Rita Royale. Terry Jr. Anderson

you won at cards last night.”

      She turned her face, smiled, kept walking.

      “I heard you got an eyeful.”

      The sergeant looked back. “Cut the chatter, O’Brien.”

      “Yes Sergeant.” He smiled at Rita.

      Fifteen minutes later the squad came to a halt. Five people were placed spaced apart on one side of the road and the remaining four opposite, but down a ways from the others. The van would be running a gauntlet.

      Rita lay prone between two bushes, a clear view of the road. A good place to shoot from yet remain unseen by any passing vehicle. She could see Diz next to her about twenty feet away. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring down the road. The sergeant came up behind her.

      “Everything okay, Rita.”

      “Yes, Sergeant.”

      He crouched down on one knee. “Nervous?”

      She looked at him. “No. Just cold.”

      He looked around, looked up at the sky. “Yeah. Its cold. Anything you need?”

      Was he flirting? She was unsure. Probably not. Not now. “No Sergeant.”

      He stood up slowly. “Remember. When you hear my whistle, open up on ‘em.”

      Rita nodded. She liked this man. He seemed sure of himself. A man she could go for under different circumstances. A man worth getting to know maybe. Maybe even love. Probably not. But who knows? She shifted her rifle in her hands, shivered, tried to get warm. Watched the snow fall. Looked at Diz, his black hat white. Guessed her own hat was covered in snow too. Without even thinking she put a hand in her pocket and felt the two dollar coin, pressed her finger against the hole in the middle, squeezed the coin in her hand. Thought about having to pee. That last coffee she guessed.

      Rita was staring at the falling snow when she heard Diz whisper to her. She looked down the road and spotted a van followed by another van. Both moving fast, a tall dust and snow trail shadowing the vehicles, their tires throwing stones high in the air. She checked her rifle, took her aim. Waited. Watched.

      As the vans grew closer the whistle sounded. Rita and the others began firing at the lead vehicle. Watched it get hit and flip over, slide toward the opposite side of the narrow road and into the ditch. The other van was stopped, the side and front doors open, four men running into the thicket firing blindly. Two of them were killed instantly but the other two managed to escape into the bushes with Sergeant Gill and another militia man on their trail. Rita stood up and began to follow. Her mind not her own. A robot’s mind that moved her body on instinct. She could hear the pop pop pop from the opposite side.

      Rita was close to Diz and they now ran together on the gravel road hoping to cut off the fleeing enemy. As she ran she could see them off to her side, slightly ahead, running and firing behind them. They turned toward her and Diz and fired. Rita dropped to a knee and returned fire, her bullets hitting the first man, the second still firing in her direction. She watched him fall, shot from behind.

      She turned to Diz who was laying on the road, his gun a few feet away from him. She moved to him quickly, saw the blood seeping from his chest. She bent low and touched his face.

      “I guess I’ll never see your tits now, huh Rita?” He smiled a little, coughed, blood seeped from his mouth.

      “You’re going to make it, Diz.”

      He shook his head. “No Rita.”

      Rita looked in his eyes, opened her coat, lifted her shirt high, her breasts large and up close to his face.

      He smiled. “I knew they were perfect. I just knew it.” He stopped talking and stopped moving. Life left his open eyes.

      Rita lowered her shirt, began to cry softly, heard the others come up around them. She just kept her eyes on Diz.