The Ex

by Margaret Ferguson

  “Me?” I exclaimed, sitting upright. After a moment, a small smile crept upon my lips.

  “Don’t look so smug,” she reprimanded. “For all we knew, Henry was dead. I’d finally accepted it and was doing just fine—until you came along.”

  “You say that as though it were a bad thing,” I quipped

  Mary Beth couldn’t help but grin at my dry wit. “You were a challenge.”

  “But, I was charming,” I said, leaning closer.

  “Oh, is that what you call it?” she laughed. And when she stopped, her voice changed. She looked down, again toying with her ring before facing me. “I told him.” Her words hung in the air. “I told him everything.”

  I breathed out. “And?”

  “And, I told him I still loved him. And that we could start over.” Then she added sadly. “And, after that, well… things changed. We changed.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t take it the way you’d hoped,” I said, semi-sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Mary Beth shook her head. Then she added, under her breath, almost as an afterthought. “Nothing happened, right?”

  Ouch. Those words weighed heavy on our conversation. Not to mention, they stung like hell. I had considered reaching for her hand but thought better of it.

  Her eyes were fixated on mine, sadness in their depths. And, then, Mary Beth did what she did best. She deflected. “So, tell me what you’ve been doing for the past year. What’s new and interesting in Eddie Roarck’s life?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “I quit smoking,” I exhaled.

  She wrinkled her lips. “That’s a good start.”

  “Nothing like being stuck on an Afghan mountaintop in the only village that didn’t have cigarettes to spare.”

  Mary Beth chuckled softly to herself, and when I didn’t elaborate, she looked at me expectantly.

  “I quit the Army.” I continued, drawing imaginary circles on the table with my finger. “Sort of.”

  “I thought you loved your job.”

  “I did. I do.” I leaned back, my arms across the back of the booth, as I stared at the brick wall behind her. “I mean, I signed on with the Guard. But, then—things changed.”

  “What changed?”

  I looked her in the eyes, hesitating. “It’s complicated.”

  Mary Beth tilted her head inquisitively. “There’s something else,” she purred, curiously studying me; narrowing her eyes as though it helped her to figure it out. As she leaned closer, I watched a Cheshire grin grow on her lips.

  “I told my stepfather I’d help him for a year with one of the restaurants.” I toyed with my napkin.

  “And?”

  “And—I’m getting married,” I answered sheepishly, feeling immediately guilty for not sounding more excited. “Well, that is, if she ever speaks to me again.”

  “You told her we were meeting,” she stated, almost ashamedly.

  I shook my head. “I wish it were that simple.” I exhaled dramatically. “We didn’t get that far.” I finally looked up at her. “Prenup.”

  “Oh. Hmm,” Mary Beth hummed. “I’m guessing that didn’t sit well?”

  I rubbed my cheek. “Nope.”

  After a long, painful silence, she said, “Married? Wow.” There was a touch of surprise in her voice. “That’s great,” she added, her smile growing. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky girl?”

  I hesitated. “Emily.”

  Her eyes widened. “Emily. Hmm,” she murmured again. “I would have guessed Amanda.”

  I shook my head, a little annoyed. “Why does everyone think it would have been Amanda?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You were together for several years. You said you were going to ask her, but the timing was never right. And then there were the ‘I couldn’t care less if I ever saw Emily again,’ comments.”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “We found each other again.”

  Mary Beth breathed out, her words barely audible. “You found each other again.” Then, those soulful eyes filled with tears. Instinctively, I reached my hand across the table to squeeze hers, but she immediately leaned back, brushing the moistness from her cheeks. Mary Beth’s eyes met mine again. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It was—”

  “A God thing?” she asked, cynically. “Sorry,” she added quickly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I guess,” she sniffed, dropping her head into her hands. “I thought Henry would understand.”

  I felt her pain. I really felt her pain. Honestly. I wanted to take her into my arms and hug her, but didn’t, for fear she’d run away. So, I did the next best thing. I winged it. “His ego was wounded,” I motioned, nonchalantly. “We of the male persuasion prefer to think that the women we have left behind are pining away, unable to ever find anyone else who can make them as happy as we did.”

  Mary Beth laughed through tears. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “He really loves you,” I insisted.

  “Why? Because he told you so?” she asked with a sniff and a hint of sarcasm.

  “No. I mean yes,” I replied sincerely, leaning closer. “I saw it in his eyes every time he talked about you. I heard it in his voice when he thought he was losing you. I saw a bond so deep that nothing could break it.” I took her hands into mine and held them tightly. When she didn’t pull away, I reiterated, “Nothing. Henry’s just hurt and confused. You’ll find your way back to each other. I know you will.”

  “Like you and Emily?”

  “Yeah, like Emily and me.” I breathed out, forcing a smile. “Hey. Nothing is impossible, right?”

  Mary Beth looked at me, as though receiving instant clarity. “With God, nothing is impossible—everything is possible,” she repeated softly.

  “Everything,” I assured her, hoping she was right, though my heart was suddenly uncertain.

  The waitress interrupted us as she placed our meals on the table, making sure everything was as we ordered, then leaving us to our conversation.

  Mary Beth unwrapped her silverware and placed the napkin in her lap. She grinned to herself then looked up at me. “Emily, huh?” she smirked.

  I sat back again. “Will you give it a rest?”

  She breathed in. “Well, for the record, some women want to think that the men they leave behind are pining away, unable to find love again.” Mary Beth tilted her head as her eyes searched mine. “I guess I’m sort of glad to see you did.”

  I looked down at my hands.

  “Sort of.”

  When I looked back up, her devilishly, beautiful smile was suddenly contagious. “Me, too,” I grinned. “Sort of.” I think it was as near to closure as we were going to get. But I was good with that. We shared a special kinship that I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever forget. We were here together now. We had now. A chance to at least part as friends.

  I don’t know what made me look away, but I did, just for a moment. A fraction of a second. And, it was at that moment that I saw the truck barreling toward—

  …us.

  Chapter 13

  It didn’t slow.

  It didn’t swerve.

  Just before it hit the windows, I heard the screams. Immediately, I jerked Mary Beth from the other side of the booth and pulled her into the doorway leading to the kitchen just feet away, protectively shielding her body with mine.

  The whole building shook upon impact; the rumble of the engine thundering when the radiator exploded, crushed between the cattle guard, bumper, and the fan blade as it tore through pulleys and belts, finally, jamming into the motor. The sounds, frighteningly familiar. Shattering glass. Painful cries for help.

  Dust and debris rained down on everyone within fifty feet of the entrance. The noise was deafening. The engine whined and sputtered, atop the rubble it had moments before bulldozed into the center of the room. Steam spewed and hissed, mixed with wailing that erupted from everywhere. Panicked calls to
911 could be heard all around us.

  I was concerned that someone had suffered a heart attack and been unable to stop, or maybe hit the gas pedal, instead of the brake. So, when the truck finally landed some ten yards from us, we both, instantly jumped up and rushed to render aid, simultaneously dodging tables and trying to calm people along the way. It was only when I looked up and saw him step from the truck, that I knew—we were in serious trouble.

  Mary Beth didn’t, running right into me.

  Others saw him, too. That’s when the pandemonium began. Terrified screaming. Outright panic.

  Average height. Late forties, maybe. Tactical bulletproof vest worn over a drab green t-shirt. No mask. A rifle was slung over one shoulder with another, an AR-15, resting confidently in his grip as he guardedly surveyed the restaurant. Intuitively, my eyes traveled downward, where I identified two holstered pistols, plus a knife strapped to his right thigh. I wouldn’t usually note that the desert fatigues were tucked neatly into his well-worn military boots, except for the knife cinched to his left calf. Most notably, he wore a full grenade bandolier.

  “Get to an exit, now!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, trying to be heard over the howls of pain and screams of terror. “Get down. Stay low to the ground,” I instructed, pushing bystanders hurriedly past me.

  And then he fired into the air.

  Some ran for cover; others ducked where they were. Many pled for help from trained dispatchers while others called loved ones, crying. Dozens of brave souls managed to steal past the gunman through the damaged entrance and broken windows.

  Since we were closer to one of two clearly marked rear exits, I continued to push Mary Beth backward towards the kitchen. Tables were upended, chairs overturned; people tripped over one another in their attempts to escape. In the melee, somehow, we needed to remain invisible.

  As he completed a three-sixty survey of the room, the visibly dazed driver, younger and shorter than his partner, stepped into view, atop the rubble. He was also armored and armed to the teeth. Only—what he held in his arms took my breath away. The simple apparatus was grayish-green. Plastic. Horizontally convex. Within its bowels lay hundreds of tiny ball bearings and a C-4 charge, giving it an effective kill radius of at least fifty meters; making it one of the most dangerous devices ever invented. The embossed wording was clearly visible. “Front Toward Enemy.”

  The older perp whistled, tapped his watch and held up his hand, fingers outstretched to signify ‘five minutes.’ His companion nodded, then fired above the crowd, just before disappearing behind the truck and from my view. Everyone immediately ran away from the threat and toward the nearest marked exit at the back of the building. While the other—Alpha as I’ll refer to him for now—routed those on our side of the truck in the same direction, just by pointing his gun at them.

  With tactical precision, he swung his rifle over the bed of the vehicle. Slowly, stealthily stepping heal to toe to the passenger corner of the tailgate, where he immediately raised his gun, firing aimlessly into the ceiling again. Providing obvious cover.

  Military trained.

  Frightened patrons fled deeper into the room, away from the predictable trap his companion was setting, to prevent anyone outside from getting in. And, to prevent anyone inside from getting out. Two soldiers ran toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, attacking it with chairs in their attempt to create another way to escape. Others followed, undeterred; fleeing frantically through the remaining shards of broken glass that protruded from their metal frames like jagged teeth.

  “Four minutes,” the alpha yelled to his co-conspirator.

  As those unlucky enough to still be inside grasped their predicament, their screams of desperation and fear turned to terror. Some of them were too panicked to think clearly. Most, too terrified to realize they were being herded. I crouched beside a wall of bricks and mortar between some of the booths.

  We were definitely in trouble.

  “Everyone move it,” the alpha demanded, rounding the back of the truck, his rifle fanning about as he moved quickly to the front of the vehicle. He fired into the ceiling again, continuing his advance toward the frightened captives. Several patrons squatting nearer the front of the truck took advantage of their invisibility and rushed toward and through the broken entrance.

  Instinctively, I crouched down, keeping Mary Beth behind me. I warily pushed her back, one step at a time, all without taking my eyes off of the man in front of the truck who hadn’t spied us. Yet. But, I knew, it was just a matter of time. Through the fracas, the old vehicle continued to hiss and moan as it slowly died atop the debris and victims possibly crushed beneath its weight. The air was filled with dust and horrified screams and background music that had no regard for the crisis at hand.

  “Three minutes,” he warned, just before firing again into the air, sending patrons farther and farther away from the front door.

  A half-dozen people from the kitchen, who had scrambled into the restaurant when the vehicle exploded through the entrance, stood, mouths agape at the grisly scene. Many more dropped compliantly—fearfully—to the floor, attempting to crawl to safety.

  A wounded man knelt to assist an injured woman, who’d fallen beside the antique mahogany back bar that stretched along the entire northern wall of the building. When he glanced at the gaping hole mere yards away, I saw him hesitate, contemplating their odds, I’m sure. Silently, I willed him to stay put, yet— My heart skipped a beat when he quickly whisked her toward the opening, his eyes always on the armed men by the truck while attempting a daring escape. Only, the younger perp saw them, too. We all watched in horror as he stood, raised his rifle and aimed, like a hunter trailing his prey.

  The rapport of the shot was loud. Distinct. However, he missed. It was a clear shot, less than twenty feet, and he missed. The shooter lowered his rifle, aimed his finger as though it were a gun, and pretended to pull the trigger. The startled young man grabbed the woman around the waist and whisked her through the newly broken window to freedom.

  Suddenly, two soldiers charged the alpha to distract, and/or disarm him. Only, he drew his sidearm, shooting them each in a leg, re-holstering the weapon before either men hit the ground. Then he spat onto the floor, and yelled to his partner, “AJ. Two minutes!”

  AJ…

  I pressed Mary Beth farther behind me before motioning for the few remaining gawkers to back up. “Get to the exit, now!” I ordered in a loud whisper to those around me. Some complied while others sheltered in place. One didn’t move, whether from absolute terror or sheer curiosity. Until I realized that the damned fool was using his phone to film the catastrophe. A voice on the other side of the truck hollered. “Everyone on the floor or you will be shot!”

  I shuddered, silently mouthing one particular expletive, over and over and over again. Frustrated, I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t he just killed them? What could they possibly want? I chewed the inside of my cheek, drawing blood. Thinking. Cautiously, I glanced around the corner as the gunman continued to survey the room, assessing his surroundings. Our surroundings.

  I turned to Mary Beth, pushing her into the kitchen as a siren became audible in the distance, moving nearer by the second. “Go! You’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  Rapid-fire popped loudly from beyond the kitchen door, causing everyone instinctively to duck. “Turn off the lights,” I instructed a uniformed employee, who quickly complied. When the gunfire stopped, I grabbed Mary Beth by both arms and peered into her eyes. I had to catch my breath. Suddenly, I felt immense fear, like I was never going to see her again. “You have to go. Now!” I told her, reluctantly passing her into the arms of one of the cooks. She tried to argue, but I continued to interrupt, refusing to let her speak. “Take her. Go!” I insisted. Immediately, he pulled her toward the employee exit that opened into the alleyway. I forced a small smile, something to tell her not to worry. Something to tell her everything was goi
ng to be all right. If only I believed it myself.

  “One minute,” the alpha called out.

  After she had disappeared into the shadows, I crawled a few feet to one of the food prep tables and began arming myself. I slid a paring knife into my back pocket and then grabbed a larger sheathed one, shoving it into my sock. Probably not the best idea, but now, I had weapons. Warily, I moved to the door and opened it just a crack, returning to the gruesome scene before me. Suddenly, I was on the battlefield again. Except, here, everyone was screaming and running for cover.

  People hid or ran or pushed past me, some attempting to help the injured, others just trying to get to safety. I peered cautiously around the corner until I could see the armed man more clearly; the other still hidden to me. The alpha merely stepped past those lying in the rubble at his feet, oblivious to them. Indifferent. Injured diners that could, scrambled or crawled away: crying, disoriented and bleeding. Stragglers cowered in any place they could find. No mind was paid to the fortunate few that managed to crawl past him through the broken steel and glass and scattered bricks. Others were targeted and shot. Maimed. Deliberately. At first, it appeared random.

  At first.

  Screams and cries for help continued to compete with the music that poured from the speakers around us. Since a former Army Medical Corps psychiatrist shot and killed thirteen soldiers just down the street a few short years ago, Killeen has made sure that first responders, on and off-base, were better prepared for active shooter scenarios. Statistically speaking, almost ninety percent of these things are over in ten minutes or less. Half the time, they are over before emergency crews arrive on the scene. I could see the broken pattern of colored lights from different response vehicles circling the walls. I looked at my watch then breathed out. So far, we’re ‘O’ for two.

  “Time!”

  I heard whimpering close by. Peering around the corner, I found our waitress cowering under the booth where Mary Beth and I had sat, mere minutes ago. I pressed a finger to my lips and nodded. Quickly, she placed her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out, as tears streamed down her face. When the alpha was out of sight, I reached for her. Frantically, she shook her head. I encouraged her with my hand as she shakily stretched toward me. But, when another single shot rang out, she retreated deeper into the shadows beneath the table. No matter how much I prompted her to come to me, she wouldn’t. So, I left her there, trembling and sobbing.