World War IV: A Broken Union Read Online Free PDF Page A

scout team here had been fairly small, enough to dispatch what settlers lived here, but if the Mars governor sent his army north, then they could have been overwhelmed. The commander grunted in affirmation and went to seeing the general’s request completed without any dissent. Not that Rodion would have allowed such an insubordination.
    A gunshot shattered the quiet air like ice and ricocheted off the rocky beach next to Rodion, sending the men landing on the beach into a frenzy, some ducking, a few reaching for their rifles and firing blindly into the tree line.
    “Cease fire!” Rodion’s orders silenced his men but not their attacker. Rodion pressed forward, keeping a steady pace as another bullet sent a spray of sand a foot from his left, yet Rodion neither ran nor ducked. He simply squinted his eyes, scanning the horizon for the shooter’s position.
    A quick blur flashed to his right in the cluster of trees, and Rodion grabbed the pistol from his side and fired but hit only tree bark. “Horses!” Rodion mounted the first stallion that was brought his way and took chase, the steady beat of the animal’s hooves thundering against the frozen earth.
    Rodion followed the trail where he saw the shooter flee, keeping both his eyes and his ears open for any sign of where the assassin could be hidden. With the number of shots that were fired and the length of time that passed between them, it had to be a powder gun.
    The horse whinnied and reared when Rodion pulled back on the reins harshly, jerking the animal to a stop. The stallion stomped the ground defiantly, and Rodion turned the animal left then right. The trees had thickened, but the footprints ended behind one of the thicker clusters. Rodion leapt from the horse and pulled the revolver from the holster on his right hip.
    Years of navigating the Russian tundra had left him sure of foot on even the slickest, iciest terrain. Hunting, he’d learned to keep quiet. When he pressed the sole of his boot down, you couldn’t even hear the faintest crunch of snow and earth. Soundless, he crept up behind the group of trees where the prints ended, and in the quiet of the forest, he heard panicked breath.
    Rodion whipped around the tree, knocking the barrel of the rifle away from the shooter’s face just as she fired a shot into the sky. Rodion seized the rifle then flung the shooter up against the tree trunk, his thick hand around the assassin’s throat.
    The assailant was a young girl, no older than fifteen, but with the shade of red and purple her cheeks turned from the lack of airflow, it was hard to say for sure. Rodion looked around, seeing if anyone came to the girl’s aid. When it became apparent she was alone, he released his grip, and she dropped to the snow, gagging for breath. Rodion aimed the revolver at the girl. “Who sent you?” His English was thick and sloppy, but the pistol was translation enough.
    The girl was still on her hands and knees, sucking air. She coughed and hacked as spit dribbled down her chin and snot flung from her nose. When she finally looked up, it was to the sight of the revolver’s barrel, and she scurried backwards, only to run into the dead end of the tree trunks.
    “Do you want to die, girl?”
    The girl kicked her heel at Rodion, knocking him in the shin. He cracked the pistol against her cheek, knocking her to the ground.
    Blood trickled down her face and brightened the light, white layer of snow. The girl’s arms shook, and she tried to push herself up. Rodion yanked her up with one powerful motion and tossed her dazed body against the tree as if she was a rag doll. He thrust the barrel of the pistol right under her nose and pulled her hair back, exposing the bruise and cut on her face. “Tell me where your camp is, and I’ll let you live.”
    “Just like your men let my family live when they stormed our village in the middle of the night?” The girl’s voice cracked from the dry cold, and her eyes lolled back and forth