away

again, driving

again, driving over the corpse of a horse. But the recruits were back at the windows in seconds, blasting away on both sides, wreaking havoc and carnage. Gretchen, in a fury, slammed open the rear window and started firing her automatic at the Croats fleeing toward Route 250 and Buffalo Creek. She only missed twice.
Once he reached the parking lot on top of the slope, Hans slammed on the brakes. Dumbfounded, he stared at the scene.
Equally dumbfounded, Dan stared with him. The entire area in front of the school was a cavalry battle. Bands of Croats were ­engaged in a desperate struggle with bands of other soldiers. Saber against saber; wheel lock against wheel lock.
The police chief had no idea who the other soldiers were. But he didn’t care. He could recognize an ally when he saw one—and