Chapter 21

I’d not had any more nightmares about the shooting after that first night.

In fact, I had barely even thought about it, except for the joke about shooting the third perp in the balls. They started it; I just made bloody sure that I finished it. I’m not sure if the others believed us, but then again, they were Army personnel.

Ken gave me an assessing look and said, “Come, I want to run you through the course.”

It was set up as urban warfare. Don’t kill the citizens but take out the crooks. Ken made sure I had three full clips like any Police Officer carried and started the timer when I was ready. I had a lot of fun as I’d not run this course before, so it was great.

James ran it after me, and then the Army people took a turn each. I don’t think anyone was really surprised I did well. I did give James a big hug, as he did great, he didn’t kill any of the citizens and at least wounded every baddy. I think he was a little surprised, and he was quite chuffed.

“Bloody hell,” Aaron said when Ken posted our scores. He nudged James, “No wonder we didn’t stand a chance with her if you have to be that good to keep up with her.”

James looked at me and smiled, “Life with Dusty around is not boring. She challenges you to be the best you can be, by example. She is a lot like her father in that respect. I feel privileged that she chooses to have me in her life.”

That earned him a big kiss from me and a bit of ribbing from the rest about knowing how to suck up.

The weird thing happened on the way back from the range.

It was easier to exit the compound and use the streets to drive back to our residence that was in another section of the compound. A lot of trucks and buses were still of the combustion/electric variation. Many people still owned normal electric cars too. Not everyone liked to fly, could get the licence or afford a Linger.

The white van had pulled out from the side of the street and followed the mini-bus. Our driver slowed for a stop sign. The van slammed into us from behind, pushing us into the intersection. Our bus lurched to a stop throwing us forward into our seatbelts.

I was sitting in the seat across from the sliding door and behind the driver’s partition as I was last to get in. James was beside me at the window. The door clicked and went to slide open.

Unfortunately, for the person who opened it, it had an automatic drive motor, so you couldn’t just force it open. He pushed at the door to make it move faster. If he hadn’t had the gun in his hand, I probably wouldn’t have done anything.

Being left-hand dominant, my pistol was on my left hip, and I had clipped the seatbelt under it, so the butt of it was sitting forward on my thigh. Being ambidextrous, it was easy for me to use my right hand to unclip the pistol and pointed it at the man.

“Police, drop your weapon, now,” I yelled at him.

He froze for a second as the door slid back further, thus freeing his right hand. He proceeded to aim his gun at me.

I heard someone yell, “Get down, gun.”

“Drop it,” I tried again, but he was taking aim, so I fired, hitting him in the right shoulder.

He got off a shot, but it went wide of us. He screamed and stumbled back when my bullet smashed his collarbone near his shoulder. The gun fell from his useless fingers.

Someone was pounding on the driver’s door window. However, this was an Army bus, and it had armoured glass, so it didn’t break. I unclipped my seatbelt and headed out the door. The shooter was stumbling back to the van holding his shoulder. It didn’t take a lot of effort on my part to catch up with him.

I wrapped my arm around his neck, jabbed my pistol into his ribs and snarled, “I said, Police. You are under arrest for shooting at an Officer of the Law.”

I turned him so I could find the other perp. James had followed me out of the van and had run around to the front of the van. I heard him yell at the other man to drop his weapon. Then I heard two shots and two screams.

My blood froze in my body, and I’m sure my heart did too. I stood there frozen for several moments as James’ scream reverberated through my head.

James was down.

My James had been shot.

Then my training kicked in, “Down,” I screamed at the man I held.

I kicked at his legs and dropped him onto the ground. Despite his screams, I slapped my cuffs on him. Rod had followed me, and I told him to guard the man. Rod dropped his knees into the back of the man, causing him to scream when the force smashed his injured shoulder into the ground a second time.