by S L Shelton
They walked to the edge of the course and watched a man in scrubs placing targets in frames hundreds of meters away.
Kathrin squinted down range, holding her hand above the knockoff, Ferragamo sunglasses. “I can’t even see the target,” she said without turning.
A small breeze lifted the golden curls from her shoulder and she closed her eyes, a peaceful expression softening her pale features. It was a rare huff of respite from the unseasonably blistering heat.
When the air had stilled, she turned to Tris. “You don’t seriously expect me to hit that, do you?”
Tris smiled and nodded.
The man in scrubs walked toward them across the field. “Three targets,” he yelled as he approached. “Lane three, four, and five.”
Kathrin took a deep, rattling breath then released it in a long, slow, noisy sigh. “Three?” she muttered.
“We can start with one.”
As Tris opened the rifle bag and handed Kathrin the Accuracy International sniper rifle, she could tell Kathrin was sinking fast—not as fast as she had, of course. Tris had taken both the LOT injection and the Lance injection at the same time. The effects for her were more violent. Still, Kathrin’s body would soon start to reject bits of her own DNA. It would be painful.
Tris watched her move slowly to the firing line. Kathrin stood there staring across the barren field for several seconds then lowered herself to the ground using the butt of her rifle as a makeshift crutch. Once on her belly, she propped the long barrel of her Accuracy International on a sandbag.
“Are we good?” Tris asked the tech as he passed her.
He nodded and climbed the twelve-foot platform at the center of the firing line.
Kathrin pulled the L115A3 .338 Lapua Magnum to her, letting it kiss her cheek as she tucked the stock into her shoulder. Even with the adjustable cheek piece, she needed her strap-on rest to align her head with the scope.
She’s so petite, Tris thought, though she was within an inch of Kathrin’s height herself.
She could almost feel the heat of the rifle stock touching her face as Kathrin snugged it tighter. Her enhanced empathy proved correct when she noticed Kathrin pulling away slightly, waiting for her skin to equalize the temperature.
“Do you need a towel?” Tris asked.
Kathrin shook her head without looking back and chopped at the center of the sandbag with the knife edge of her hand, creating a narrow trough for the barrel to rest in. Once satisfied, she swiveled the barrel to the crease in the sandbag, the muscles in her arms rippling from the effort as if the weapon had grown heavier since the last time she had used it.
She was certain Kathrin wouldn’t remember the last time they were here, broken as her memory had been. But Tris remembered. It had been early in her recovery, after Braun had begun to install her trigger phrases. It had been nothing more than a simple test of Kathrin’s level of obedience. But Tris felt the slightest tug of regret at Kathrin’s lost memory of the shared experience. What’s this? Is it real emotion or is it just the Jagger in me?
“You have five minutes to fire five times,” the scrub-clad tech said over the speaker.
“That’s not bad,” Kathrin whispered to her rifle. “We can do that.”
“And all the shots have to be in the circle.”
She rolled her eyes and whispered, “What circle?” She shook her head and clicked the five round magazine into place, having to tap it twice to seat it properly.
Tris frowned when even that simple action led her to shake her hand in discomfort. You can do it, Kat, she thought.
Through the glass of her optics, Kathrin focused on the dot of her target down range. “Shit.”
“What was that?” Tris asked, grinning slightly.
“I said SHIT!”
She chuckled before nodding at the tech.
He flipped the switch on the timer, sending the countdown clock into motion. “Range is hot! Timer is on!”
“I wasn’t ready!” Kathrin said, turning her head slightly so she wasn’t speaking into her shoulder.
Tris chuckled again, this time for Kathrin’s benefit, breaking the tension.
“It’s not funny,” Kathrin muttered as she nestled her chin back in place.
She lifted the bolt, pulled it back, then charged it forward to chamber her first round.
Tris could almost see through Kathrin’s eyes, so dense was the connection between them. Her own training kicked in and she visualized the world becoming a frame, her eyes focused on the tiny white dot far, far down range. In an instant, it felt as if she were only a few feet away from it.
She heard Kathrin take her breath, then let it out slowly, pressing the trigger near the bottom of her exhale. The bullet exploded from the barrel and rocketed across the barren expanse before punching a neat, pencil-sized hole in the paper down range.
“One,” she said, then looked at the clock–twenty seconds had expired. “Piece of cake.”
Kathrin pulled the bolt back again, sending the empty brass cartridge flying away in her peripheral vision with a satisfying ring, then shoved another round into the chamber.
Tris waited, wondering when anxiety would set in. Kathrin was a Jagger now. She had been ordered to fire five shots in five minutes. In her fevered state, doubt would begin to creep in at any moment.
Tris closed her eyes and listened to Kathrin’s breathing—slow, even, steady, despite the mild rattle in her chest. She tried again to mentally place herself behind the rifle, feeling what Kathrin felt. In her mind’s eye, the world seemed to narrow to a micro tunnel, culminating on the paper target so many hundreds of yards away. As her breath reached the bottom again, she began to press the trigger—but the shot didn’t come.
She opened her eyes and watched Kathrin wince to her left, barely perceptibly, bending at the ribcage. Kathrin’s finger moved from the trigger to the guard. She waited, knowing Kathrin was counting heartbeats and breathing into her pain. Tris watched the pulse in her neck and counted with her.
“Are you alright?” the tech asked, leaning over the platform rail and breaking both their concentration.
Tris shot him an angry glare, then knelt next to Kathrin, lying down behind the spotter scope. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know how it feels, only what the target looks like when you’re done.”
Kathrin smiled and breathed out in a long stream of air. “Hi, Trissy,” she whispered.
“You’re good, sweetie. Go ahead…send it.”
Kathrin relaxed on her shooting mat and twisted to the side as if in defiance of the twinge of pain she felt. She breathed in then let it out slowly. Once again, near the bottom of her breath, she pressed the trigger, sending the .338 magnum round screaming down range.
Smack!
Tris could almost feel the pop of the round through the paper. “On target,” she said, peering through the spotter scope.
Kathrin smiled and ejected the spent cartridge, slamming a fresh one in. But as she dropped the bolt in place, locking the round in, her fingers twitched. She shook her hand out, trying to get the feeling back in her fingers. After nearly a minute, she grabbed the Velcro of her shooting glove in her teeth and pulled it off. “My fingers…can you massage them for me?”
Tris laughed but reached over and kneaded them in her hand, gently rubbing and caressing Kathrin’s strong fingers. “Do you need a back rub too? Want me to get your feet?”
“Shut up,” Kathrin said, a broad grin stretching her cheeks. “That’s good.”
“Two minutes!” The tech called from above them.
“What?!” She yelled over her shoulder as her eyes flashed to the clock, then muttered. “Shit.”
“It’s okay,” Tris said. “Take this shot, then you’ll have a little less than a minute each for the last two.”
Kathrin put her cheek to the stock, and Tris could feel her focus return, the world closing in a tiny round frame over her target. Her golden-haired sister put her finger on the trigger guard, and d
espite a minor tremor in her hand, moved it to the gentle curve of the trigger. Tris could almost feel the cool caress of the metal as Kathrin lay her finger on the trigger.
“Ready,” Kathrin said.
“Send it.”
At the bottom of her breath, she squeezed.
It felt off as soon as the kick from the recoil moved the barrel. “Whoa,” Tris said, staring down range. “You kissed the outer ring. Don’t forget to check your wind.”
“I know, I know,” Kathrin muttered, ejecting the third empty cartridge.
“One minute!” The tech yelled.
Kathrin’s eyes flashed to the clock.
“Don’t worry about the clock,” Tris said, feeling Kathrin tense next to her. “You’ve got this.”
Kathrin huffed a hot breath through her nose and shoved another round into the chamber. She wiped her eye with the back of her hand without moving her chin, then strained, tensing her shoulders.
Tris could feel Kathrin’s panic build. “Don’t force it… Let it come.”
Kathrin took another deep breath and let it out, slowly, listening to the hiss of air from her nostrils. It was a relaxation technique Tris had used before.
“Ready,” Kathrin said.
“Wind still. Send it.”
Near the bottom of her breath, Tris could feel the zone click in Kathrin’s respiration and heartbeat. She had felt it herself thousands of times, but feeling it happen in Kathrin was something she hadn’t experienced since…since before Gannon was taken from her.
It was as akin to love as her predator’s soul would allow—and she knew Kathrin felt it as well.
Kathrin pressed the trigger.
Smack! The round punched through.
“On target,” Tris said, letting slip a quiver of pleasure in her voice.
Kathrin smiled. The pulse in her neck quickened as she pulled the bolt back, ejecting the brass and then shoved her last round in.
“Twenty seconds!” The tech yelled.
“I wish he’d shut up,” Kathrin muttered, severing the quick synchronicity between her and Tris.
Tris rolled to her right and bumped Kathrin’s shoulder, whispering in her ear. “You’ve got this, baby.”
“Ready,” Kathrin said as her breath fell back into rhythm.
Tris smiled. “Send it.”
Kathrin’s lips pursed, and she kissed the hard plastic cheek rest as if it were a lover.
Excitement flooded Tris. It burned like the pure animal eroticism she often felt when fighting or killing. But this time, it felt—different.
“Ten—nine—eight—” the tech called.
Shut up! Tris thought but refused to sever her connection to Kathrin with an outburst.
“Five—four—three—two—”
Kathrin pressed the trigger and launched her round hissing down range. Tris felt as if she were riding on its back, willing it into the zone. Like an angry, vibrating hornet, it buzzed until THWACK! It ripped through the paper target.
Tris moaned as if electricity had just passed through her groin. “On target,” she said, but the husky, erotic timbre to her voice might have just as easily uttered “I’m cumming!”
“The range is cold!” The tech yelled as Kathrin ejected the empty cartridge and rolled to her side.
She lay exhausted—Tris could see it on her face.
As the tech climbed off the platform, Tris shouldered the rifle and offered a hand up to Kathrin.
“There was one shot in the margin,” the tech said, handing a printout to Tris as Kathrin stood. “But everything was within the normal range… you get a pass.”
“Normal?!” Kathrin moaned as she brushed her pants off. “I’d say that’s phenomenal!”
The tech smiled thinly and nodded. “Yes. You did very well.”
Kathrin rolled her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm. “I thought it was pretty damned fantastic,” she muttered.
The tech turned to Tris. “Next time, it might help if–”
“I’m right here,” Kathrin said, standing unsteadily. “Tell me.”
The tech’s lips pressed tightly into a forced smile. “You simply might not remember the conversation,” he said. “It wasn’t meant as disrespect.”
Kathrin shrugged. “What might help?”
“More hydration. Before and after the treatment. Keep the fluids flowing in and out.”
Tris sneered at him. He was as aware of Kathrin’s condition as she was. The charade wasn’t necessary. She turned her back on him and picked up the spotter scope. “We’ve got it from here.”
He reached out with the printed results again. “You’ll need to log—”
Tris spun and glared at him, on the verge of violence. “We’ve got it from here. Fuck off.”
He took two steps backward as if afraid to now turn his back on her. The shiver of anger turned to arousal as the scent of his fear wafted out of his collar. She noted a similar response in Kathrin, though more muted.
When the tech finally turned and left, Tris gathered the remaining supplies and shouldered them while Kathrin tried to maintain her balance.
“Can we go back now?” Kathrin asked.
Tris zipped the rifle case closed and slung it over her shoulder as well. Kathrin giggled.
“What?” Tris asked.
“You look like a Sherpa.”
Tris grinned. “Bad news… you’ll have to walk back to the Jeep on your own. I have no shoulder left to spare.”
“I think I can manage.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Back to the clinic?” Kathrin asked hopefully.
“Not yet. I want some mat time with you.”
Kathrin dropped her shoulders and head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
When they got to the jeep she climbed tiredly into the passenger seat and stuck her feet through the window, her ankles nested in the arm of the side mirror. Her eyes closed as Tris loaded the equipment in the back. A gentle smile formed on Kathrin’s face, and a contented sigh escaped. Tris stopped loading and watched her for a moment.
As if Kathrin could sense it, she craned her neck backward to look at Tris. She smiled. “What?”
Tris shook her head. “I like that you found a moment… I was just enjoying it with you.”
A troubled expression rippled over Kathrin’s face—just for the briefest flash.
“What’s wrong?” Tris asked, closing the Jeep’s back gate and coming around to Kathrin.
She put her hand on Kathrin’s bare ankle and braced against the electric sensation it caused.
Kathrin shook her head. “I’m not sure. I just have this nagging feeling that I’m supposed to be doing something…that I promised something I can’t remember.”
“Like what?” Tris rubbed her foot, trying to remake the connection they had shared earlier.
Kathrin peered into the woods as if trying to focus on something impossibly far away. After a moment, she shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t remember much of anything. So, who knows… maybe I’m married and don’t remember it.”
Tris laughed convincingly, though it only barely covered her distress at hearing that. “I think that if either of us were married, someone would have come looking for us,” she said, trying to derail these thoughts before Kathrin’s memory of Scott Wolfe came in conflict with the betrayal she had been brainwashed to believe. “We were left to die. That says all we need to know.”
Kathrin stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded, breaking eye contact. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right. But I’ll promise you this. You and I,” she pointed at Kathrin, then to herself. “We will always have each other… Sisters.”
Kathrin closed her eyes and smiled. “Sisters,” she muttered. “Always.”
five
Thursday, April 28th
1:25 p.m.—Falling Water, West Virginia
WOLF watched as the last vehicle rolled out of the barn. It took less than
two hours to distribute the weapons and ammo to the outgoing teams. Everyone knew where they were going except Wolf’s team members. He had a little errand to run before making final departure plans.
The cool April morning had started to give way to the sun’s heat and Wolf shed his jacket, sinking to the floor of the panel van that had contained the weapons for the outgoing teams.
He watched Seifert and Mac lift John and his wheelchair inside. “Thirty-six hours, max,” Wolf said to John. “If I’m not back by sunset tomorrow, an encrypted package with safe house info and account access will appear on the mail server I showed you.”
“I’ve got it,” John said as they backed the chair against the wall and strapped it to the floor. “I’d still like to know what you’re doing.”
“It’s better you don’t.”
John shook his head. “You trust me alone with these guys? I might bug out.”
Wolf grinned. “You only have a week’s worth of cash until that package times out,” he said, climbing down out of the back. “What are you going to do? Hire the SEALs out as day labor for operational funds?”
John chuckled, allowing Seifert and Mac to breathe a little easier. Wolf knew the SEALs felt trapped between loyalty to John and the operational necessity of having Wolf in charge. He also knew they would rather not be babysitting John, reminding them each hour that John can’t help them get home.
“You’re in charge,” John said with a bitter grin. “But if you don’t come back, I’m taking the guys to Java and retiring on the beach.”
Wolf nodded. “That sounds like an awesome plan.”
Seifert stepped down out of the van and led Scott to the side by the arm. “Just on the outside chance you don’t make it to the rendezvous, is there an alternate source for weapons and—”
When they were out of earshot, Seifert stopped abruptly and lowered his voice, leaning in close to Wolf. “Don’t you go ditching us,” he said with a nervous smile. “I’d like very much to go back home someday.”
“Even if something happens to me you’ll be able to link back up with the other teams.” He leaned closer and put his hand on Seifert’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
