Secret Sniper

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

"The door," Michael whispers hurriedly.

"The warehouse door," I specify, swiftly sliding the picture of me and Adriana back in my snipe bag, swinging the bag over my shoulder, and sprint toward the entrance of the warehouse.

"She left," Michael says, grabbing his gear, running after me.

I don't respond to his last comment since it's pretty obvious. It would be a perfect time for Adriana's sarcasm.. *No Eric, you can't think about her now. This mission is on the line.* my conscience commands. I sprint faster to try and block my personal thoughts out. Courtney finally comes into view and I pick up my pace just a little more.

"Courtney!" I shout. She doesn't turn around or slow down. Instead, she makes a sharp right onto the street, dodging cars as she crosses it. I cross the street as well, dodging cars more swiftly than her with Michael on my tail. She makes another sharp turn into an alley way, hopping a fence then crawling into a tight wall crack. I reach the crack seconds later, but neither Micheal or me can fit through it and Courtney is out of sight. *If Adriana were here, she could fit..* my conscience suggests. I slap the back of my head to jerk the thoughts of my wife from my mind. I should be thinking about how to get Courtney. I don't even know why she ran.

"She's probably going to find Natalie.." I whisper, speaking my thoughts aloud.

"Natalie pulled a gun," Michael announces after a long pause, avoiding eye contact when I glance at him.

"What?" I ask, even though I heard him clearly.

"She pulled a gun. She was the one who shot at us in the warehouse. Afterward, she bolted," he explains. "Why are we shooting her anyway?"

He looks away from the floor, then at me. I stare at him, not answering his question immediately, because honestly, I have no idea why we're sniping her either.

"I don't know. The CIA never gave us a reason. Said it was too confidential," I reply after a few minutes. I run my hands down my face and moan loudly in frustration. I pause for a moment. "Why did she pull a gun?" I inquire.

"She spotted the CIA agents that were tailing her, and figured out where our surveillance hideout was. She shot, then ran off. I haven't heard from the agents since the shooting," Michael answers.

*Bzzzt. Bzzzt.*

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out. Michael stares at me as I unlock it.

"Pictures of Adriana. Again," I sigh. Michael comes up behind me and looks over my shoulder at the pictures. He holds out his hand, a silent gesture to give him the phone. I hand it over and as he scrolls through the pictures I've received from the FBI of Adriana, I walk toward the mouth of the alley. I look out onto the street an-

"AH!" I shout, just missing a bullet that whizzes just centimeters from my face. I immediately drop to the concrete, accidentally smacking my face onto the floor a bit too hard. I hear more gun shots and hear Michael cry out behind me. I get up quickly and pull out my gun. I force my eyes to scan the scene as fast as possible, finally spotting Natalie within seconds. My brain, not even registering what's going on, takes control of my arm and next thing I know I pull the trigger. I see Natalie fall to the ground and her gun drops out of her hand. Immediately after I see her drop to the ground, I turn around and bolt toward Michael. As I approach, I see a pool of blood forming around his shoulder area. I reach for him then hesitate when I notice he's still breathing. He turns his head slowly to look at me and I can hear he's gasping. His eyes speak terror, and instinctively I take off my top shirt and wrap it around his shoulder as tight as possible to stop the bleeding. He sighs, I'm assuming in relief, but only to be followed with a loud grunt in agony as I lift him to take him into a safe building. I try to position him comfortably on my shoulder, opposite of the shoulder my snipe bag and sniper is on, as I hold up my pistol in case an ally of Natalie tries to shoot me.

"Clear," I announce, even though I bet Michael isn't even listening. I cross the street and find an abandoned shoppe and hop through the broken window. I walk down a dark hallway, leading into a clothing storage closet. I lay Michael down and check his pulse. It's going down, I've got to do something. Fast.