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“This is Dave McIntyre, Chief in Sweetstown.”
“Hi Daisy.” He smiles softly. “We’ve spoken on the phone a few times.”
“Yes. Yes. I remember. Hi.”
“I know protocol says to do this now, but can you give us a couple of minutes, Dave?”
Chief McIntyre studies Vince for a quick moment, then nods and walks away. The medics are still standing close to me and I wince as the cold compresses sting my cuts.
“Daisy, I’ll tell him to come back tomorrow, okay? We don’t have to do this now.”
“It’s okay. I want to-”
“No. You don’t. I see it on your face.”
“Vince! Stop.”
He’s standing in front of me, and hasn’t stopped touching me since he found me. Holding my hand, his hand on my leg, switching hands to turn and speak to someone on the other side of me. I know what he’s doing. He’s spiraling now as fast as I was an hour ago.
“I know what you’re going through right now. But you’re not back there. Please. Let me do what I’m supposed to do right now and then we can go home.”
“Hunter!”
We both turn toward someone calling his name and see Cash waving him over.
“Go. This is your scene. I’m fine here.” My hands shake as I tell him to go, but he needs to work.
“I’ll wrap it up quickly.” He kisses me and jogs over to Cash. The medic is still tending to my arms. There are three deep red scratches on my forearm from where the maniac gang member grabbed me. I fought like hell to break free and when I did, he took my skin with him.
All I remember is my dad always saying,‘you fight with everything you have. Don’t ever let them move you to a different location.’
So I fought. That’s when he grabbed my shirt and ripped it up, swinging me to the ground. When I screamed, he smacked me across the face, splitting my lip open.
My yelling, the shots fired, the cars racing up and down the street, it all brought attention to this quiet neighborhood that they thought they could overrun.
“Hey! You can’t be here-”
Bang.
The medic bandaging my arm slumps over my lap on the stretcher. I feel warmth covering me immediately and a sharp twinge of pain, but nothing around me is registering in my mind.
Bang.
Another shot goes off and my head swims. I feel like I’m hearing from underwater. Everything is garbled. I look ahead at the crowd in front of me and there are people dropping to the ground all over.
Bang, Bang.
I look to my left as a man wearing all black walks by me, arm outstretched, firing into the crowd. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion because nothing is making sense. The medic is on top of me, lifeless, pinning me down, and there’s blood everywhere. I attempt to slide off the stretcher to the right, but my left arm isn’t working and fails to push the medic away.
More shots. More yelling. And then the gunman falls to his knees and lands face first on the pavement. A wave of officers run towards him.
“Officer down! Officer down!”
“Help me.” I croak out. “Help me!” A scream leaves my lungs at a pitch that I didn’t know existed. I’m suddenly frantic and trying to scramble away from all of this mayhem.
I fall from the stretcher and stumble forward, searching for Vince.
“O’Brien’s been hit!” Hearing his voice, I continue forward. “Fuck me! Cash! You better not fucking die on me right now!”
