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Elle smiled at him. “Bryce Conrad is a big draw.”
“Yeah.” He winked at her. “I think we’re escaping just in time.”
She returned his mischievous smile, but her attention was returned to Charlie, who was trying to climb out of his stroller.
“No, Charlie. No, you can’t get out.”
He resisted her attempts to push him back down into the seat and was having no part of her explanation as to why he had to remain confined. Eventually, she won the battle and straightened up, looking with hope toward the exit and gauging how much longer she could hold out before Charlie had a full-blown tantrum.
“Excuse me.”
The irritated mumble came from Elle’s other side as someone going in the opposite direction bumped into her. She turned to respond, but he had already moved past. He stood out from everyone else because he was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. An executive sort, she thought.
That was Elle’s last thought before the bang.
It was abrupt and loud.
At first, she thought it was a sound effect coming from one of the thrill rides. When it was repeated, she thought perhaps it was fireworks going off. But they weren’t scheduled to start until after the concert.
Confused, she turned to the older man with whom she’d been talking. His hand was at his throat. Blood was spouting from between his fingers. A geyser of it splashed onto Elle.
He staggered, falling hard against her and causing her to reel backward. She caught the push bar of the stroller with her left hand and put out her right to try to break her fall. But on impact with the blacktop, her elbow gave way. Her landing was so jarring, she bit her tongue and tasted blood. She lost her left-handed grip on the stroller.
The older man’s momentum caused him to fall against the stroller and propel it forward. It began to roll, knocking into people who were now madly scattering.
Someone shouted, “Shooter, shooter.”
It took only a split second for Elle to register that the unthinkable was actually happening. “Charlie!”
She lunged forward, reaching out in a frantic effort to get a handhold on any part of the stroller, but it was already beyond her reach and rolling farther away from her. Between her and it was the older man, who had fallen facedown and was now still, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
In a remote area of her mind that was still functioning, Elle realized that he was dead. But without thinking, without an instant of hesitancy, she crawled over his prone form, her hands and sneakers slipping on his blood. She couldn’t gain purchase. Something was wrong with her right arm.
The stroller was being buffeted by the stampede of terrified people. The distance between it and Elle was widening, and she couldn’t get to it, to Charlie, to her baby.
Directly in front of her, a man fell, his leg shot out from under him. He bellowed in pain as he went down. Her screams couldn’t be differentiated from those of others who were equally panicked and mortally afraid. But she could distinguish those of her child. He was wailing.
“Charlie, I’m coming!Mommy’s coming!Char-lie!”
A fleeing man wearing a ball cap ran into the stroller, striking the side of it with his knees.
Elle watched in helpless terror as the stroller tipped onto two wheels.
The executive type who’d bumped into her lurched into Elle’s peripheral vision, reached out for the stroller, and managed to get a grasp on the bar.
But inertia sent the carriage onto its side and took the man down with it.
He fell atop it.
Elle screamed hysterically.
She heard the raw, primal screams of others. The ground vibrated with the tramping of hundreds of feet.
For Elle Portman, pandemonium turned into a horror movie played out in slow motion.
Which was why she was cursed afterward with remembering everything with such stark and brutal clarity.
Chapter 2
