The Quest: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 6 Read Online Free

his trigger pull that the slight twitch in his right hand escaped him completely.
         Perhaps John Castro had a higher power watching over him. Perhaps it just wasn’t his time. Or perhaps, as he’d told Hannah many times before, he was just the luckiest man on earth.
         For at the exact moment Robbie was easing the trigger back on his rifle, John turned his head to look at a small jackrabbit he’d spooked from the brush.
         It was those two things, occurring simultaneously, that caused Robbie’s bullet to miss his target. Robbie had carefully aimed for the center mass of John’s head, in the hopes that the .556 bullet would enter his skull through a small entry hole, then tumble enough to explode through the back of the head, taking most of the brain matter with it. Instead, the bullet pierced John’s scalp toward the back of his head, crushing the back of his skull and rendering him instantly unconscious. It exited through the scalp at the back of his head and buried itself harmlessly in the ground forty feet away from him.
         In essence, John’s good luck and Robbie’s itchy hand combined to trade a guaranteed kill shot for a glancing blow which might be fatal.
         But which also might not be.
         His second shot was better, but still missed its primary target.
         Four millimeters.
         That was the space between the right atrium of John’s heart sac and the path the second bullet traveled through his body.
         Four millimeters.
         It was entirely likely that the bullet missed the heart simply because it was contracted as it beat. The same bullet, following the same path half a second later, might have torn through a heart full of blood and caused irreparable damage.
         John’s good luck was holding. But just barely.
         For although he was still alive, the second bullet caused him significant wounds. His lung was now punctured on the front side, ripped open at the back, and one of his ribs was splintered.
         Either wound, the one to his chest or the one to the back of his skull, could still kill him.
         But he was blissfully unaware his life was even in danger. Or that anything had happened.
         He was still unconscious, the right side of his face lying passively in the dirt. Tiny fire ants traversed his left cheek, no doubt wondering what this monstrosity was and how it came to lie on their nest.
         Blood flowed from his chest, his back, and his head. From his back protruded a shattered piece of rib bone.
         A house fly landed upon it and savored the sticky blood which covered it.
         But John knew nothing of that.
         John was engulfed in a merciful, pain-free blackness.
         He had no idea that life itself was draining from his body.
         One heartbeat at a time.
         Robbie Benton had no clue that both of his bullets missed their marks.
         And really, why would he? His first shot dropped his target instantly. Just as it would have if he’d been dead center on John’s head.
         His second shot hit John in the chest. There was no doubt in Robbie’s mind.
         Of course, it was just enough off target to take away his guarantee that the shot would be fatal.
         But Robbie didn’t know that.
         Robbie arose from his sniper’s nest, full of self-satisfaction. He’d done what the insurgents in Fallujah hadn’t been able to do. He’d done what the deadly plague which ravaged the area hadn’t been able to do.
         He’d been able to finally kill John Castro, who many had come to believe was invincible.
         Only… he hadn’t.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    -4-
     
         “What’s your game plan?”
         It was Scott’s question, although several of the others gathered around the dining room table had wondered themselves.
         Sara looked at Tom, who said,