Page 43 of Freedom Fighters
Efraín staggered to a patch of weeds and vomited.
Garrett clapped his hands and pointed behind him. A sheet of paper was pinned to a tree, about fifteen yards away. “You will each take three shots. For each shot not inside the circle, you willrun a mile. When you return, you will get another three shots. First up!”
Carmen glared at Garrett, hating him all over again. This was beyond ridiculous.
Angelo was the first up. He got two in the circle. His last shot missed the tree altogether. He swore heavily.
Carmen was startled. Angelo was normally a good shot.
“One mile. Go,” Garrett told him.
Angelo rested his rifle up against therubble of the refectory wall, then jogged toward the marked trail.
Carmen was still breathing heavily when it was her turn to step up to the line. She pulled out her Glock and tried to take aim the way she had been taught. She gripped her wrist for greater steadiness, only her arms were lead weights. As she aimed the gun, they shook, making the sights waver.
“Hurry up!” Garrett yelled. “TheInsurrectos won’t stand there while you get your aim right!” He was standing over her again. She gritted her teeth andmadeher arms straighten up, just for the two seconds she needed to get three shots off.
All of them missed.
Sick, she looked at the virgin sheet of paper that Llora had pinned to the abused tree.
“Get moving!” Garrett said.
She holstered her gun and unbuckled the belt.
“Take it with you. You wouldn’t leave it behind for the Insurrectos, would you?”
Carmen glared at him. “Fuck you.” Even her voice was weak.
“Fourmiles!” he shot back.
For a moment, she wanted to trot over to the weeds and up-chuck just like Efraín, who was now sitting on the hard-packed earth, his head between his knees. Only, Garrett would rail at her even harder if she did.
She turned andheaded for the trail.
“Run, soldier!” Garrett directed.
She ran. The best she could do was a tired trot. Her legs felt like cast iron and her arms and shoulders ached.
The first mile was the worst. Close to the three-quarter mile mark, she stopped and leaned over the grass and foliage at the edge of the trail, wondering if she would vomit. The nausea passed and she jogged back to the camp.
Just into the second mile, her breathing settled down and the dead weight in her limbs disappeared. She picked up speed, feeling light and full of energy.
The third and fourth mile were effortless. She arrived back at the camp and jogged over to the lineup. Garrett was still bawling at everyone, sending them running as they failed to hit the mark. The thunderous look on their faces as they passedher, heading for the trail, told its own story. Garrett was not loved, right now.
Carmen pulled out her Glock as she approached the line. “I should shootyou,” she told Garrett.
“Get three of them in the circle and you can take a free shot.”
That told her how much he believed she could do it.
The free, floating feeling of lightness and energy was still with her. Even her breathing was calm.She stepped up to the line and raised the gun. She barely paused to aim. She didn’t care if she hit the paper or not.
All three bullets hit the target. One of them was awfully close to the line, yet it was inside it. Carmen lowered the gun, staring at the holes.
“Llora?” Garrett called.
Llora stepped over to the tree from her safe point and pulled the sheet off and examined it. She held uptwo fingers, then pinned another sheet to the tree.
