CHAPTER TWELVE
August 30, 2013, 10:15 a.m.
Two and a Half Miles Southeast of White Horse Lake
Coconino National Forest, Arizona
Tucked behind a tall ponderosa pine, I tried to wipe the sweat from my eyes with the soiled left sleeve of my Blackhawk shirt. I hefted the AK-103 and pressed the short stock into my sore shoulder. I moved my face around the stock until I established a comfortable cheek-weld, where I could focus on the front sight. I looked down the barrel toward the bend in the trail where the assailants would appear in the next few moments.
Though apprehensive, I held the pistol grip of the rifle firmly. The index finger of my right hand longed for the trigger.
Through sheer force of will, I managed to regulate my breathing. I had less success controlling the tremble in my
