Into the Fire by Kyla Stone

Author:Kyla Stone [Stone, Kyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Paper Moon Press
Published: 2019-07-15T05:00:00+00:00

37

Logan

Logan watched a round slam into the pine tree not a foot above Dakota’s head. She ducked as shards of bark sprayed everywhere. She might not be so lucky next time.

Fury filled him. This wasn’t his home. He didn’t know Ezra or these Collier guys. He owed nothing to anyone.

Except to her. For her, he’d happily mow down anyone and everyone in his path.

He understood hunger and desperation to survive, even stealing from the dead or from empty homes. But not from the living.

They’d already given these scumbags a second chance. They were shooting at Dakota. Enough was enough.

The world sharpened. Every leaf, every twig. Sound faded away but for the rush of blood in his ears. He tensed, teeth clenched, every muscle coiled and ready.

That cold, hard calm descended. His head was clear.

He barreled through the woods, moving quickly, searching for targets, firing a few warning shots to keep them ducking for cover instead of shooting at him. Aim, exhale, squeeze. Aim, exhale, squeeze.

He went for Sal.

The fat man whirled, his hiding spot behind the bushes useless. He scrambled to a seated position, swinging his shotgun around to aim at Logan crashing toward him like an enraged rhinoceros.

Logan wasn’t as accurate on the move as he was from a still, braced position, but he didn’t need to be. He had the element of surprise, he was close, and Sal presented a large target.

He fired two quick shots, dodging to the left to avoid a couple of pine trees, then fired twice more.

The first shot missed. The second drilled into the man’s belly, the third skimmed his left shoulder. The fourth nailed him dead center in the chest.

The shotgun slid from Sal’s limp fingers. He let out a few gargled gasps as he toppled onto his side, his head slamming into the base of a pine tree. He remained that way, slumped awkwardly, his thick neck bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes open and staring.

Logan grabbed the guy’s gun, slid the strap over his shoulder, and kept moving. By his count, he only had a few rounds left. It was as good a time as any to reload his own weapon. Still hustling through the underbrush, he released the nearly spent magazine, traded it for a new one in his pocket, and jacked the fresh one into place.

He paused behind a thin screen of skinny trees just before the highway. He raised the AR-15 and scanned the area, searching for movement.

Zane and Archer emerged from the opposite tree line about forty yards south, their weapons up, tense and ready.

A shot rang out. He ducked. So did Zane and Archer.

Archer pointed ahead of Logan, to the north.

Movement snagged his gaze—someone ducking down after firing a shot. It’d come from the abandoned SUV further up the road on his side.

Dakota was supposed to take care of it. Something must’ve happened.

Adrenaline surging, he circled around the white Ford Escape.

Three figures huddled against the grille.

“Don’t shoot!” the blonde woman—Brenda—cried. Mascara tracked down her cheeks.

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