Chapter 7
The second shot slammed into the dirt berm ten yards short of the fuel valves, kicking up a violent geyser of brown earth and pulverized concrete. The shockwave rattled the corrugated metal roof overhead, sending a cascade of dust down onto the concrete floor. Elena dropped smoothly into a prone position on the damp ground, ignoring the dirty puddles and grease smudges that immediately stained the knees of her grey jumpsuit. She wedged the heavy stock firmly into her shoulder, her breathing instantly dropping into a low, controlled rhythm that completely divorced her from the chaos swirling around the firing range.
Commander Vance dropped to one knee beside her, holding his tactical binoculars to his eyes, scanning the jagged ridgeline six hundred yards away. “I don’t see movement,” he hissed, his voice tense. “They’re using a ghost blind—probably tucked behind the old concrete water tower ruins.”
“They aren’t moving because they don’t have to,” Elena murmured, her eye glued to the high-magnification scope. The world through her lens was clear, magnified, and horribly intimate. Through the glass, she could see the distinct silhouette of a bipod-mounted rifle barrel protruding from the rust-eaked concrete ribs of the ruined water tower. Behind it, a dark figure in matching camouflage sat perfectly still, adjusting the windage turret for a third and final shot that would undoubtedly find its mark on the vulnerable fuel junction.
“Can you make the shot?” Vance demanded, his fingers tightening around the radio handset as he prepared to order a blind suppression sweep.
“The wind is funneling through the gully,” Elena said, her voice devoid of strain. Her right index finger rested lightly against the curved metal of the trigger, applying micro-ounces of pressure. “If I aim directly at the silhouette, the cross-breeze will push the round wide left into the rocks. I have to lead the target by six inches.”
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“Then do it,” Vance ordered, his eyes darting between the ridge and her steady hands.
Elena didn’t reply. She closed her eyes for a single heartbeat, visualizing the invisible currents of air dancing across the open valley, calculating the drop, the humidity, and the barrel temperature of the weapon. When she opened her eyes, the world outside the crosshairs ceased to exist. Her finger tightened smoothly, the slack disappearing in an instant. The rifle roared, a deafening explosion of expanding gases that tore through the damp air of the firing range.
