Fleeting Moments(6)

I nod.

“We’re going to slowly, very slowly, move seats little by little. You just keep hanging onto me, and we’ll move when we get the chance.”

I don’t answer; I just nod. Tears have soaked his shirt now and my heart is breaking little by little. Maybe I’m just bleeding from stress? I’ve tried so hard for this baby. I can’t lose it. I can’t. My body trembles in Hunter’s arms and I try, I really do try to stop the trembling, but I have little control over it.

“We’re going to get you out. Do you hear me?”

“It hurts,” I whimper.

“I know.”

He moves us a little, maybe two or three centimeters to the left. It isn’t much. He’s taking a big risk. If they’ve been paying any attention at all, they’ll notice we’ve moved. Right now, I’ll take that risk. I need a doctor. It might be the only way to save my baby.

“Hunter?” I croak.

“Yeah, Lucy?”

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“You’re lying.” I don’t know why I say that; probably because it’s the truth. He’s here for a reason—I just don’t know what that reason is. He’s clearly not a baseball fan, and he’s way too calm. Then there are the messages on his phone.

He makes a grunting sound in his chest I can feel radiate through my cheek. “You’re right, I am lying. But it’s classified information, and I can’t share it with you.”

“So you are a cop?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I can’t discuss it with you.”

I tremble again. “Is this . . . a terrorist attack?”

“No. It’s more . . . religious.”

A cult then? “A cult?” I whisper.

“I can’t answer anymore. I’m sorry.”

More pain stabs my stomach and I wince.

Hunter shifts us to the left a little bit more. We’re halfway to the next seat and I wince from the plastic digging into my bottom.

“You knew this was going to happen today?” I whimper, clutching my stomach.

“Can’t discuss that with you.”

Of course.

His eyes constantly scan the crowd, and every few minutes he moves us.

It takes easily another hour to get next to the aisle. The gunmen don’t seem to notice; I guess when you’re watching so many people, you’re highly unlikely to notice the exact seating position of them all. The people sitting beside us have been watching us, and smartly, moved as we did.

“We’re going to have to move to that door fast, and there is a solid chance they’ll see and shoot. We’re going to have to run. Can you do that?”

The pain in my stomach is intense now, throbbing with every move I make. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, but if getting over there means there’s a chance of saving my baby, I’ll do it.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“All right, Lucy. When the time is right, I’m going to squeeze your shoulder. I need you to move quickly and quietly. Can you do that, too?”

I nod. He focuses on the men moving around, some still talking on cell phones.

It’s so quiet, until it isn’t. Chaos breaks out when a group of men about two sections away from us stand up. There are about twenty of them. They move quickly, rapidly, dropping to their knees and crawling, using the flimsy plastic seats to protect them. It seems they have the same idea as us, only they’re being overly bold about it.

Gunshots ring out.

Horror fills my vision as bullets fly. I open my mouth to scream, but Hunter clamps a hand over my mouth. My vision blurs as the most horrific visions of my life play out in front of me. The gunmen don’t hesitate—they just shoot. Wildly. Carelessly. Women and children scream again, and the gunshots increase.

“We have to move,” Hunter whispers frantically in my ear. “Now.”

He pulls me, and like a thief in the night we start towards the door. He practically launches me up and my feet barely touch the ground as he runs. I move as quickly as I can, never having felt so terrified in my entire life. I wait for the gunshot, the one that’ll rip through my body and end me. My skin prickles, my body throbs with fear, and everything feels like jelly. Hunter reaches the door. His hand jerks out, twists the handle but it doesn’t open.

Locked. It must be locked.

I start to panic.

Gunshots keep ringing out.

He reaches around into his jeans, pulls out a gun, and shoots the lock. My eyes widen, my knees wobble, and I can’t think. Why does he have a gun? A shot rings out right beside my head, and I scream. Hunter launches me up and over his shoulder, running into the open door. The gunshots keep coming.

It’s dark back here. All the lights are out, so wherever this leads isn’t being used today, but I can hear the commotion outside, the screaming, the gunfire, all of it. I make a strangled, pained sound in my throat and clutch Hunter as he runs—I don’t know where he’s going, or how he plans on getting out, but he just keeps moving.

Gunshots ring out, flying right past our heads.

“Fuck!” he curses, putting me down. “Can you run? We need to move faster.”

I nod.

Terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt before lodges in my throat and I take the hand Hunter offers, forcing my legs to keep up as we start running. Hunter swings me around to his left and turns, firing into the darkness. The sound hurts my ears, it’s so loud.