29
Peter
I’m moving before I fully register the crack of the sniper’s rifle.
It’s instinctive, purely automatic.
I have only one agenda.
Survive long enough to protect Sara and the baby.
As always in such situations, my thoughts are clear and sharp.
Sniper at five o’clock, identity unknown.
One agent dead. The rest about to open fire.
Nine opponents in front of me. Sara and her parents behind me.
I seize the M4 from the agent whose brains I’m wearing, and throw myself sideways as I spray his colleagues with bullets, aiming at where I know the gaps in their armor are likely to be.
I need to draw their fire away from Sara, to have them focus on me as the sole threat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sara’s parents dragging her inside the house. She’s screaming something, but it
