ahead and marched straight for me, raising a shotgun to his shoulder. Putting my weight on my good leg, I swung the cane up, knocking the barrel of the gun into the air. Its boom rattled my teeth. The momentum of the swing sent me crashing forward, landing against his chest and jarring the cane out of my hand.
Bullets whizzed overhead as we moved around in a bizarre tango, struggling over the shotgun. Murdock had more cops shooting as. My grip gave way as a bullet ripped through my left shoulder, sending fiery pain down the length of my arm. The impact shoved me backward, instincts taking over as I tried to catch myself with my useless leg. The knee succumbed to my weight before I realized what happened.
Murdock cackled inside my head as I sprawled on the lawn in extreme misery. My body called it quits: moving was no longer an option. Warmth spread from my shoulder to my torso and neck. The cop I had struggled with repositioned the shotgun in his hands and pointed it at my face.
The cane cracked across the top of his skull, making a sickening sound like a watermelon being dropped. His unconscious body crumpled down, landing in a bizarre sitting position, revealing Sammy standing behind him. She held the cane in both hands the same way a logger holds an axe.
I'd never been so happy and terrified to see someone in my entire life.
"Sammy, no! You have to get out of here!"
"I was going to, but I just couldn't let you do this alone." Her eyes fell on my bloody shoulder. "Oh my God, are you shot?"
"Sammy, run!"
Not fair. You shouldn't have people helping you. Let's relieve her of duty.
Her body stiffened.
I'll be making sure she knows exactly what's happening to her. That's a privilege I usually save for those I truly hate, but I'll make an exception for you.
With a harsh kick, she knocked the body of the cop forward onto his face. Bending down, she picked up the shotgun and cocked a shell out of it.
I tried to push myself up, but my body couldn't do it. I'd taken too much damage to be able to stand, let alone wrestle the gun away from her.
Lowering the butt, Sammy placed the end of the barrel under her chin. Her index finger rested against the trigger. A tear, forming in the corner of her glistening eye, spilled down her cheek.
Murdock, stop! Smith is here!
Chapter 23
The wounded and deceased were the only civilians who still remained in the field surrounding the monument. Most of the president's guard detail were dead. The remaining few stood in a circle around President Thomas, their guns pointed at him to prevent his escape.
Wailing cries of pain permeated the air.
Dozens of bodies in blue police uniforms were scattered across the lawn. It looked like an entire department had been wiped out. About seventy-five yards from the stage stood a man, all alone, wearing a brown sweatshirt and baseball cap. He didn't appear to have moved the entire time. I knew right away he was Murdock.
More cops arrived every second, encircling the entire area. They stopped trying to get closer to the president, because every one that did ended up shooting himself or turning on the other officers. Now they hid behind the open doors of their patrol cars, shouting at us over loud speakers, their confusion apparent in their voices.
Sammy stood in front of me, as motionless as a statue.
You're lying.
He's here. You didn't escape the cemetery: he let you leave. Smith's been tracking you ever since, waiting for you to do exactly what you're doing now. The moment you assassinate the president he's going to take you out.
The man in the sweatshirt turned around, looking in every direction.
Where?
Let her go and I'll tell you.
Murdock started walking to where we were. Behind him I could see the four remaining Secret Service agents grab one of Thomas' limbs each and carry him to us. He struggled against them, yelling their names in an attempt to get through Murdock's control. It didn't work.
Tell me now or I kill poor little
Bullets whizzed overhead as we moved around in a bizarre tango, struggling over the shotgun. Murdock had more cops shooting as. My grip gave way as a bullet ripped through my left shoulder, sending fiery pain down the length of my arm. The impact shoved me backward, instincts taking over as I tried to catch myself with my useless leg. The knee succumbed to my weight before I realized what happened.
Murdock cackled inside my head as I sprawled on the lawn in extreme misery. My body called it quits: moving was no longer an option. Warmth spread from my shoulder to my torso and neck. The cop I had struggled with repositioned the shotgun in his hands and pointed it at my face.
The cane cracked across the top of his skull, making a sickening sound like a watermelon being dropped. His unconscious body crumpled down, landing in a bizarre sitting position, revealing Sammy standing behind him. She held the cane in both hands the same way a logger holds an axe.
I'd never been so happy and terrified to see someone in my entire life.
"Sammy, no! You have to get out of here!"
"I was going to, but I just couldn't let you do this alone." Her eyes fell on my bloody shoulder. "Oh my God, are you shot?"
"Sammy, run!"
Not fair. You shouldn't have people helping you. Let's relieve her of duty.
Her body stiffened.
I'll be making sure she knows exactly what's happening to her. That's a privilege I usually save for those I truly hate, but I'll make an exception for you.
With a harsh kick, she knocked the body of the cop forward onto his face. Bending down, she picked up the shotgun and cocked a shell out of it.
I tried to push myself up, but my body couldn't do it. I'd taken too much damage to be able to stand, let alone wrestle the gun away from her.
Lowering the butt, Sammy placed the end of the barrel under her chin. Her index finger rested against the trigger. A tear, forming in the corner of her glistening eye, spilled down her cheek.
Murdock, stop! Smith is here!
Chapter 23
The wounded and deceased were the only civilians who still remained in the field surrounding the monument. Most of the president's guard detail were dead. The remaining few stood in a circle around President Thomas, their guns pointed at him to prevent his escape.
Wailing cries of pain permeated the air.
Dozens of bodies in blue police uniforms were scattered across the lawn. It looked like an entire department had been wiped out. About seventy-five yards from the stage stood a man, all alone, wearing a brown sweatshirt and baseball cap. He didn't appear to have moved the entire time. I knew right away he was Murdock.
More cops arrived every second, encircling the entire area. They stopped trying to get closer to the president, because every one that did ended up shooting himself or turning on the other officers. Now they hid behind the open doors of their patrol cars, shouting at us over loud speakers, their confusion apparent in their voices.
Sammy stood in front of me, as motionless as a statue.
You're lying.
He's here. You didn't escape the cemetery: he let you leave. Smith's been tracking you ever since, waiting for you to do exactly what you're doing now. The moment you assassinate the president he's going to take you out.
The man in the sweatshirt turned around, looking in every direction.
Where?
Let her go and I'll tell you.
Murdock started walking to where we were. Behind him I could see the four remaining Secret Service agents grab one of Thomas' limbs each and carry him to us. He struggled against them, yelling their names in an attempt to get through Murdock's control. It didn't work.
Tell me now or I kill poor little
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