Free A New Day in America by Theo Black Gangi Page A

he lays the crosshairs on the cop at the highest tower point. He makes a mental note to keep his heart rate down and his muscle memory takes over—stock firmly into the shoulder, cheek positioned behind the scope, eye focused on the center of the crosshairs rather than the cop.
    He pulls.
    He feels the gratifying recoil of the rifle. A thunderclap breaks the sky and the cop’s head is red.
    Scan. Pull. The cop in the next tower has time to be startled before a round punches through his chest. Scan. Bolt. Nos lays the crosshairs on the narrow-barred window of the last tower and pulls. The cop convulses and buckles, falling backward.
    Cops from around the castle perimeter flush back to the castle. A sniper is the last thing on their minds. Nos bolts and guns down three of them before they make it to the tents.
    He scans. It’s quiet. The others stay out of sight.
    Close quarters now
.
    Nos straps Nay to his back, as she is in tears from the noise of the blast. He shakes off the thought. Now, make sure she’s safely secured to him, make sure he watches his back and no one ever gets behind him.
    He hops on his bike and burns around the rim of the pond and toward the castle. He slings the rifle back over his shoulder and draws his Sig Sauer nine.
    Violence erupts in the tent. Shots fire. The hound dog has a revolver drawn, and he turns to the zoo-break ruckus behind him. Nos waits, walking forward, sight on the back of his head. When the hound dog turns, his face brightens and Nos puts him down.
    Two junkies run past Nos from the tents, their arms full of vials and packets of powder. A cop staggers after them, bleeding badly down his face from empty eye-sockets.
    Inside the pigeon coop, three junkies are shot dead and wounded on the floor, and one cop is shot dead, and another is on the ground surrounded by junkies stomping and kicking. Junkie bodies are piled in front of the lab. Romo is red-faced and busily fighting off the swarm as they attack and scavenge needles and vials. The doctor climbs out of the back window with a large suitcase and is gone. Romo screams after him.
    “
Doc! You motherfucker!”
    Fuck
.
    Nos
needs
the doc.
    A junkie grabs Nos by his arm and another reaches for Nay on his back, and she screams. Junkies are everywhere. Nos cracks him with an elbows and turns to fire. The junkie on his arm bites down on his wrist and breaks the skin. His gun falls and rattles off the floor. His elbow catches a jaw, his foot breaks a set of ribs, and his heel caves in a chest.
    A force slams into Nos’ shoulder—
stupid
. Nos stumbles and catches himself. He turns and Romo is on him, swinging, clipping Nos behind his eye as he backs away—jab, jab, cross—Romo has his guard up and nothing gets through. His shirt is nearly torn off, and his chest is bloody. He’s smiling. Naomi is twenty pounds heavier. Romo cracks him with a hook to the jaw, one in the gut, and then across the nose. Nos’ knees go weak. Naomi is now a thousand pounds heavier.
    “Damn, you’re slow!”
    He’s right. Slow. Ridiculous
. Romo’s bare knuckles cut his brow and the blood drips into his eye. Nos wobbles back, the doctor getting away.
Stupid
.
    Romo comes on strong, fists clenched in front of his face, waving them toward him.
    “Come on—Army—bullshit!”
    Nos pops him behind the ear and he sees the opening—Romo’s a brawler— easy to read. Nos sees the hook before Romo throws and slips, and the fist
wiffs
. Nos snaps a right, and he doesn’t even feel it land.
How you know you hit him right
.
    Romo’s eyes disappear as he staggers back—
guy’s got a chin, I’ll give him that
. Nos clinches the plum of the back of his head. He pulls down and drives his knee through Romo’s skull.
    Romo drops. He has a bloody crater where his nose used to be. Nos picks up his gun and slams a bullet in the back of his skull.
    The tent is eerily still. Naomi clings to his back. She breathes by his ears.
    “Still breathing?”
    “Still