Free RIFT (The Rift Saga Book 1) by Andreas Christensen Page A

minutes, Julian stopped, raised his left fist, and took a knee, weapon raised and ready to fire.
    “Twelve o’clock.” Sue heard his voice, an amplified whisper. She took a knee and waited. After a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, Julian lowered his hand, palm down and out to his left. Although even the barest whisper would be heard inside the helmets, using hand signs for when they preferred quiet was something Tac Hordvik had emphasized time and again. You never knew what the enemy heard, or what equipment they might have gotten their hands on. Sue crept carefully forward, taking up position a few meters left of Julian. They were almost ready.
    They looked at each other, and Sue held up five fingers. Both made sure their spare magazines were within easy reach and pointed the right way. Everything to make time spent changing as short as possible. Four. Sue glanced through her scope and made a small adjustment for distance. The enemy was no more than sixty or seventy meters in front of them, dragging the heavy rocket launcher between them. One looked injured. Three. There seemed to be six or seven of them. With the element of surprise, Sue and Julian should be able to take them out swiftly. Sue was acutely aware that these would probably be hardened veterans, though. Two. She was green. So green. But training did count for something, and there was no better training than that of the Janissaries. One.
    They fired simultaneously, and two enemies fell at once. Sue moved the barrel slightly and fired again. One more down. She heard Julian fire two quick bursts, and followed up with one of her own. Missed. One of the savages managed to get a burst off in their direction, and she heard a scream both through her helmet and from the outside.
    “Shit shit shit!” Julian screamed as he dropped his weapon. Sue fired another burst, and the shooter fell to the ground. She looked at Julian, who had taken cover. He was clutching his hand, bleeding. The medics would fix that back in camp. Painful, obviously, but nothing serious. His weapon was done for, though. Now, she was on her own. She focused, leaving Julian with his injury. How many left?
    A stray bullet almost got her, but the defense bots deflected it. The suit was designed to deflect or stop bullets, but it didn’t always work, and some parts of the body were more difficult to cover than others. The helmet, though, had some of the best defensive capabilities, including nano bots that within a microsecond could merge into an almost invisible shield in the air, a centimeter or so outside the helmet itself, and deflect the incoming bullet. It would destroy the bots, but could save her life. It just had, and she gave a quick thanks to the now wrecked little invisible fellows that would have to be replaced once they got back. If they got back.
    She moved a meter to her left, in order to make for a less obvious target. In a split second, she saw movement, and she raised her weapon and fired a long burst almost even as she was still lifting the weapon. She heard a scream, and another voice shouted something. A female voice.
    Sue edged forward to have a closer look. There, pinned down in a small depression, Sue could see one leg sticking out. Careless , she thought, taking aim. A single shot, and another scream. She got to her feet and ran toward the enemy, hunched low, aware that she might be wrong, there might be others.
    She stood above the woman, covering her with the rifle. The woman rolled over, wincing from the injury.
    “Me tuer, meurtrier!” the woman said. She couldn’t be older than Sue, but the wide eyes and scruffy hair did nothing to hide her contempt. Sue didn’t know what to do. Clearly, they couldn’t let her go. But they had strict rules that taking prisoners was to be avoided. But here she was, holding her weapon at a girl that could have been her sister or a friend back in Charlestown, and she couldn’t simply shoot her. She had no idea what those