The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

“FIFTY CAL!” I shouted over the din of the gunfire, cutting Violet off. Margot met my eyes, her own large with fear. I grabbed her, practically jerking her across my lap and then curling my torso over her body as the .50 caliber began to fire. The sound was akin to a cannon in my ears, a nonstop, relentless staccato, and red streaked across the sky, a sign of the tracer bullets they were using to help them better identify targets. I looked up in time to see one of the men hurrying toward me—Jeremy—go down, his body convulsing as the massive bullets tore through his body. I turned away from the bloody sight, cringing. At this time in our attack, we had no way of recovering the bodies.

“WE HAVE TO MOVE,” I shouted to Margot, practically pushing her forward along the edge of the barricade. Violet’s cousin scrambled on her hands and feet. I followed, angling right and around. Concrete exploded behind me as the machine gun continued its relentless attack. I pressed my thumb and forefinger together, activating my microphone.

“We’re pinned down,” I shouted over the roar of the guns. “Somebody take that gun out! Go around and to the sides!”

“I have a better idea!” replied Cruz.

I ducked down as shards of concrete rained down over my head, trying not to imagine the inevitable bullet finding its way through the barricade. “What is it?”

Cruz didn’t respond. It was Violet who replied, after a long moment, “Cruz ran into the field.”

“What?” I cast a look over my shoulder, and in the low light, I could see a figure loping across the field, heading back the way we came. “Damn coward.”

“Try genius,” replied Cruz in the headset, surprising me. I scrambled forward a few more feet to the metal barrier Margot was crouched under, noting the lack of bullet holes. A quick check revealed a vehicle parked a few feet in on the other side, but beyond it, I could see the truck with the mounted gun, and the woman standing in the back, manning the machine gun.

“What are you doing!?” I radioed him as I caught Margot’s eyes and pointed to the other side of the vehicle. She shakily got to her knees and peeked over, then ducked back down, her eyes wide.

“Helping!”

I grated my teeth together and released my fingers. It wasn’t worth arguing with him, but if we survived this, I was going to give him an earful about leaving us behind and going all cowboy. Leaning closer to Margot, I looked her in the eye. “Can you get her?” I asked.

A vein was ticking hard in Margot’s neck, her lips parted as she panted. She was afraid, but even so, she nodded. “I can do it. Just watch my back.”

I nodded, then, pulling my rifle up to my chest and sucking in a deep breath, gave her a look—one that said ‘GO.’ Margot swung up, using the barricade as a brace to steady her gun. I rose right behind her, firing on the surrounding guards while she lined up her shot.

A woman was racing from one barricade to another, but from my angle, I could see her. I aimed low, for her legs, and she pitched forward with a scream indistinguishable over the sounds of battle. Margot’s chin was pressed against the muzzle of her gun, and, just beyond her, toward the city, my eye caught a woman pressed against the corner of the building inside the second barricade. She was just drawing a bead on Margot when my bullet caught her in the left shoulder.

The gun jerked in Margot’s hands, and then she ducked back down, her eyes squeezed shut, an expression of revulsion curling her mouth downward. The .50 caliber fell quiet. “C’mon,” I said to her, the silence spurring me into motion, and I leapt over the barricade, surging forward toward the second ring. It would only be seconds before someone replaced the woman who had been manning that machine gun—so we had to get to that vehicle. I pressed my back against the car, using the tires to hide my feet, and then swung around its tailgate as the sound of automatic gunfire again blasted into the night.

Margot slipped up beside me, still panting, her eyes wild, and I realized that had been her first kill. If we made it out of this alive, I would make sure to get a moment alone with her to ensure she was all right, but for now… We were at war.

I shot at a woman as she began to climb into the back of the truck, and she went down. On the other side, I saw another woman fall. The six remaining guards fired back, and I spun around as two began firing at me, the bullets pinging as they hit the vehicle.

“Get down on the ground and shoot at their legs,” I said to Margot, and she shook her head, her face tight.

“I can’t,” she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hand and jerking down farther as more bullets impacted the car. I heard the thick edge of desperation in her voice. I was worried, but I couldn’t stop to help her now.

“Somebody get around them—Violet! Where is Mags’ team?”

“Her team was held up by gunfire from buildings,” Violet reported. “She’s almost there, maybe two minutes aw—”

“Hey, Viggo—you might want to get down, eh, friend?”

Cruz’s voice cut over Violet’s in the radio, and I turned in time to see the giant harvester slamming into the concrete barricades right behind us. The barricades peeled open as Cruz drove, going under or tipping over as he pushed the three-ton vehicle through. The engine whined as he surged forward, and I pulled Margot down just as the extended metal bars that jutted out of the side smashed into the car we were hiding behind. Glass shattered as the vehicle jerked forward, the tires refusing to spin. I covered my head as the glass rained down on me, watching as our precious cover was slowly jerked away from us.

“C’mon!” I shouted, grabbing Margot’s arm. I forced her up, moving to keep us behind the vehicle. As soon as she was on her own two legs, trying to keep up with the car as it was forced forward, I swung my rifle up and fired on any sign of movement. I heard Cruz curse over the line, and turned to see him leaping out of the cab of the truck, noting the bullet holes in the glass.

The harvester, however, continued to roll forward over another barricade, and the car that was being dragged along in front of us smashed against the barrier, the metal on the roof rending and tearing under the heavy arm of the harvester before finally ripping free.

Margot had pulled out her pistol again, the heavy sniper rifle bouncing on her back as she pressed against the second barricade, just past where the mangled remains of the car had settled. The harvester was rolling slowly to a stop, and I pressed the advantage. “PLUG THE HOLES,” I ordered my team over the radio as I vaulted over the next row of barricades. “They’re boxed in.”

The harvester came to a full stop as the arms impacted on the walls of the buildings on the side of the barricade, but the cab punched a hole through the remaining barricades—they went flying a few feet back. The firing was dying down now, but there was still a big gun and a few of the enemy just beyond, and they were quickly getting ready.

A flash of movement across from me drew my eye to Tim, and I watched as Violet’s brother used the barricade as a step, leaping up and spinning gracefully around, shooting a woman who was kneeling down on the other side. Margot was moving behind me again, and I altered my run so that she was partially hidden behind me, fearing a stray bullet.