Page 5 of Stand: Part One
Sprinting forward, I rushed beyond them to the next thickest tree and crouched low, aiming my rifle again. Two other guards were heading farther away from me, but I lost sight of the fifth one.
Deciding I’d have to risk it, I moved forward from tree to tree until I reached the edge of the woods. When I felt it was clear enough, Camaro and I raced for the garage, securing ourselves behind the wall and listening for any sounds of movement outside.
Hearing nothing after a minute, I strapped my rifle to my back and headed over to the car nearest me, reaching for the door handle.
“Stop,” came a voice from outside.
“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath. Camaro’s growl was deep as she hunched low, ready to pounce.
“Facile,” I said to Camaro, ordering her to ease back. She straightened her back and ceased from growling, but her eyes were still very much set on whoever was behind me.
“Turn around!” he ordered.
Turning my head to the side first, I got a good look at the guard. Tall, thin, greasy hair, and an odd sense of nervousness about him. He stood about ten feet outside the open garage door, a pistol in his hand aimed right at me.
Dropping my hands to my side, my left hand discretely went for the gun at my hip as I turned to the right. Swiftly making the rest of my turn, I drew the pistol and fired before the guard even saw the gun, the red paint splattering against his chest.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered, lowering his gun to his side, but then his eyes landed on my feet, and he narrowed his gaze. “Why are you wearing bunny slippers?”
Son of a bitch.
I shook my head, not feeling sorry for the guy once he realized a very angry dog was about to chew his guts out for not falling down dead as expected.
What was with these guys?
With a snarl, Camaro made her jump for him, charging and knocking him to the ground, but as she did, a loud crack burst through the air, shattering my ears while my back slammed against the car behind me.
The guard screamed as Camaro tore into his arm as he tried to protect his face from her teeth and powerful jaws.
“Camaro, vabasta!”
She immediately released his arm and quickly turned back to stand in front of me, her sights still set on the guard. He sat up with a groan, clutching his bleeding and chewed-up arm, but the second he looked at me, his face instantly paled with horror. And then I felt an odd, warm wetness against my shirt.
“Oh, my God,” the guard murmured. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit!”
Glancing down, I found my shirt and pants were beginning to soak with blood, small droplets falling onto my dirty white bunny slippers. Confusion and distress fogged my brain as I tried to understand why the fuck I was bleeding, or if it was even my blood. Had I gotten injured earlier? Had I hurt someone else? Pain was completely overshadowed by the rush of adrenaline that forced me to focus on the source of the blood flow instead.
“What in the fuck,” I groaned, my arms shaking as I lifted my shirt to look for a possible wound. Fighting the wave of dizziness, I removed the rifle at my back and the utility belt from my waist, shaky hands dropping both haphazardly to the ground.
Gently pulling down the side of my pajama bottoms, my confusion spiked to panic when I noticed a bleeding red hole in my skin just to the right of my pelvis.
Had I actually been shot? With a real bullet?
How?
Reality suddenly ripped away the strength of my legs, causing me to slide down the side of the vehicle. When I planted my ass on the floor of the garage, I quickly found it difficult to continue keeping myself upright for much longer. Camaro growled and trotted to my side, her nose sniffing at the blood as she whined and barked with alarm.
The guard finally stood and rushed toward me, panic in his eyes as they scanned over my body.
“Oh, my God. I…I didn’t know the rounds were live.”
I frowned up at him in confusion.
Live rounds? Did he say live rounds? Why in the fuck would he have live rounds?
Exhaling deep, I gritted my teeth as I looked up at him. “What the fuck do you mean you didn’t know? It’s your gun, you amateur! Your responsibility!”
Darren never allowed live rounds in these kinds of training exercises, especially for me. Ever. So the fact that this guy was unknowingly walking around with live rounds was deeply concerning. If these were the men Darren hired to work for him then we were gonna have words.
