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Micah is waiting for me when I come back out onto the porch. “Ready?”
“Yep. Lead on.” I'm choosing to ignore the fact that he's removed his shirt. These boys have another thing coming if they think they can distract me so easily.
“We’re not going to take it easy on you, baby girl,” he warns me.
He leads me to the side of the porch, where a rifle rests against the railing. I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
“There are three targets that you need to hit from here, remember you only have four bullets. After that, load the pistol on the chair behind you, and head around the side of the house to complete four other obstacles. You must complete the course in ten minutes, and your time starts now.” He sets a timer on his watch with no further warning.
I don't hesitate. Picking up the rifle, I check the safety mechanism and confirm that the rifle is loaded. Inhaling through my nose, I search the view for anything that might be considered a target, since he didn't tell me what I'm aiming for. Placing the stock of the rifle against my shoulder, I breathe out and aim at a small black flag roughly 100 yards away. I press the trigger, moving to the next flag without stopping to see if I hit the first target. My third target almost takes me by surprise as the tattered remnants of Micah's black shirt move rapidly through the air.
Flipping the safety back on and setting the rifle down, I grab the pistol and clip off the table, loading and checking the gun as I dash down the stairs and around the side of the house. Pressing my back against the wall, I peek around the corner, firing off two quick shots as another t-shirt raises off the ground.
Holding the gun steady in front of me, aiming as I walk, I hurry into the tree line. I hear Jackson before I see him, thankfully expecting one of them to jump out at me at some point, otherwise I could have shot him. Are they nuts?!
I'm momentarily taken off my guard thinking about how easily I could have accidentally killed him, which allows Jackson to grab me from behind. He holds a sheathed knife to my throat and chuckles, no doubt thinking he's won.
Holding my hands out in front of me, I drop the gun and feign surrender before grabbing Jackson's wrist and twisting. Pivoting, I throw my elbow back and into his stomach. As his hand loosens, I take control of the knife and swipe it across his neck to show how I would end the assailant.
Retrieving the gun, I run deeper into the woods. A flash of color catches my eye and I see a dirty yellow ribbon tied around a branch high in the trees.
Huffing out a little breath of air, I figure they expect me to fetch the ribbon rather than shoot it down, otherwise it would probably just be another t-shirt flag. Making sure the safety is secure, I tuck the gun into the front of my shorts and hold the knife in my teeth.
The trunk of the tree is too wide to climb, and the branches are too high to reach. Positive they did it on purpose to make it harder or even impossible, I scan the area. There's another tree a few yards away with lower branches, so I scale that tree as quickly as possible. Once I'm up high enough, I hesitate for a second. Even at the farthest I can get out on these branches, I'm still nowhere near close enough to reach the ribbon.
I'm annoyed, but I also realize the point they're trying to make. So I think of the obstacle in terms of what I would do if I had no other choices, and then launch myself off the smaller tree and across to the thicker branches of my target.
My chest takes the brunt of my collision with the branch, and I struggle for a moment to get purchase as the branch bounces under my weight. Finally, I hook my leg over the branch and pull myself up, grabbing my prize before jumping down out of the tree. I hit the ground in a crouched position, looking around for my next obstacle as I use the ribbon to secure the knife to my thigh. Holding the pistol in front of me again, this time a little gun-shy with my finger on the safety, I move towards a clearing where I think I heard movement.
As I move into the clearing, I see Micah waiting for me. He has another ribbon tied around one bicep.
Great.
My eyes narrow and I roll my shoulders, ready for a fight, but he takes off. For such a bulky guy, he can run pretty fast and he has a head start on me, but I know I'm faster. I chase him all the way back up to the house, pouncing on his back as I catch up to him.
He shakes me off too easily, and I drop the gun, keeping myself on my feet. He turns around to face me, his eyes mocking as he circles me. I know he's a good fighter. We've been sparring these past few days, and this is my chance to show him I've been paying attention. I know the goal is to retrieve the ribbon, but I also want to make a point and show that I can hold my own. Not only have I absorbed everything he's taught me, but I've also observed him as he spars with the other guys. He's sharp and fast, but I'm smaller and faster.
He lunges at me, but I'm able to sidestep out of his reach, ducking to swipe my leg under his. I almost manage to trip him, but he rights himself. I take advantage of his small falter to launch myself onto his back, this time locking my arms around his neck. I don't actually want to hurt him, but I know I have to prove that I can, so I hold on for dear life, hoping he'll tap out like he showed me.
He doesn't tap out though, instead falling to his knees and flipping me over his shoulders. I hear him gasping for breath as my back hits the ground. I try to scramble away but he reaches for me, pulling my leg and dragging me towards him, making my face smash against the compact ground. My eyes are welling up with tears from the impact, but my free leg swings around and catches him in the throat, forcing him back. I pull the knife from my makeshift holster as I tackle him to the ground, holding it to his throat as I simultaneously pick the gun up from the ground and aim it at Jackson's head just as he runs up to take me by surprise.
We all freeze that way—me straddling Micah's chest with my knees pressing his arms down and a sheathed knife to his neck as he continues to cough from my kick to the throat, my left arm holding the gun out in front of me, less than a foot from Jackson's forehead. All of us are breathing heavily, covered in sweat, dirt, and smears of blood.
Jackson
Right now, I am both terrified and turned on. Our girl moved through the woods, hitting targets and defending herself like a soldier. I watched her take a flying leap through the forest canopy to reach a ribbon that should have been nearly impossible to see, much less reach. I saw how hard she hit that branch, and then kept moving as if nothing happened, and then she jumped out of the tree and landed like the damn Terminator.
I have the weirdest boner right now.
Six reaches down and pulls the ribbon off Micah's bicep just before his watch beeps. Then she tosses the gun and the knife down and stands.
“I'm going,” she says firmly, leaving no room for argument.
My brain isn't processing well enough to argue anyway.
She walks away, leaving Micah laying on the ground, blinking up at the sky with a look of shock and confusion on his face.
I watch her walk away at first, but my arousal overcomes the shock and I run after her. Either she's still in killer cyborg mode, or she thinks I haven't given up yet, because when I catch up to her, she rears around and swings. She lands an impressive right hook right to my face before she realizes I'm not trying to defend myself.
