Spies in Saddles [Book One]

Chapter Eight: How to Remove a Blindfold 101

Hey! How are all you guys? It's so cold over here brrrr I think the high for tonight is 14 degrees. And that would be Fahrenheit. Driving in this weather kinda sucks, but yeah. So I hope you enjoy this new chapter – I think there's only about, hmm, two? Yeah, probably two more after this one. Remember, it's just a short story with...basically no plot haha. After this I'm hoping to get a new book up that will be longer and have real stuff going on lol. Okay, thanks for reading, and please vote and comments loads!! Tell me what you think :)

PIc of Zach --->

MuCHIsimas gracias!! <3 vb123321

Chapter Eight

How to Remove a Blindfold 101

Most bullets, especially when fired from rifles, travel around six hundred meters per second. Katniss's bow would probably fire an arrow around four hundred feet per second. A knife can be thrown at forty-five feet a second.

(I asked Molly for these stats and she gave them to me without batting an eye.)

The average speed of a thrown basketball is ten feet per second. I know I'm in algebra-two, but you do the math – which would reach Zach first, the basketball or the bullet? Yeah, the right answer would be the bullet, except for one key thing. Speed of sound. Which, though even Molly had forgotten the exact formula, is much faster than a bullet.

Zach wasn't a teenaged spy for nothing. He'd heard me scream a second before the gun had gone off and had spun around with wide eyes – to be slammed in the stomach with my well-aimed basketball. His change in position was something the sniper hadn't predicted, apparently, because the bullet whizzed by Zach's arm with mere inches to spare.

Even as he was gasping for air, Zach dropped to the ground and crawled underneath the car, yelling, "Nat! Get down!"

Bullets sprayed into the sides of the car and the cement around him as he rolled further underneath the car. I fell to the ground, pressing myself up against the hedge and trying very hard not to throw up. My whole body was trembling, my head jerking with each retort of the gun. When it finally silenced, I dared to peek through the bushes to see if Zach was okay.

He shouted something suddenly, his voice drifting through branches: "Nat, RUN!"

I guess it was shock or something, but his words didn't register for a few seconds. When they did, with terrifying clarity, I looked over my shoulder to see a man emerging from the side of the building, gun pointed at me. Leaping to my feet faster than I thought possible, I sprinted away from the hedge across the old, cracked basketball court, my heart pounding. In that moment, all thoughts of the chloroform had left my mind.

Because I was so busy being scared and hoping Zach wasn't getting shot, I ran smack into something very solid, bouncing off it and staggering. Before I could move away, the man grabbed my arms, twisted me around, and locked his arm around my waist, crushing me against his body firmly. I screamed and kicked wildly, trying to break his iron hold, but he ignored me and hauled me back to the hedge like I weighed nothing.

"Nat!" Zach yelled when he saw me. He was still underneath the car, his own gun drawn and pointing at us. The sniper from the upper window was nowhere in sight.

"Put the gun down," snarled the Alley Man holding me. "Or your girlfriend dies."

I shook my head violently. "No, Zach! Get out of here!"

The Alley Man dug the cold barrel of his gun into my throat, choking me into silence. I pleaded with Zach with my eyes, but I guess he'd seen a few too many spy movies as well because he decided to make that stupid, noble choices all the heroes think they have to make. He slowly threw his gun forward, and it clattered loudly on the pavement as he rolled out from under the car and got to his feet with his hands in the air.