shoots two guys

What I’d done was a delaying tactic at best. It wouldn’t turn the barge around—but it would set it to spinning in place, and maybe cost the enemy time to turn it around if they took control of it again. But that was exactly what the Hunt needed to sink her—time. The longer the barge played sit-and-spin, the better. So I found a nice quiet patch of shadow where I could see the stairs leading up to the tug’s bridge, and where I could stand behind a very large steel pipe. I rested the Winchester on the top bend of the pipe, sighted on the doorway, and waited.
It didn’t take long for the first couple of crewmen to arrive. I wasn’t sure whether they came up from belowdecks or somehow swarmed over from the barge, but two men in dark clothing, carrying pistols at the ready, came hurrying along and started up the stairs.
I’m not a great shot. But when you’re resting a rifle on a solid surface, one that is perfectly still (at least relative to all the solid surfaces around it), and when the range is about forty feet, you don’t have to be an expert. You just have to take a breath, let it out, and squeeze.
The Winchester cracked with thunder, and the first man arched into a bow of agony just as he reached the top of the stairs. That ended up working in my favor. He fell back into the second man, just as the second guy spun and raised his pistol. The first man fell into the second, sending his first shot wild, and knocked him about halfway over. The second man couldn’t hold the gun with both hands, but he kept pulling the trigger as fast as he could.
At forty feet, terrified, in the dark, unsure of his target’s exact location, and sprawled out with the deadweight of another man flopping against him, the poor bastard didn’t have a chance. He got off seven or eight rounds, none of them coming anywhere close. I worked the action on the Winchester, took a breath, let half out, and squeezed the trigger.
It wasn’t until the flash of light from the shot illuminated him that I recognized Ace, his expression panicked, his gun aimed at a point ten feet to my left. The light flashed and burned his face into my retina for a moment as the dark returned.
And the tugboat was silent again.


Cold Days Chapter 44, Page 428-429