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Easy as pie. I swallow any last vestiges of fear and burn them away. There's no time for
that.
Branded Kestrels pulls up on their bikes, not bothering to hide their approach. When I
glance out the windows, I see why. I count maybe eighty men before my stomach dips.
And there's probably a good two dozen or so more where I can't see 'em. At least, if these
fuckers are smart there should be. We're going to need Seventy-seven Brothers' help, but
only if we live long enough for them to get here.
Austin Sparks. It's the man from before, with the dark hair and eyes, the one with the
goatee and the bad motherfucking case of hubris. I guess he's their new Pres, maybe their
Sergeant at arms. Whatever. I don't give two flyin' fucks. He's the first one I'm going to
aim for. I raise my gun to the small hole in the plywood. I know it won't give us much
protection should these sons of bitches start using the M16s they're pulling out and
leveling on us, but at least it makes our position almost impossible to determine from the
outside. Last chance to surrender. If you do, we'll take what we want, you'll leave and
never come back. It's that or you die here today. The man pauses and a ripple of anger
pauses through his still form. You burned down a very important relic the other day and
now we've got some folks that would like to see you make an even trade. Give up the
clubhouse and come out, no weapons, no smart ass attitudes.
I take aim. I figured that there'd be at least a moment or two of jaw flapping before the
violence got started. I'm going to cut that down to thirty seconds. I look down the row, at
the other seven folks standing with me, seven folks who are all too aware that we could
very well die within the next few seconds.
I put my finger on the trigger, close my eyes and breathe.
When they snap back open, my gun goes off and so do the others alongside me. My shot
goes a little wide, missing the President but hitting another man square in the chest. He
drops to the pavement, taking his gun along with him. I see a few of the other bullets find
their marks, and then we all take another shot. We only have time for two before the
Branded Kestrels realize we're on the second floor and decide to pepper it with holes.
I don't bother to duck, but rather dive, rolling behind the row of furniture we put here
just for this purpose. It won't stop all the bullets, but at least we've got something
between them and us. I don't check to see if anyone's been hurt I can't do that until
after this is all over or I might not make it through. Instead I focus on crawling back
towards the hallway, lining crawling into the room closest to the stairs and taking aim
through yet another set of holes drilled in the wall here. Our poor house is going to need a
whole fuck ton of repairs after this crap is over.
Chapter 38
Amy
I hear the shots and bite my lip until it bleeds, praying to the gods of motorcycles that
Austin will make it out of this okay. I squeeze my hand over Christy's, looking back at her
with a gun in her small hand and her body shaking with fear. We had about ten minutes
to figure out how to use these guns, taking a crash course with Kimmi in the backyard. I
don't know how good of an aim I'll be, but at least I have it for close combat. As long as I
can protect my person and keep the majority of Branded Kestrels out of this room, I'll be
of assistance to the group.
Mireya keeps her gaze out the window, on the grass below, searching for anyone that
might try to sneak in from the back. Her shoulders are tense, but her eyes never stray
from that single purpose, not even when we hear the doors being kicked in and shouts
echoing through the house.
You fucking cowards! I hear the screech, but I ignore it, focused solely on the doorway
into this room. I have to be careful not to engage in any friendly fire, but also to stop any
enemies. There are seven of us in here. That's not a lot, but we've got a small group and a
big plan. I hear the swearing and cursing, slamming doors, a few stray shots, but there's
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