What was that?
It was faint, high-pitched… like a ping. It’s a familiar sound…
I frown as a small hole appears in front of Ruby, the edges of it spider-webbing across the glass. My primal instincts tell me straightaway what’s happening, but I can’t do anything. Time slows to a crawl as I stand on the crowded sidewalk, my feet feeling like they’re sinking in quicksand. I look on helplessly as the coffee cup explodes in her hand a split-second before she’s punched off her seat from the impact of what I can only surmise at this point to be a high-caliber sniper round.
Shit!
My first reaction is to look in the direction opposite the restaurant to see if I can pinpoint where the shot came from.
I can’t.
I just see traffic and people running and screaming — which I note has been happening a little too often lately when I’m around…
The next reaction is to get to Ruby. I don’t want anyone else going to her aid in case she’s still alive and there’s a follow-up round being loaded into the chamber of a sniper rifle at this very moment. If anyone’s catching a random bullet, it’s me.
I sprint across the parking lot and burst through the door. I’m met with chaos and shouting, but I take a deep breath and ignore it. I mentally drown out all extraneous noise to the point where the only thing I can hear is the sound of the blood pumping from Ruby’s body.
I push through the crowd of people huddled around our table. Ruby’s lying on the floor. There’s a small pool of spilt coffee at her side, and several fragments of the cup she was holding when she got hit are scattered all around.
There’s a thick puddle of blood behind her head and torso. Her eyes are wide and unblinking. I look at her chest. It’s rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths.
Well, that’s something…
I crouch beside her. “Ruby? Ruby, talk to me — are you okay?”
Nothing moves except her eyes, which flick to me, staring at me as she furrows her brow.
I shake my head, silently cursing myself at the woefully inept attempt at helping. “Yeah, of course you’re not… never mind. Sorry.”
I can see the entry wound on her right shoulder, just below her collarbone. I carefully put my hand behind her and reach down her back, feeling for an exit wound. My finger touches the wet, sticky flesh an inch or two below her neck.
“Okay, the bullet went through and through — that’s a good thing. Can you move?”
She takes a few extra breaths, mustering up the energy to speak.
“Do I… have… to?” she manages, wincing with each syllable.
I shrug. “No, you can stay here and get shot some more if you want? Or you can wait for the EMTs and the police, see how that goes. Or you can get your ass up so we can find the sonofabitch who just shot you. Your call, sweetheart.”
“I… hate—”
“Me… Yeah, I know you do.” I smile, and she just about succeeds in returning it. I move my arm behind her head, and grab her hand in mine, preparing to lift her. “Okay, this is gonna sting like a bitch…”
I lift her up, and she unleashes a scream of agony that might actually raise the dead. I shift around to her left side and put her arm around my neck, moving my right arm around her waist to support her.
“Come on,” I say. “You can do this.”
In front of me, the crowd of onlookers slowly moves out the way. A guy steps forward and looks at me. “Hey, buddy, shouldn’t you call the police or an ambulance or something? She’s just been shot!”
I stop and stare at him, unable to hide my frustration as I struggle to hold Ruby upright. “Look, you and everyone else here might not be able to comprehend the full extent of what’s just happened, so let me clarify.” I cast a glance over the crowd around me and raise my voice so everyone can hear. “My friend’s just been shot by someone with a sniper rifle. You all know what one of those is, right? And I genuinely believe the intention is to kill her. Now, I happen to have a pretty good idea who pulled the trigger. I also happen to know he’s a pretty good shot. Which means this non-lethal wound wasn’t an accident. It was intentional, so she’d feel pain. Which leads me to believe that right now he’s still looking down his scope at us all, lining up his next shot, which he may or may not have decided is the one that will finish her off. And you bunch of assholes are standing here watching…”
I pause, looking around once more to see if any of what I just said is sinking in. The silence and blank stares tell me it probably isn’t…
Okay, I’ll try the shock tactics instead.
“Guys, you have a sniper aiming at you… run!”
The silence holds another second or two, then the screaming restarts with renewed volume and vigor. People start running in every direction out of panic before focusing long enough to aim for the door.
There we go… idiots!
I hear another ping as a second bullet penetrates the window. I drop to the floor on instinct, dragging Ruby down with me. I land on my back and she falls on top of me, momentarily winding me. Off to my left, a man hits the floor with a smoking hole in the center of his forehead. His eyes are wide and blank. The screams grow louder again as I lose valuable seconds staring at the innocent blood running from his skull like a faucet.
Goddammit!
I look at Ruby. Her face inches from mine. She’s in visible pain, wincing from her gunshot wound as I hold her in place on top of me, trying to press her as low as possible for cover.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, but can’t manage to form words.
“We need to move. Suck it up, alright? You can bleed later.”
As gently as I can, I slide out from under her, move to a crouch, and scoop her up again, placing her arm around my neck as before. Practically dragging her, I push us through the stampede and out the doors, stepping onto the sidewalk. I head toward the back of the building, out of sight, down North Ohio Avenue.
The way I figure it, judging by the position of the bullet holes in the glass, the sniper — who I’m going to go ahead and assume is The European — is somewhere east of the convention center and north of Applebee’s. There was practically no angle of elevation on the holes, which suggests to me he’s at street level, so presumably shooting out the back of a stationary vehicle. I didn’t hear a shot, which means he’s not using anything as big as a .50 cal’. Maybe a Savage, or a Remington…
Now that we’re out of sight, it’ll take him a few moments to get back behind the wheel and track around to follow us, by which time, hopefully, I’ll be ready for him.
We turn onto Arctic and head toward the strip mall at the opposite end of the plaza from Applebee’s. I don’t want to try losing him in a crowd because he’s already proved he won’t let something trivial like an innocent life get in the way of taking us out. I just need to get someplace where he can’t follow me in his vehicle, yet still keeps me close enough to him that his rifle becomes ineffective.
Ruby’s dragging her feet next to me and breathing heavily. I glance sideways at her and see her fighting to stop her eyes from rolling up in her head. The wound is far from fatal, but exertion and blood loss can take their toll on a person after getting shot. She needs to rest…
We make it to the plaza. I head for a nearby bench and gently lower her onto it.
“Rest here, okay? I’ll be back.”
She flops back heavily as she sits. She looks around for a moment, dazed, before focusing her gaze on me. “Where… what are you…?”
I place a hand on her left shoulder. “Relax. I’m going to—”
Tires screech behind me. I spin around to see an old station wagon sliding to a stop in front of the plaza. It came from the left, did a one-eighty, and stopped with the driver’s door against the curb. It opens and a man wearing a tailored shiny suit and sunglasses, which probably cost more than most people make in six months, steps out. He doesn’t shut the door; he just walks toward me unbuttoning his suit jacket.