Discovery (Science of Psionics Book #1) by Dave Renol (sad books to read .txt) 📗

a random window of thehouse. Sometimes the shield held up, but if the attack had too manyshots then it usually resulted in another broken window. Linda wasgetting pissed off at both the danger as well as the damage.

With the phone reception only going on longenough for Sid to send us his messages, it was obvious that he hadat least one other person helping him. There was no way he coulddiddle with the cell tower and still take shots at the house. Basedon the windows that were shot out, it was more likely that he hadat least three or four.

Sara suggested that we sleep in shifts inorder to keep fresh, but all of us were too keyed up to try goingto sleep. She didn’t try too hard to convince us though. She was inthe same boat as the rest of us since she made no move toward thebedroom herself. The four hour alarm clock at our windows surewasn’t helping things.

“Keep alert everyone,” Sara called out. “Ifhe keeps to schedule, then we can expect another attack soon. Weneed to spot their fire locations if we’re to have any chance ofstopping them.”

“Even if we spot him, what exactly did youhave in mind?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure that he’s out of range ofboth your pistol and our abilities.”

“We can’t make any plan unless we know thedetails, and spotting their location is the first detail we need.Once we know that, we can consider options. Maybe we run, maybe wefight. Maybe we wait him out, maybe we give in. All I know rightnow is that he has the advantage, and I am going to keep lookinguntil there’s something else I can do.”

Figuring out something else that I could dowas easy. I made more coffee. Nobody had much of an appetite, buteveryone greedily welcomed the hot mugs that I periodicallydistributed. I had just finished doling out the latest round ofjava when I saw Linda stiffen up and heard the tinkle of brokenglass coming from the back bedroom.

“There goes another window,” Linda reported.“That was your bedroom Sara; I’ll need to rebuild the shield. Yourlunatic hubby owes me for a lot of bloody damage now.”

“Don’t even think of going there,” Sara saidhotly. “The next time that bastard is within my reach, he’s a deadman. This attack pisses me off on so many levels; I hardly knowwhere to begin. First, there’s the fact that he’s actually shootingat ME. He also shot and hit Carl, he’s tearing up your house, andhe’s trying to wear us down with these continuous barrages. I thinkthe thing that offends me most is that he’s using my own sniperrifle to shoot at me. I don’t think I could ever forgivethat.”

“How do you know he’s using your rifle?” Iasked.

“When he went back home to take care ofbusiness, I gave him a list of things to bring back for me and itwasn’t just clothes that I wanted. It included several weapons frommy personal collection, my basic Ranger’s kit, and my prizeDragunov sniper rifle.”

“I took it home as a trophy from Afghanistan.Our platoon was ordered to secure a section of the city street bystreet. We had barely started the sweep when we were halted byenemy sniper fire. The squads moving through the streets on eitherside of us were in the same boat and couldn’t assist. We werebasically stuck, held at bay by a mere handful of enemy riflemen. Iwound up laying on a pile of sharp debris and broken glass for nineand a half hours waiting for a clean shot. When I finally pluggedhim, it allowed my squad to advance and flank the other enemysnipers. I took his weapon as a souvenir.”

“That’s pretty wild,” I said. “I’ve neverheard many war stories from you.”

“Most of them don’t make for good dinnerconversation unless you have a strong stomach.”

“Dragunov sounds Russian. Is it anygood?”

“Yes,” she replied fervently. “It has eighthundred and thirty meters per second muzzle velocity, ten roundmagazine, and the scope range is adjustable up to thirteen hundredmeters. I can castrate a fly at a thousand yards with it, and wouldgive my right arm to have it with me right now.”

“What was it packed in?” Linda asked.

“It was in my sand-camo duffle, why?”

“Well,” Linda said with a smirk, “I don’twant your right arm, but if that’s the bag you need, then it’sinside your bedroom closet.”

“What? I thought that was in the truck stillwith the rest of the stuff he brought from home.”

“Nope, when Sid was unloading your suitcasefrom the truck, he mentioned that the camouflage duffel was yours.I put it in your closet later so you would have it handy.”

“Hot damn,” she said enthusiastically. “Beright back.”

I had to grin as I saw her scamper into thebedroom like a little kid on Christmas morning rushing for presentsunder the tree. A shout of victory, and she emerged carrying herduffle.

“It’s all here! Now it’s time for a littlepayback. That little shit-eater won’t know what hit him.”

As she began pulling stuff out of the bag,she paused and handed me her hand gun.

“Give this to Carl. He should have some wayof defending himself other than his ugly face.”

She picked another hand gun for herself,several spare clips, and a Bowie knife that made the one from theRambo movie look like a toothpick. Fondly stroking a case that shehalf pulled out from the bag, she threw us an evil grin and hauledher gear into the office. If looks could kill, then I would hate tobe in Sid’s shoes right now.

Curious, I poked my head around the corner ofthe office. She had her precious case open on the floor next to herand was rapidly inspecting and setting up her gun. Once satisfied,she set it aside and pulled out what looked like a Buck Rogers raygun.

“Soviet NSPU night vision scope,” sheexplained before I could ask. She hunkered down next to the windowand began slowly scanning the area. “I think that I know thegeneral area where the shots came from, but it’s a lot of forestout there. I’ll have to get lucky in order to spot ‘em. Sinceyou’re here, keep