Page 62 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Kellen peered around the tree.

From her right side, a rifle thundered, ninety degrees from the last one.

Crap. There was more than one of them.

She vaulted up the hill after Rae, picked her daughter up by the waist and sprinted zigzag toward a boulder, a clump of trees, another boulder.

Shots followed, some from below, some from the side, some from above the tree line.

Kellen’s mind clicked off the possibilities. Three or four shooters. Trying to corner Kellen and Rae, maybe send them away from the Restorer, back down the mountain and into the arms of more mercenaries.

No. Kellen heaved Rae over the top of a four-foot high boulder, vaulted over it, knelt beside her daughter and waited for a shot from that side. If it came, they were surrounded.

Nothing. So one direction to go—first sideways along the tree line, then up the slope and into the fog.

For the moment, they were safe here. Kellen put down the backpack, found the defective computer tablet, pulled it out and turned it on. She looked up, ready to explain her tactic, and saw Rae, round-eyed and with a trembling lip. “Are you okay?”

“You hurt me.” Rae hugged her ribs.

“I’m sorry.” Kellen was, for all the reasons. “I’m going to create a diversion.” The tablet was heating in her hand. “I need you to stay low and run as fast as you can. Can you do that?”

A shot hit the rock above their head.

Rae nodded, an exaggerated up-and-down movement.

Kellen leaned sideways and assessed the landscape. One shooter’s likely cover: a once-tall hemlock laid flat, its roots ripped from the ground by last winter’s wind. He was in a good position to nail them. “Rae, go that way.” She pointed toward a stand of trees, stunted and warped from the high winds that blasted off the Pacific.

Rae ran.

Kellen skipped bullets along the top of the log—and flushed him out. She fired again, a barrage of six bullets, more than she could spare. But she nailed him. His leg spurted red, flailed beneath him. He screamed and went down. Lucky shot at this distance, but she didn’t take the time to congratulate herself. She sprinted after Rae, zigzagged toward a windswept pile of downed branches and needles and flung the tablet in among them. With luck...

She raced behind a tree, then another tree, then another, then into a clump of shrubs.

Shots followed her every time.

One shooter down, two or three left. Stormtroopers who couldn’t hit anything. Or Kellen would be dead already.

She sprinted to the clump of trees where Rae hid, heard the barrage of shots, felt the slam of a bullet against her left arm between her elbow and wrist. Like a baseball player, she slid through the low-hanging tangled branches and into shelter and scrambled onto her knees.

Rae gasped. “Blood, Mommy!”

“I know.” Kellen had been shot before. It never got easier. This burned like hell and bled a river, and until she pulled back the torn material, she feared it had sliced through an artery. But no. The bullet had slipped through her flesh like a hot knife through butter, a clean slice of pain that bled too freely and needed stitches. “It’s okay. I probably won’t lose my arm.” An Army joke, an offhand way to say it wasn’t fatal.

Rae burst into tears.

Wrong thing to say, Kellen. Again.“It’s just a scratch. I promise. And you can’t cry. I need you to help me.”

“I don’t know how to shoot.” The child was trembling. “But I can try.”

“Not that. Darling, you don’t have to shoot anyone.” Kellen rolled up her sleeve.

“I can throw a rock.”

“No rocks. We’re not that desperate yet.” Kellen realized the shooting had stopped, and she held up one finger. She heard the soft fast shuffle of light footsteps. In a whisper, she said, “Not this time...someone’s sneaking toward us. Be small.”

Rae hunched down, wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.

In her mind, Kellen reconstructed the terrain. These trees, the cliff, the entrance to the canyon...the rocks whose shelter they had left. Whoever stalked them had followed Kellen’s trail. Very smart. How unfortunate. She didn’t want smart trackers, especially one moving at that speed. She didn’t have time for subterfuge. She had to get off a shot. On her belly, she crawled around a tree trunk, stuck her head out and ducked back.

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