As they came up to the edge of the treeline, Wil spied the broken foundations and buildings that marked the edge of the rendezvous point. The last time he had made the trip he’d approached from the coast, not the forest. He tried to adjust, looking at the dilapidated concrete. Something moved.

 Snapping his elbow into an upwards 90 degree, Wil made a fist with his left hand. The children continued to talk and laugh. Glaring over his shoulder, he saw that none of them were looking his way.

Cameron noticed that he was looking at them, and stepped over to Wil - to give him a fist bump. “Bwoossssshhhh!” The boy exclaimed.

Furrowing his brow, Wil looked at Grace and tilted his head.

“Children!” Grace whispered. “He means get down and be quiet!”

“Why?” Doug scratched his chest. Just then the trees splintered and cracked as bullets shredded them. Wil rolled into Cameron, knocking him to the ground.

“Hey-!” Cameron complained while Wil returned fire while prone, holding him down with an elbow while the casings fell on his face.
        Wil looked back at Grace. “Stay here. Conserve ammo, but return a shot or two every time they reload.

“Wait-” Grace scrambled up to the front, “where are you going?”

Wil loaded a new clip, then chambered the first round. “Hunting.”

Grace fired off three quick rounds, followed by two more. Wil ducked back into the trees and ran behind a group of large trees, hoping the scouts hadn’t noticed. He peeked out from behind an old pine tree, and could barely see the two soldiers. But they continued to fire up the hill at Grace and the children.

When they ducked down to reload, Wil slid down the hill and ran bent over, hiding behind the few upright pieces of concrete that were left in the nearest building. Sprinting from cover to cover, he moved himself into a position behind them.  He stalked down a narrow alleyway created by two still-intact walls. Moving through the darkness, he put away his rifle and got out his sidearm and knife. Time seemed to slow as he waited for his moment.

Grace saw him poking out from the corner, and unloaded the last half of the clip from her submachine gun. This caused the two soldiers to cover, and pop up simultaneously to return fire. Grace grimaced as she pressed her forehead to the ground.

Wil sprinted towards the closest one, and plunged his knife into the back of his neck as he fired his last round at Grace. With his right hand he then fired at the other soldier, catching him in the shoulder as he turned toward Wil. Wil left the knife where it was and put his off hand back on his weapon, firing three more rounds into his enemy. The soldier dropped his rifle and fell to his knees, grabbing at Wil’s legs weakly as he fell over.

Wil stared at the soldier until he stopped moving, then holstered his sidearm. Just as he turned to go get his knife, a blow to the back of his head dropped him to the ground. His eyes took a long time to focus as his brain throbbed and he fought against the pain. Rolling over to his back, he watched as a third scout turned off her active camo and slowly became visible against the blue evening sky. She raised her rifle, and Wil heard a click. He closed his eyes, and sighed.

Bratatatatat. Fwump. Wil opened one eye as she fell over, almost landing at his feet. Standing right behind her was Margo, holding the first soldier’s gun.

“Sorry. I would have shot sooner, but this thing took a second to reload.” She smiled, and rested the butt of the gun on her hip.

Wil opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“For the last time, yes, I’m grateful, but no, you may not have the gun back.”

“Uuugh! This is so dumb!” Margo threw her hands up and stopped walking, waiting until Doug had walked by to take up the new last position in line. Wil had confiscated all the enemy weapons and ammo after they had regrouped.  They continued to trudge through the forest, always keeping the coastline in sight. The children didn’t understand why they couldn’t walk on the nice flat sand, just a few dozen meters from them. After the initial excitement of being shot at, their adrenaline was starting to wear off.

I’m hungry. I’m tired. I need to go to the bathroom again. My feet hurt.

Wil kept reminding himself that it wouldn’t be long until they met up with some friendly forces, and he could be rid of his title of babysitter. After leaving the compromised rendezvous point, he had decided they needed to push on further, citing that surely they would run into friendlies as they got farther from the front lines. But as the night wore on, they saw no one.