But if they did, then Max was willing to live with that.
He knew he was up against impossible odds. If he came out of this alive, he’d be surprised.
Three men, even if they were facing the wrong direction, were too much for him to tackle on his own. Especially when all he had was his Glock with four bullets, a knife, and his own cunning. He had a busted leg, and his ribs and head hurt. The enemy was heavily armed. All they had to do was spin around and pump Max full of bullets.
But Max had to try.
His body was rebelling against the thought of death. No matter how determined someone was, or how brave, there was a desperate drive inside them, telling them that they had to live, that they had to do whatever it took to stay alive.
There were few things in the world that could override that instinct.
And one of them was saving others.
Max wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing it was Mandy, Georgia, her kids, his brother, and Cynthia. He was doing it for them.
He didn’t have a fatalistic attitude. That simply wouldn’t have helped him. If he was completely convinced that he was doing to die, then he probably would.
Instead, the thing to do, he knew, was to trick himself. He had to convince himself it would come off fine. The plan would go off without a hitch.
If James and Mandy had a break from the constant gunfire that was keeping them pinned in place, they might just be able to get off some clean shots of their own.
The only way to know was to find out. There wasn’t any way to communicate with them. The radios back at camp weren’t portable. They weren’t made for this kind of situation.
Max slunk forward, walking as slowly and silently as he could. One noise and he’d be out of time. He needed to shoot first. That was the only way this could work.
The gunfire still punctuated the night. Mandy and James weren’t firing. Max hoped, once again, that they were still alive. Even if they weren’t, Max still had to do this. He still had to think of Georgia, John, and the others.
A thick tree was close by, off to Max’s right. He was ready to dive behind it. But there might not be time.
It was now or never. Max was close. One of the enemy was fishing for a spare clip.
Max took careful aim, right at the back one of their heads.
Max squeezed the trigger. The Glock recoiled. It was a good feeling. Harsh, but comforting.
The man fell. The shot had been perfect, his body crumpling into the snow. But that was the last of Max’s worries.
The two others spun around. Everything seemed, once again, to be happening in slow motion. Max had to make a split second decision. Did he train his Glock on the second man? Or did he dash behind the tree?
He opted for the second.
He threw himself behind the tree.
Just in time.
Gunfire erupted. Loud bursts. Bullets cut into the bark behind him, and the snow by his feet.
Come on, thought Max. This is your time, James and Mandy.
Max had done this for them.
But there was no crack of the hunting rifles.
Max feared the worst.
A surge of energy suddenly filled him. Emotions flooded his body. Thoughts of revenge swelled through him.
His normal calm-under-pressure pattern had failed him.
These men had killed James and Mandy.
Max threw himself out from behind the tree.
He saw the two men facing him. He squeezed the trigger of his Glock. Three times. In rapid succession.
The first man fell. The bullets had struck him in the throat and the chest.
The other man still stood. Max had missed.
Max squeezed the trigger again.
Btu he was out of ammo.
Long ago, before the EMP, Max had read the Tueller Drill studies, first published in SWAT magazine in 1983. They described what happened when a man with a knife charged a man with a gun. Surprisingly, the man with the knife had a chance. If he could run fast enough, he could attack before the gun-wielding man could get off a shot.
Not a very good chance, though.
With Max’s leg the way it was, the odds were distinctly not in his favor.
To make it worse, there wasn’t time to get his knife out from his pocket and unfold it. No matter how fast he was at deploying it, it didn’t matter.
All this information had been engrained in Max’s mind for a long, long time.
He knew it wouldn’t work.
But he was so filled with rage he didn’t care.
Max charged forward. He still held the Glock in his hand. It was heavy enough to use as a weapon. It wasn’t a knife, but it was something.
The man in front of him already had his gun raised. An expression of surprise came over his face.
Max wasn’t going to make it.
He was sprinting right towards his certain death.
Before the enemy could get off a shot, a crack rang out.
A hunting rifle.
The man fell.
There was hope now. Mandy or James was alive. Or maybe both of them were. Was that too much to hope for?
Max bent down, taking the gun from the man. He wasn’t dead. His grip was still strong enough to try to resist.
Max yanked on the gun and got it free. He didn’t waste any time. The weight of the gun felt good in his hands. At point blank range, Max pulled the trigger, sending a single round through the man’s heart.
Max couldn’t believe it. He was alive. The enemies were dead.
Max had let rage and thoughts of revenge overtake him, and yet he hadn’t died, even though he should.
Max wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He desperately wanted to check on Mandy and James. If they needed help, he needed to be there for them.
But Max knew that he couldn’t count on the battle being over.
He couldn’t be careless. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take over again.
For the first time since this had all started, Max felt the cold. It was even colder now than when it had been snowing. The temperature must have been approaching the single digits. A gust of wind blew in, causing Max to shiver.
The dead men in front of him would provide a wealth of equipment. Not just guns, but parkas, hats, socks, and boots. Sure, the parkas might be stained with blood. That was fine with Max, though.
He’d have to wait.
The night was silent once again. Silent and cold.
Crouched there on the ground, the dead man’s gun in his hands, Max looked through the darkness.
The clouds had come along in full force, covering the moon. It was darker than before.
Max was determined to be cautious. After all, there could be more men out there.
But Max saw no one.
Nothing moved. There was no sound.
Everything was quiet.
Max heard his own boots crunching on the snow as he stood up. He’d come back to the bodies later.
He started moving across the silent, dark woods, heading towards Max and Mandy. He kept his eyes scanning the surroundings as he walked.
He was ready.
But it wasn’t enough.
Movement behind him. He heard it too late. Someone was rushing out from behind a tree.
Something hard hit Max in the head. His field of vision swam, and pain seared through his skull.
Btu he didn’t lose consciousness.
Holding the gun with both hands, Max jammed it backwards, hoping to hit his attacker with the butt of the gun.
Max missed.
Something hard hit Max in the back. He reeled in pain, about to fall forward, but he caught himself, putting his left leg out first.
Max barely held onto his balance. But he managed to spin around.
His attacker was a man about his age with a severe face. He wore the same clothing as the others. He lunged forward at Max, swinging his right fist in a wide arc.