KnockOut

let us use him, he won’t! I want him dead, Victor, now! You said you could do it if you wanted to. Well, it’s time to step up.” She traded guns with him. “Use mine. The silencer’s on it, so no one will hear the shots. Shoot both of them, Victor. Prove to me you can do it.”
    Victor held the gun straight out in front of him, aimed it at Savich His face was pale, his whole body rigid. He looked deathly afraid. Of killing them?
    “Come on, Victor, drill both of them, right between the eyes!”
    Savich heard Autumn scream No!, and Victor staggered and went flying to the rocky ground, twisting and turning as if someone were physically pummeling him. Just as suddenly he stopped, and he sat up, terrified, and looked at Savich. He yelled, “Run, Lissy,” and he took off into the trees.
    Autumn, you did this?
    “Hold it, Lissy!”
    Lissy’s eyes went wide with shock. Savich knew she thought Autumn was here now, but it wasn’t Autumn. It was Sherlock, her SIG pointed directly at Lissy’s back. Cully came running out from behind her and fired five fast rounds after Victor. They heard the cry of pain when one of the bullets struck him. Then Cully took off after Victor.
    Sherlock said, “Turn around, Lissy. Very slowly, I don’t want to kill you. Toss your gun to the ground right this minute.”
    Lissy looked over her shoulder, stared at the woman with the wild red hair. “Nice hair,” she said. And she ran, firing wildly in Sherlock’s direction.
    Sherlock stumbled back and fell, got back up on her knees, and returned fire. She got her, heard the cry of pain, but she didn’t know how badly the girl was hurt.
    More shots came toward them.
    “Stay down, Sherlock,” Savich yelled. He stumbled over to her, half fell to his knees, and pulled her up against him. “You’d better be okay, you hear me?”
    “Yeah, I’m good. Dillon, your leg!”
    “It’s not so bad. I can use it. Get Bernie free, then the two of you go after Victor. You’ll probably have to split up to find him. Sherlock, Lissy took my gun.”
    Without a word, Sherlock handed him hers. He willed his leg to move, and it did, awkwardly but well enough, and he took off at a trot after her. Sherlock whispered alter him, “You’d better be careful.”
    Savich soon saw Lissy weaving through the trees ahead of him Sherlock’s bullet was slowing her down. She jerked around, saw him, and fired. The bullet ripped past his head as he dove behind a tree, His leg screamed at him, and he waited a beat.
    He heard gunfire, prayed they’d finally brought Victor down. He saw a flash of Lissy’s white blouse and fired. She yelled. He turned and ran toward her, his left leg dragging now. He yelled, “Lissy! It’s over, stop now, you hear me?”
    He heard her laugh, her manic laugh, loaded with pain. He knew she was on the move again, despite having two bullets in her. Lissy yelled, “You’ll never catch me, you bastard. I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill every single cop you brought here with you!”
    He stumbled after her. Another bullet struck a tree a foot from his left shoulder.
    Come on, you damned leg, keep going. Move!.
    His leg must have heard him because he sprinted, moving quickly through the trees. She had to be bleeding; she had to slow down soon.
    He saw her leaning against an oak tree, panting, hunched over Blood covered her white shirt and flowed down her side over her jeans. She held his SIG in one hand and pressed her other hand to her chest. He saw blood seeping out between her fingers.
    “Lissy, it’s over. Drop the gun. You’re hurt, we’ve got to get you help.”
    She looked toward where he was hidden and fired. The shot went wide, sliced a small branch off an oak tree to his left. She fired again and again even when he knew she couldn’t see him.
    He remained quiet, solidly behind a tree, out of her line of fire.
    She cursed him, and through her rage he heard the pain. A bullet took the bark off right by his face, sliced his cheek. Another damned scar. How many more rounds could she have in his SIG?
    Savich knew she wouldn’t stop.
    It was enough, he thought; it was too much. He came out from behind the tree.
    “Drop the gun, Lissy!”
    She didn’t. She yelled at him, “I hate you! I’m going to kill you!.” She ran straight at him, screaming curses, her blood dripping from her arm, and she aimed her gun at his chest.
    Savich pulled the trigger. The bullet struck her between the eyes. The force of