Free Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star by Joe Nobody

antibiotics from someone’s glove box had saved his life. He wouldn’t get a second chance.
    Another driver offered, “Maybe they’ve got something to eat besides buzzard meat. Maybe they’ve got enough fuel for us to get out of here.”
    “We’ll see,” Cole responded, skeptical good fortune was going to befall them after so many months of hardship.

    Terri happened a glance out the windshield, somewhat distant movement catching her eye. She could see them coming. Despite the downward angle of the headlights, enough illumination still made it to the road beyond for her to detect shadowy figures moving along the pavement. Bishop’s words finally made it through her fog of confusion.
    “Bishop… Bishop… men are coming,” she whispered, as if a louder voice would warn him somehow. He didn’t respond.
    How she managed to unhook the seat belt she wouldn’t remember. Ignoring Hunter’s pleas was even more difficult. “Keep them away from the truck,” she repeated in a rushed whisper, “keep them away from the truck.”
    She found the AR and then the door handle. Had Bishop switched off the dome lights? Would they see her? She chanced a glance again. They were still coming, getting closer.
    Patting around in the dark for her spare magazines, she watched their gait grow wary as the distance narrowed. She found a magazine and then the door handle. She blew Hunter a kiss and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”
    Terri stepped onto the running board, thankful the dome light hadn’t come on. Without taking her eyes off the approaching men, she tried to quietly step down… and tumbled… hard.
    The combination of the truck’s height and her injured leg caused her to hit the pavement with a vengeance. If the fall hadn’t knocked the air from her lungs, she would have surely shrieked out in pain.
    Just then, there were legs and boots on Bishop’s side of the truck. She heard other footsteps coming from behind. She rolled under the vehicle, quietly sliding back behind the suspended rear wheels.
    “Is that a baby crying?” someone asked. “I hear a baby.”
    “Sure is,” replied another. “The driver ain’t moving. I think he’s dead or out cold.”
    “Be careful, he might be playing ‘possum.”
    Terri could see four pairs of legs, their image growing clearer as the sun approached the eastern horizon.
    One of them moved to the back of the pickup and tried the door to the camper shell. “Reach in there and get those keys. This gate is locked, and I want to see what’s in there.”
    She heard someone try the driver’s door handle, but it was locked. “Bust out the window,” someone said.
    Visions of flying glass filled Terri’s mind, the shower finding Hunter’s eyes. She could hear him crying, and the energy of a protective mother filled her core. With shaking hands and weak legs, she rolled from under the pickup and leveled her AR at the nearest man. “I wouldn’t touch that truck if I were you.” The audible click of the AR’s safety accented the warning.
    The woman’s appearance started Cole. He cursed himself for not having someone check that side of the truck. “Now hold on a second, lady. We don’t mean you no harm.”
    “Then move away from the truck,” she ordered, adjusting her position so she could cover all four of them.
    “Okay… okay now… just settle down,” one of the cooks replied.
    Terri could see it in his eyes before he raised the pistol. She didn’t know how or why, but her instincts moved the AR toward his chest just as his arms leveled the handgun. She pulled the trigger. And again. And again.
    At point blank range, the 5.56 NATO rounds were traveling over 3400 feet per second. Small in diameter and traveling at such velocity, the first two bullets tore through the man’s body as if it were carbon paper. The third hit a rib.
    The bullet’s tail weighed more than the pointed tip, which was slowed considerably by impacting the bone. The laws of momentum demanded