Mania by J. R. Johansson Page A

wait. It was the same communication he’d taught me when we attacked the Takers’ base. I watched him carefully, waiting for his next instruction. The two officers were by the car, firing over their doors with a ton of ammunition scattered in boxes across the front seat. I counted to ten, watching and waiting.
    Jack seemed to be listening for something specific, but I couldn’t tell what … until I saw Jack find him. He pointed to a third officer twenty feet to our left. The third man had ducked behind a tree to reload.
    Jack gave me a confident nod and I could tell exactly what he was thinking: Three armed men? When we have no weapons? No problem.
    How on Earth could we be related? My thoughts were more along the lines of, We don’t outnumber them. We obviously need more people to help … and bulletproof vests.
    When the third guy finished reloading and started shooting in a different direction, Jack signaled and we moved. The shooter behind the tree had his sights on his victims in the clearing. He didn’t hear Jack sneak up until it was too late. Jack wrapped his arm around the cop’s throat and squeezed tight until, a few seconds later, the man stopped fighting back.
    Slowly lowering the guy to the ground, Jack felt for a heartbeat. When I heard the guy take a breath, I finally felt like I could take one too.
    â€œH-how did you know when to stop?” I whispered, so quietly that I wasn’t even sure Jack had heard me until he answered.
    â€œThree seconds.” He grabbed a thick but short stick from nearby and stood up, handing it to me. “Dad taught me those three seconds are the difference between being a fighter and being a killer, between victory and defeat—and for your enemy, those three seconds are the difference between life and death. Three seconds after they pass out is enough time to be sure your enemy is fully unconscious, but it’s usually not enough time to kill him.”
    â€œUsually?” I took the stick but didn’t even look at it. My stomach felt a little uneasy about our conversation.
    â€œYeah … ” Jack’s mouth formed a grim line, and he started inching toward the shooters by the police cars before finishing quietly. “It’s the ‘usually’ part that can make things a little tricky.”
    He gestured for me to follow him behind a tree. Once there, he kept peeking out and then ducking back in.
    His frown deepened every time he looked out until I asked, “What’s wrong?”
    â€œI can’t find a good position to get the older officer based on where he’s standing. The only place I can hit him from here is neck or head … both lethal.” He tapped the hilts of his blades together and shook his head. “I need to make him move.”
    Sneaking a glance around the tree, I could see what he was talking about. I swallowed back a rush of fear, knowing what I had to do.
    â€œBe ready,” I said, knowing Jack would argue with me if he knew my plan … but what was all my running good for if not a situation like this?
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDon’t let me die. Now go!” I whispered, then bolted out from behind the tree in a direction where the older officer couldn’t help but see me and would have to step away from the car to get a good shot.
    Before I even made it ten feet I heard the zipping noise of Jack’s blade slicing through the air. The younger officer cried out. I didn’t look back, but I heard footsteps as the older officer stepped away from the car and followed me. My heart pounded thunderously in my head. Everything was moving so slow—yet so fast that I couldn’t move or do anything to protect myself.
    Another zipping noise sounded just before the next gunshot rang out. Pain burned through the left side of my head; I tripped and fell to the ground as everything around me slowed down. Visions of Addie laughing, my mom smiling at me across the