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From her vantage point on the ground, Tess spotted the hunters, dressed in camouflage, approaching Alexi from behind a group of trees with their rifles cocked.
The gunman stood alone in the clearing and spun.
“I said, stand down and drop your gun,” the Canadian man with the booming voice repeated.
“Stop, or I shoot you.” Alexi’s Russian accent rang through the air as he raised his gun.
Tess leaned on her elbows, the gun still in her hand, and tracked Alexi’s movements in the clearing. Through a tiny opening in the bushes, she evaluated the best angle to target him.
“What next?” Mark asked.
“Keep your head down. I’ve got a clear shot.” She closed a hand around the gun’s familiar metallic curves, and her training, while rusty, took over. Ignoring her racing pulse, she shut out everything but Alexi’s movements.
A couple of seconds later, Alexi stopped wandering. He lifted his rifle and pointed it toward the hunters.
Forced to make a split-second decision, she didn’t hesitate. I will not let these hunters die. Hands steady, Tess aimed straight at Alexi’s rifle, which projected from his right hand. With laser-like focus, she centered the target in range, held her breath, and fired.
The peace of the primordial woods cracked open, and a shower of gunfire blasted across the trees. The next few seconds rushed past in a blur. Tess hit the target, and the bullet exploded Alexi’s gun out of his hands.
Barely a second later, the hunters returned fire.
The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, and clouds of dirt obscured any visibility. The scuffle of running feet pounded the earth. She and Mark kept flat on the ground in the bushes, hidden from the crossfire. The pulsing pain in her wounded leg took her breath away, and she gritted her teeth to avoid moaning.
“Is he down?” Mark cradled his torso and muffled a wheezing cough.
“Think so, not sure.” Tess spied through the thicket to see if Alexi was alone and prayed Yuri and Dmitry weren’t lurking nearby.
Below the ridge of foliage, Tess’s position afforded her the best view of the scene unfolding. When the dust settled, two figures in camouflage emerged and raced over to Alexi, who was covered in blood and remained motionless in a crumpled heap. One of their shots had hit him, and fragments of a broken rifle peppered the ground around the sniper.
“Jesus, bro.” Gagging, the younger hunter covered his mouth and recoiled.
“Shit. Think the guy's alive, Derek?” The older hunter, built like a retired football player, stood staring at the fallen sniper. He pulled a mobile phone out of his hunting vest pocket.
“You shot him square in the chest, Bob. Nobody could survive that.” Derek, a younger version of the first hunter, shook his head.
Tess continued to eavesdrop while Mark helped her rise from their hideout in the bushes. Clinging to the tree branch for balance, she managed a couple of leaden steps at a time to follow him toward the hunters.
Bob entered three digits on his phone screen and stood, tapping his foot. After a few seconds, he kicked the field with his muddy boot and replaced his phone in his pocket. “Dang it. No reception. What the hell was he shooting at us for?”
“Sniper in a provincial hunting reserve? You got me.” Derek leaned over the corpse and ran his hands along the man’s sides. He pulled out two switchblades, a baton, and a handgun holstered in an ankle strap. He let out a long whistle. “This guy was armed up the wazoo, but not for hunting. Whadaya make of him?”
“He’s an assassin.” Mark scuttled over to Bob and Derek and pointed at Alexi’s corpse, which lay flat on the muddy ground, stained with blood.
“The bastard shot at us without cause. We had to defend ourselves.” Bob’s voice shook.
“Are you both unharmed? I’m a doctor,” Mark said.
“Yeah, but that guy’s not going anywhere.” Derek stood with his rifle pointed at the ground.
Mark approached Alexi, reached over, and placed two fingers against the sniper’s blood-spattered neck. “He’s dead.” Without further investigation, he stepped away from the crumpled body.
“Thank God.” About to collapse, Tess let out a huge sigh and sagged against the nearest tree to support herself. A sob caught in her throat, and an incredible sense of lightness settled over her, like a two-ton boulder had lifted away from her body.
Bob and Derek exchanged glances, and their nearly identical faces wore lopsided frowns of guilt mixed with relief.
“Weirdest thing. The guy's gun exploded right out of his hands, just when I thought he was gonna shoot us dead,” Bob said.
“Doctor, you’re one helluva great shot, shooting his gun out of his hands like that.” Derek turned to Mark to shake his hand.
