Page 69 of Solid as Steele
She inhaled deeper. Let it out.
That’s it. In. Out. In. Out. Now think. Think!
“I’m fine.” She clutched her arm. Blood seeped from her sleeve and coated her fingers. Was she really fine? No vital organs hit of course, but what about arteries? She didn’t know her anatomy. Could she bleed out?
No. Please. No.
Another shot rang out, the bullet piercing the other side of the truck with a solid ping. The side near Owen.
“Owen!” she screamed. “Are you hurt?”
“Fine.” His voice came from low to the ground. “You still doing okay?”
“Took a bullet to my arm.” She hated how terrified she sounded. “Not sure how bad it is.”
“I’ve pinpointed where the shots came from,” he yelled back. “We should be safe at the front of the truck. Can you get around there?”
“Yes,” she answered, but had no idea if she could actually fight the wooziness threatening to take her under.
“We trained you,”she heard her grandad and dad say.“You can do this. Keep your head and act rationally.”
They were right. Her panic was what was threatening to take her out. Not the pain.
She breathed in. Out. In. Then rolled to her belly and used one arm to army crawl backwards to the safe zone. She inched back. Slow but sure, reaching the front of the tire.
Owen met her on her side. He was also on his stomach.
Another rifle report. The bullet hit the dirt by her head. She cried out.
“Hold tight.” Owen grabbed her good hand, clutching with a death grip, dragging her the final distance to safety.
She rolled over and sat up. The area swam before her eyes.
“Is the bleeding under control?” Owen asked, his tone calmer now.
The blood’s warmth continued to seep into her jacket, but she didn’t think the wound was life-threatening. “It’ll be fine. Where do you think the shooter is positioned?”
“To our south. Just moved though to get off that last shot. Probably behind the barn or in it.”
“Plan?” she asked as she didn’t have the presence of thought to come up with one.
“Only two options. Stand to try to draw and return fire. Or call 911 and hunker down here until a deputy arrives.”
“Drawing fire’s too risky.”Especially with me only having one arm to use.
“My thoughts too. What’s the address here?”
She shared it with him, and he called 911. His phone must be set to dark mode as it emitted very little light.
“This is Detective Owen Greer with Clark County Sheriff’s Office.” He shared his badge number. “I’m taking gunfire at a rental cabin.” He rattled off the address. “Suspect is likely located at the barn. We’re out of the line of fire at the moment, on the ground in front of my pickup truck, but that could change. One person injured.”
He listened, tapping his foot on the ground.
“See that they do.” He ended the call and lowered his phone. “A deputy’s a few minutes out, and they’ve made our call a priority.”
A vehicle’s motor roaring to life came from the barn area. They would both have to stand to be able to see the barn, risking their lives. Without discussing it, neither of them moved, but she cocked her head to listen.
The engine rumbled. Lights cut into the night. Tires raced over the gravel drive, heading away from the house.
