The gunman was maybe ten years older than me. Six foot, maybe six-one. About twenty pounds lighter, but muscular. Fit. He definitely carried his weight in his arms and chest. Under even the most controlled, expected circumstances, I could take him down. Take him out. However, on the small chance that I couldn’t, others would surely pay for my shortsightedness. My cockiness.
“Name’s Eddie,” I said casually. “And you are?”
With his gun still pressed to Corbin’s head, the alpha took the bar towel and began dabbing at the open cut over his eye. Without wincing. I’d once had a cut about the same place while playing catcher—without a facemask—when a baseball tipped off a bat right into my brow. It had been as painful as hell, incredibly tender to the touch. Yet, this guy wasn’t flinching a muscle.
Suddenly, the second gunman appeared from the shadows, startling me. “Exit secure, sir.”
The alpha looked at me as though he knew my secret. “Perfect timing. Secure kitchen,” he commanded, his words hanging heavily in the air.
I tried to appear unfazed, though my heart beat rapidly inside my chest. I needed a distraction, and I needed it now. Then, from the corner of my eye, I spied movement.
Slowly, methodically, they crept toward the restaurant’s entry. Different uniforms. Matching tactical vests. All attempting to be invisible in a place where they stood out like Ninjas at a garden party as they made their way towards the entrance. First responders, intent on breaching.
I glanced to my right. Time slowed as the second gunman stepped towards the kitchen.
Twenty feet.
Think, Roarck. Think!
I glanced around the room.
Fifteen.
Then, suddenly, they stood, as one. The man: dark-skinned and white-haired. Older. Wearing his best church attire, though it was now covered in dust and debris; a red satin material square nested in his left pocket. Beside him, gripping his hand tightly, was a well-dressed woman in a calf-length print dress. A matching red scarf draped over her shoulders; a vintage wool flapper hat nestled over thick dark curls. They must have seen the team outside and decided to take the chance. Defiantly, hand in hand, they attempted to crawl over the rubble, heading for the gaping hole in the front of the building and rescuers’ arms. Their eyes remained on us the entire time.
Ten feet.
I glanced at those outside, continuing their advance. I watched in disbelief as those whose goal it was to eliminate the threat, before it eliminated them, neared the perimeter. Stealthily they inched forward. What the hell were they thinking? Did they not see the tripwire? When the leader glanced my way and caught my eye, he held up his hand, palm flat, halting his team. Ever so slightly, I shook my head. He immediately clenched his fist.
Five.
They all froze instantly. Except, one of them—didn’t.
I saw him take that last fateful step; heard the crunch as the weight of his footstep pressed the broken brick through the plate glass beneath it. Shattering it. The sound was loud. Unmistakable. Even Merle Haggard and the Strangers couldn’t drown it out. I caught my breath when the young gunman stopped advancing, his hand on the swinging kitchen door. He turned, seeing what I had mere moments before.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Chapter 16
Both shooters immediately trained their weapons on those around them, making sure we knew they hadn’t forgotten about us; bullying us, before turning their attention to those just yards away from the entrance. The alpha raised his rifle and fired over their heads into the building across the street. Several rounds clipped broken bricks and mortar that still remained above what used to be the entry, causing those inside and outside to duck. His partner walked quickly to the couple, pointing his gun at those attempting their daring escape. Everyone else around us screamed, pressing themselves lower against the floor in fear. Instinctively, I wanted to reach for the gun, but didn’t. Had I wrestled the alpha for it, I probably had less than a forty percent chance of making it. Not good enough odds to be sure.
The younger gunman towered over the couple attempting their escape. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, old man?” he hollered.
The elderly man drew his wife’s arm completely into his grip, continuing to stand firm.
“Huh?” AJ continued to browbeat the couple.
I watched the alpha ignore his co-conspirator as he continued surveying the room, while still keeping his eye on those outside.
“Do you not see my gun?” He held it up like an offering. “Did you not hear us tell you to stay on the floor, or you’d be shot?”
The woman trembled in her husband’s arms, tears streaming down her face.
“Well, didn’t you?” he bellowed.
The alpha’s eyes met those of the first responders outside. When he lowered the gun once more to Corbin’s head, slowly, reluctantly, they took a few steps backward without entirely retreating.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“What did you say to me, old man?” AJ leaned forward.
“I said, I’m not afraid of you,” the defiant gentleman repeated louder. “Son, I’ve fought wars in countries whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce. I’ve fought for change and for innocent lives. I’ve fought in every conflict and war since 1975. I’ve fought for people’s lives and to prevent terrorists from flying more planes into our skies again. What are you fighting for?”
The young gunman got into his face, only a breath away, opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when his cohort fired into the ceiling.
“Enough!” hollered the alpha.
His companion ignored him, pulling a pistol and holding it to the old man’s forehead. The man merely stared AJ in the eyes, refusing to be intimidated. Lips pursed. His wife grasped his lapels, hiding her face in his chest, whimpering. “You know, I fought wars too, old man,” AJ exclaimed.
“Seems to me like you’re still fighting one, son,” I heard the old man’s voice soften.
I saw something change in the young gunman’s expression, if only for a moment, just before his stare hardened once more, as he pressed the gun into the man’s face.
“AJ!” The alpha fired into the air again. “I said enough!”
AJ turned, jerking the older man by the arm and dragging him toward the other captives, his sobbing wife in tow.
The nameless gunman turned in a circle, holding Corbin by the scruff of his uniform, talking loudly to everyone within earshot. “Hear me now,” he exclaimed. “This entire building is wired,” he enunciated slowly but clearly, studying what was left of the diner as he turned. Anguished cries and gasps could be heard from all corners of the room. “If you attempt to leave, and we don’t shoot you first, you’ll be blown to bits.”
The man released Corbin, who collapsed to the floor beside him like a rag doll. Then, he pulled a grenade from his belt, continuing to pace in a circle, voice raised. “Anyone attempting to enter the building, if you aren’t blown up, you’ll be shot.” He dabbed his eyebrow with the bloody cloth before turning back to the prisoners. “So, make yourselves comfortable folks. Because we’re going to be here a while.” He looked at AJ. “Secure hostages.”
I cringed when I heard the word.
Hostages.
AJ stepped beyond one of the brick partitions and disappeared. And then, the alpha’s eyes fell on mine. And I held his stare. What the hell is all this for? I wanted to scream out. What do you want? However, I knew there didn’t need to be a reason. There’s never any logic to senseless violence, though perpetrators always find a way to justify their actions. He broke my stare, and I glanced about.
Nothing made sense. Maybe one of them got passed over for a promotion. Or his wife left him. Or his mother didn’t breastfeed him as a child. There’s a laundry list of rationale as to why people do the unexplainable things they do; self-pity, anger, guilt. My eyes landed back on our host.
Almost thirty years ago, another lunatic drove a truck into a restaurant and
shot more than fifty patrons. He was full of virulent hate, targeting people, especially women, before taking his own life. It was all over in less than fifteen minutes. He didn’t take hostages.
When I looked outside, I spied a police officer still crouched near the entrance, obviously wrestling with whether to fire. He had a sightline to the Alpha, but that would leave AJ, clearly, the less stable of the two. I’ve been where he is, knowing I had the opportunity, but weighing out everything before taking the shot. Would he end up being the hero of this little scenario? Or the goat.
Don’t do it!
As though my silent pleadings were heard, the officer army-crawled slowly, stealthily backward, sliding through rubble and glass. And blood. Until he disappeared.
My eyes moved between the gunmen, watching them. Studying them. I could see the wheels turning as the alpha checked his watch. We’d been here approximately twenty-five minutes. I could see the anxiety as the other one paced back and forth, before disappearing into the shadows again.
One of the wounded cried out painfully. “Help me, please!” the voice pleaded from the far side of the room. “Someone help me.”
I turned toward the cries. Of the approximately one hundred plus people that were in the restaurant when we arrived, I was guessing there were probably close to a dozen or more seriously injured, maybe even dying. I could only pray that Mary Beth had found someplace for her and the children to hide.
Our captor looked through the twisted metal and rock that used to be the front door, then at us. At me. Carefully considering me—wisely so. Then he stepped to the side of the truck, deliberately watching the first responders gathering outside, and retrieved from the bed a linen bag, tossing it to the shaken man.
“You,” he called, as Corbin stared at the sack on the ground beside him. “Start with him,” he added, nodding toward me. Corbin reached into the bag only to pull out more of the heavy-duty nylon wrist cuffs. The alpha’s eyes held mine. “On the ground, Eddie,” he said with a bit of sarcasm.
I wrestled for a moment with whether to comply. Think, soldier. Only, I knew if I assumed that position, I would immediately lose whatever control of the situation I might have had, no matter how small or perceived. And, yet, I quickly contemplated what would happen if I didn’t comply. If I didn’t accede to his request.
When I looked back up, I could see it in his eyes. The daring. The bravado. The sheer determination to see this, whatever this was—through. When I glanced around, I realized AJ had once again disappeared. I drew in a deep breath before exhaling noisily, expressing my frustration. Then finally, resolvedly, I lay on the floor, and put my hands behind my back.
“Make sure they’re tight,” he instructed, as Corbin secured my wrists.
“Where’s your buddy?” I queried of the gunman, as the cook cuffed me. I resisted the restraints, holding my arms a couple of inches apart in hopes of working my way out of them unnoticed if and when the opportunity presented itself. “There are wounded in here,” I pointed out unnecessarily. “If somebody doesn’t tend to them soon, they’ll die.”
“We all die at some point,” the alpha replied flatly before nodding toward those huddled nearby. Those who lay perfectly still, having complied with the gunman’s first orders or merely frozen with fright. Promptly, he ordered Corbin to handcuff them as well.
“Good, I’d hate to be the only one,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath.
Suddenly, someone screamed “no,” over and over again, the sound drawing nearer, mixed with sobs and beseeching to be let go. AJ reappeared from around the corner, dragging a young woman with him. Mid-twenties, maybe. Pretty. Face wet with tears. Only, he didn’t just sit the woman down with the others; AJ held her tightly by the arm, refusing to release her. Her cries and her pleas continued until she was bawling profusely. AJ smiled, seemingly amused.
“Hey! Why don’t you leave her alone?” Hell, that sounded almost like my voice.
AJ looked in my direction. “What did you say?” He let go of the young woman, who quickly crawled into the corner, whimpering.
Another man leaning against the bar wall chimed in. “He said, ‘why don’t you leave her alone?’”
AJ glared at me, tilting his head, then turned his attention to the cowboy on the concrete a few feet away. “Sure,” he added, with a smirk. “Since you asked nicely,” he added smugly, suddenly pointing the rifle at the cuffed man. “You’ve got some nerve—considering,” AJ continued, just before striking him hard in the temple with the rifle stock, leaving him bloodied and crumpled in a heap on the floor. The boy then raised his rifle, ready to strike the man again.
“AJ!” our alpha hollered to get his attention. “That’s enough,” he ordered. AJ walked nearer to the elder perp, nearer to me. The alpha then spoke in a lower voice. “I need you to focus, okay? We should be hearing from them soon. And we’ve got to be prepared.” He fixed his stare on AJ. “We have to be ready. Understand?” Then, he put his hand on the younger one’s shoulder.
AJ drew a deep sorrowful breath and nodded obediently before exhaling loudly, “Yes, sir.”
I turned my head, watching the dynamic of the two. Listening. The alpha used a commanding tone. And, there was a measure of respect being shown by the younger one. Then, there was the age difference. Could it be?
Cries of pain could be heard throughout the building. AJ stayed beside Corbin as he worked his way through the dozen or so hostages now clustered by the bar. The cook carefully bound the men first, then the women, at the alpha’s direction. I pursed my lips, devising a plan. Strategizing. Okay, what can I say? I was winging it.
As we all lay there handcuffed, I feared we would die merely waiting for help. I contemplated a moment more before brazenly—loudly—maybe stupidly, blurting out, “Corbin, get the first-aid kit,” causing more than one head to turn.
The young cook looked at me, bug-eyed. I shrugged. Someone had to do something, and he was the only one I knew at this point who was familiar with the layout of the restaurant, and just about the only one not in restraints.
“It’s in the kitchen. You know where it is.”
His eyes widened more, if that were possible.
The alpha walked to and stood over me, shouldering his rifle. “You do know how this is gonna go down, right?”
“Yup,” I rolled onto my side and looked up at him. “Just figured it would work in your favor at this point to keep those not dead yet, from, you know, dying.” I could see he was actually considering what I was saying. I rolled back onto my stomach. “But what do I know? I’m just a cook in handcuffs.”
“You’ve got a big mouth.”
“And you’ve got a big gun, so I figure if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”
“It ain’t over yet,” he retorted.
Corbin just stood there, mouth agape, until AJ turned toward him.
“Well, well. Eddie, here, thinks he’s in charge now.” The young gunman laughed. “Maybe we should give him a weapon.” Then, he stepped to my side. “Well, looky here.”
When I felt him remove the knife from my back pocket, I lay my forehead against the cold concrete, gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.
“Seems like our friend Eddie, here, already has one.”
When he didn’t shoot me, I looked back up.
The alpha glared at me. Contemplating.
I had to be careful about what I said and how I said it. “Hey, man,” I whined. “I just want to get out of here, like everyone else.” Not sure they’d entirely bought it, I quickly added, “Look, I didn’t mean anything. I just don’t want to die, okay?”
He furrowed his brow, studying me.
I looked away, hoping I hadn’t blown it.
After many moments, suddenly, the alpha spoke. “You’ve got three minutes, or I kill one of them.” I turned in time to see him move the gun from Corbin’s head to the woman he had just bound; one who looked as frightened as he did. “Come back with anything other than the first-aid kit,
and well—you know.”
Corbin swallowed hard but didn’t move, like his legs were stuck deep in mud.
“Corbin!” I exclaimed.
Startled, the boy broke from his stupor, scurrying from the room. I lay my head down, broken pieces of wood and brick and glass pressing against my cheek. AJ shoved a large man down next to me, and he fell face forward with a plop, bloodying his nose. In obvious pain, he snorted and sputtered, blowing out blood and snot, probably feeling as pathetic as he looked.
When he glanced my way, though only for a brief moment, I saw confusion and fear. And, in less than a second, I knew I wouldn’t be counting on him when I eventually attempted our little coup.
Then, as AJ set down, roughly I might add, a woman and her blubbering teenage daughter, our alpha spoke again, motioning with his rifle. “AJ, go with the kid. Secure the kitchen.” Compliantly, the other turned and walked backward, his eyes watching for anyone hiding that might attempt to disarm him.
The kitchen.
And there I lay, squirming like a helpless tuna on deck, just before it’s spiked in the brain, trying to wriggle free. Damn it. Corbin did a better job than I had hoped. I looked around nervously.
Secure the kitchen.
There would be no distractions this time. I dropped my chin to the concrete floor, growling in frustration, even whining for a brief moment before exhaling loudly, completely discouraged. Then, slowly, methodically, I measured my breathing as I closed my eyes. Just before contemplating my circumstances, just before whispering, “God, please protect them, since I can’t.”
Finally, resolvedly, I drew in a deep breath and turned my head. The young dark-haired, olive-skinned teen sobbed softly, her mascara streaming haphazardly down her cheeks, mixing with the dust and dirt. Her lips hardly moved as she mouthed her own prayer, pleading over and over not to die.
Slowly, she opened those sweet, innocent, frightened eyes and peered into mine. I held her gaze, trying to reassure her with my own. Her sobbing slowed, and I nodded slightly, forcing a small smile. She sniffled and drew a deep breath, barely whispering. Softly. Almost inaudibly. Yet, through the music and the crying and the sirens, I heard the words.
The Ex Page 9
