Page 4 of Viral Justice

He’d taken a vow to preserve life, but the kind of animals who could plan and execute this terrible act of horror, with achildas a weapon, could not be allowed to continue breathing.

That wasn’t going to improve his immediate situation. The boy was still walking forward and appeared to be looking for something. A target? In a moment, Max and Franz were going to be visible.

He sucked in a deep breath and prepared to leave the relative safety of the doorway. Perhaps he could talk the boy into surrendering. Franz and Alicia would have no doubt argued with him about that plan, but the German was still out cold and Alicia too far away.

He stood and walked toward the teen.

The young man saw him and took a second to stare at Max. An expression of recognition and fear flashed across the boy’s face, and Max knew he was in trouble.

Someone had sent a child to kill him.

If he walked away, would the kid follow? How close did the bomber want to get before detonating the explosives? If there were no eyes on the boy, could he be convinced to abandon his mission?

Max sidestepped away from the doorway, then walked backward. “You don’t have to do this,” he called to the boy. “We can help you, keep you safe.”

The boy followed, picking up his pace to close the distance between them. “They said they will kill my sister and brother if I don’t,” the boy said, his voice bleak and hopeless.

Max was about to turn and run when the young man jerked once, and pitched forward to land on his hands.

Someone had shot the would-be bomber, wounded him.

Shots pinged off the stone wall of the building behind Max and peppered the area around the child bomber. At least one of them hit the boy and he crumpled. Max ducked and ran back to the relative safety of the doorway where he’d left Franz.

Return fire halted the rain of bullets. Max waited for more, but none materialized.

Had Stone taken out the shooter? Or was he being lured out into the open?

He glanced back at Franz. A sizable blood pool had formed around the man’s head. His head wound might be worse than Max had first thought.

Since no one had fired any shots at him for nearly half a minute, he took a chance and rushed back to their vehicle and pulled a first aid kit from the rear seat. It looked completely intact. He ran back to Franz, put on a pair of gloves and began searching for the source of the bleeding. It didn’t take long to find a deep five- or six-inch long cut along the back of the German’s head.

He pulled out a roll of gauze and a large non-stick pad, and proceeded to carefully stanch the bleeding.

The sound of several pairs of booted feet running toward his hiding place had him glancing up.

A contingent of soldiers in US Army uniforms surfaced out of the smoke.

“I need a medical team here now.” Max didn’t wait for a reply, but concentrated on getting the bleeding under control.

American soldiers filtered through the area, some to look for more bodies, others to investigate, while some stood watch. He ignored them until he had Franz ready to transport. By that time a group of combat medics had arrived and they were able to take the German soldier away to a nearby hospital.

Max searched the wreckage for more injured, but everyone still alive had been identified by the medics, and was in various stages of being removed from the area.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Stone demanded.

He turned and stared at her and the rifle she carried, a sick feeling churning his gut. “Did you shoot the suicide bomber?”

“I wounded him. The sniper who was trying to nail your ass from the roof over there finished the kid off.” She stepped up to him and poked his chest with a finger. “You’re lucky I shot that asshole before he shot you. I also saw you step away from cover and allow that bomber to ID you.” She paused, then asked with heavily laden sarcasm, “Do you have a death wish, Colonel?”

If he did, he wasn’t alone. He raised one eyebrow as he drawled, “You’re the one who stayed out in the open to play shooter.”

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