"Duck, you!" Tristan snapped just before more bullets peppered the sides and back of the car.
More windows were broken, but people inside the car took cover before they were hit. Flying shards of glass left scratches on skin, but most of it was covered by thick military-style clothing which protected its wearers from harm.
Tristan could barely see what was happening in front of the car anymore, since he was ducking, too. He poked his head up just enough to scan the grass ahead.
Then the car went out of the effective range of the enemy rifles and he lifted his head a little.
Bullets were still flying around, but now almost none hit. Tristan found a flatter part of the field and used it to speed up and push over the ditch again.
The second time was much less graceful than the first. The car hung over the emptiness dangerously for a moment, and Tristan wondered if it would get stuck now, but luck was on his side.
