The Refuge

Chapter 42

Invincibility lies in the defence; the possibility of victory in the attack. —Sun Tzu

G

ael’s shoulders jolted mightily at the gunshot that had violated the serenity of the forest. Icy tendrils shot up his spine, and he immediately dropped to his knees. Without thinking, he grasped Paloma’s shoulder and brought her down with him. Her arms snaked around his form, quivering in fear. 

The bullet had crashed through a thorny shrub a few meters away from the pair. Not an accurate shot, but still too close for comfort. Gael’s eyes pierced the treeline for a glimpse of the marksman, squinting to no avail. His heart pounded in his ears as he assessed the situation. 

A red dot appeared on Paloma’s forehead, and when Gael traced the red beam back to a rifle wielded by a Steelfortian police officer, he leapt into action. He shoved Paloma onto her back in the leaves and forest debris, coaxing a yelp from her lips. Another gunshot ripped through the air, and a bullet plunged itself into the ground, sending clods of dirt flying into Gael’s eyes. If he’d been a second too late, Paloma would have taken a shot to the head. 

Gael stumbled to his feet and snatched Paloma’s hand. After she leapt up, the two raced for cover in the trees. Leading the way, Gael hurried down an incline, a move that would hide them from the shooter for at least a while. The pair’s feet beat down on soft earth as they scrambled for safety. 

Once hidden behind a thick tree trunk, Gael and Paloma waited a moment to catch their breath. He peeked out from behind their cover and spotted two officers sprinting through the forest, each wielding an imposing rifle. They ran an aimless run, however, leading Gael to believe they’d lost sight of their targets. 

Paloma’s grip tightened on Gael’s hand, reminding him they’d never let go of each other. Terror shimmered in her eyes, reflecting the feeling he attempted to bury in his heart in favor of action. His gaze softened in sympathy. 

“Why … why are they doing this?” she asked, her voice a whisper. 

Gael gazed at the two officers once more, lips tightening when they changed direction and began stumbling toward their hiding place. “Not sure. We’d better move.” 

Once again, Gael led the way. He and Paloma raced for another hiding spot a few trees over. The wind rushed over his ears and the scenery sped by. Not once had he run so fast before, but hopefully he’d live long enough to do so again. 

Unfortunately, in their haste, Gael and Paloma made all sorts of noise, snapping twigs, snagging themselves on shrubs, and rustling low-hanging branches. The officers took note of their position and altered the course to pursue. Their rifles waved with the movement of their bodies. The muzzles occasionally gleamed in the rays of the setting sun. 

Gael and Paloma skirted to a halt behind another mighty trunk just as the officers opened fire. Their shots crackled through the treeline. A poor sapling absorbed one too many of the bullets, causing its slender stem to snap. It thudded to the ground and dropped its load of misshapen fruit to the ground prematurely. 

The largest and roundest of the gourds rolled a ways until it hit Gael’s boot. He stooped down to pick it up, ears still trained on the sounds around him. The gunfire had ceased, and the officers’ footsteps scampered in what seemed like the wrong direction. Paloma’s eyes flitted to Gael’s before returning to a frightened dance between the various trees around them. 

Gael took Paloma’s hand again, still clutching the gourd in the other. He peered around the tree to see the officers had parted ways to cover more ground, and while neither of them headed directly for his hiding place, one was meandering dangerously close.