Page 103 of Fragile Lives

He pulls a gun out. I don’t have time to take him down, nor do I have a weapon, so I lunge, praying to God and everyone who will listen that they’ll help me to get to her on time. Coffee splashing everywhere as the cups hit the asphalt.

“Leila, down!” I yell, hoping she’ll understand.

She doesn’t see him, but he sees her. His gun is trained on her.

Her scared eyes are wide open. She keeps listening to whatever is being said on the other side of the line. She doesn’t understand what’s happening around her but looks around in shock and fear when she sees me going crazy.

“Leila, duck down!” I yell again. “The gun!”

I’m ten feet away.

He fires. I jump. Another shot. The world stops. The sound of another gun shot.

I knock her down to the ground, covering her with my heavy body. Too heavy. I try to move and see where the attacker is, and it takes everything I have to move a bit to the side, so I don’t squash her with my weight while still covering her with my body in case he tries again.

My lungs burn. The taste of metal plagues my mouth. It’s hard to breathe. There’s a wheezing sound. Darkness overcomes…

I succumb to the tiredness and close my eyes, praying she is all right.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

LEILA

He falls to the ground.

In front of me.

I can’t breathe.

But I have no wounds. No nothing. And I still can’t breathe.

I look at Stephan, his body still half on top of me. I try to carefully flip him onto his back, and my heart suddenly stops beating when I see blood spreading from under his back. That’s why I can’t breathe. He’s hurt.

He’s hurt!

I get myself together and kneel next to him, pulling his head onto my lap. He opens his heavy eyes.

“Stephan, please, baby. Stay with me,” I whisper to him. “Please.”

“Are—” he coughs blood, “you okay?”

“I’m okay.” I try not to cry. Not now. “You saved me.”

“And he—” He can’t finish the question, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

I nervously look around, only now remembering that the shooter might still be around. I pull my body on top of his, and he tries to push me away. But he has no energy left, so his hands drop quickly, and he loses consciousness. I bring my shaking hand to his nose, hoping to feel him breathing. It’s barely there, but there. I let out a relieved sigh.

Then I go back to my task of finding the shooter, still shielding him with my body. Now that he can’t fight me, I can cover him all I want.

And then I see the shooter. On the ground, and Jake, the local ex-cop and Justin’s brother, pushing the gun out of his hand with his foot. He crouches next to him and presses his fingers to his neck. His face sharpens as he rises to his feet and jogs toward us, pulling his phone out on the way.

“We need an ambulance at the corner of Main Street and Eighth. A civilian has been shot. Two bullet wounds. The suspect is down.” Then he mumbles something else and hangs up.

Stephan coughs again, and more blood spills out. His breathing slows.

Just as mine does.

“How is he?” Jake croaks as he crouches next to me.