No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway

Tank on top of him.
 “Gloria, run!” Emma took off, hoping her friend and coworker followed, despite the risk to Tank. If they stayed exposed out in the middle of the clearing, no amount of bravery would save them.
With every slap offset on earth, dust billowed around Emma’s feet. Adrenaline dimmed her vision. Blood whooshed in her ears. I need the cover of the trees…
She panted, unable to suck enough oxygen into her lungs, as she half-fell behind the woodpile skirting the clearing’s edge. Tank’s snarls echoed across the empty space as she struggled to breathe. With shaky fingers, Emma counted the remaining rounds. Four unused. Not nearly enough with her aim.
Emma cursed. John had been right about everything. Safety in the woods was only an illusion. As long as the government or CropForward or whoever contracted with John’s boss to take them out still functioned, they were targets.
A scream carried across the forest and Emma half-rose from her hiding spot. It wasn’t the high-pitched wail of a teenager caught off guard, but of a seasoned woman in a fight for her life. Gloria.
Emma hurried through the trees, ignoring the sting as branches slapped her arms and scraped her cheek. It didn’t matter how low she crouched or how quickly she moved. She was vulnerable and exposed. They were going to die out in these woods with Raymond and John miles away, oblivious to all of it.
Another scream, and Emma veered left, away from the cabin and deeper into the trees. Where was she? Emma cast her eyes about, squinting to peer past the dense foliage for any sign of movement. There! A flash of something in the distance. She eased closer, gun gripped tight in her right hand.
Another movement, a muffled groan. Gloria’s red boot swung up into the air and Emma rushed forward. Her friend sprawled across the dirt with the man from the road on top of her, fighting over the shotgun. Gloria gripped it in both hands, cheek bloodied and bruised as she grimaced with effort.
Now or never. Emma’s hand shook as she lifted the gun into position and wrapped her non-shooting hand around her fingers for support. She aimed, took a shallow breath, and fired.
The man spasmed, grasping his side as he fell to the ground. Not the bullet through the heart she’d intended, but hopefully enough. Gloria scrabbled back, digging her boots into the dirt as she freed herself from the weight of her attacker. Emma stepped forward, gun aimed at the man’s back as he heaved, one hand holding his side, the other supporting his weight on the ground.
A dog yelped in the distance and Emma spun on instinct. Halfway around, a sharp pain slicked hot and quick into her arm. She jerked. Her grip on the revolver slackened.
Blood welled on her blouse and dripped down her arm. She staggered as the man from the drive came into view. If he was there, then Tank…
With a surge of effort, Emma hoisted the revolver into the air, gritting her teeth against the pain. She fired without aiming and the bullet veered low, almost into the dirt. The man stumbled as he reached for his foot. Twigs cracked as he landed on his knees in the underbrush.
Emma glanced behind her to check on Gloria, only to almost take a bullet to the brain. The round flew past her, cutting through her hair and missing her forehead by an inch. She spun back around and a wave of dizziness washed over her. The man she’d shot in the foot pointed a handgun straight at her. Emma pulled the trigger once. Twice. Three times. Squeezing again and again despite the empty casings.
He gripped his chest, recognition dawning in his eyes as blood welled over his fingers. He sagged onto the ground. Emma kept the useless gun trained at his face as his eyes rolled back and he slumped over.
A hand landed on her shoulder and she jerked.
“It’s over, hon. You can stop now.” Gloria’s voice filtered through the horror and the fear, but Emma failed to process. “Let me take that.” Gloria reached for the revolver and eased it out of Emma’s hand.
“Is the other one—”
“Dead?” Gloria half-smiled. “Thankfully, no.”
Emma twisted away in alarm. “But—”
Gloria silenced her with a hand. “We need him alive, Em.” She took hold of Emma’s good arm and led her back toward the other man. He lay unconscious, spread eagle on the ground, a bruise swelling across his temple and blood coating his shirt.
With a boot, Gloria nudged him and he groaned. “With any luck, he’ll tell us everything we need to know.”

Chapter Six


Gloria
Gloria wasted no time, ignoring Emma’s confused expression as she hurried to divest the dead man of his lightweight jacket. “You need something around that arm to stop the bleeding.” She tugged the jacket off one arm at a time, grunting against the dead weight.
Literal. Dead. Weight. Hysteria loomed on the edge of her sanity, a laugh percolating up her throat. “At least I know that saying is accurate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nevermind.” Gloria waved Emma over as she channeled her borderline panic into something useful. “Get over here with that arm.”
Emma stumbled over, blood dripping down the shredded white rayon and into the dirt. After folding the jacket into a long, thick strip, Gloria wrapped it like a tourniquet around Emma’s arm. Twisting again and again, she kept the pressure tight on the wound before tying the sleeves into a knot.
Emma winced and Gloria nodded in satisfaction. “That should slow down the worst of it, but we need to treat you as soon as possible. I hope Raymond comes back soon.”
“I think I might pass out.” Emma wobbled on her feet, but Gloria reached out a steadying hand.
“You’re pretty pale, but try to keep it together. I need your help.”
Emma nodded without conviction. “I can manage.”
Unlike many people, challenges brought out the best in Gloria. At eight years old, when her older brother challenged her to beat