuit, he turned back towards his ATV hidden behind a nearby dune, his steps unsteady and slow. His mind raced as he tried to calculate how much distance he had managed to put between himself and them. Not nearly enough.

He grimaced at the realization, fighting back a surge of hopelessness. His prayers, desperate pleas he had thrown into the void were answered with nothing but silence. The agony in his arm flared up again, a vindictive reminder of what he had done. He’d hoped to abandon the ATV—to set out on foot. But they were too fast. He needed more distance.

The ATV roared to life under his touch, its familiar hum grounding him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself onto the vehicle. The sand beneath him shifted restlessly, ready to swallow him.

Behind him, the sound of pursuing vehicles grew louder, echoing across the vast expanse of desert. He clutched the handlebars tighter, his knuckles white from exertion as hepushed the accelerator and sped off into the relentless desert sun.

The roar of the ATV's engine shattered the eerie stillness of the vast desert. Gripping the handlebars with his uninjured hand, the sniper navigated the treacherous terrain, his desperation growing with each passing moment. The sun beat down mercilessly, the heat oppressive and unrelenting.

Even with the weight of guilt and remorse heavy in his heart, the primal instinct to survive spurred him on.

His eyes flitted between the path ahead and the mirror attached to his ATV. A cloud of dust billowing in the distance confirmed his biggest fear; they were gaining on him. The hard edge of panic gnawed at his mind as he accelerated, pushing the ATV beyond its limits.

"Please..." he whispered to himself, to God. His voice was a hoarse plea above the ATV's drone and the relentless howl of the wind, "Please... help me."

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