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That Ialwayschoose to put those who matter most to mefirst.
While he willneverbe on the growing list of people I love, he’s at least no longer on the ones I hate.
And that’s sayin’ something.
Hustling off to the left side allows me to press my back against the nearby wall as I watch which direction, he’s jogging off to. Rather than immediately follow, I wait for a small group that’s exiting and use them for cover. Dropping down to a low crouch behind the last shoppers provides me with the camouflage I need to slip out unseen. Cold winter air ruthlessly slaps me in the face, doing its best to convince me to go back to where it’s warm, to avoid pushing onward, yet the sting doesn’t register.
Nor does being damn near jammed in the eyes by the branches of the outdoor decorative Christmas trees.
The only thing that matters right now is rescuing that screaming, squirming, scared little boy.
And good on him for making so much noise.
Shame on everyone fucking else for just assuming they know why.
Arriving at the very back of the old wooden sleigh display, I position myself to use it for the necessary coverage caused by the kidnapper repeatedly glancing over his shoulder to ensure that he’s no longer being followed.
But he is.
Having him believe he’s not is what givesmethe upper hand.
The control.
I intensely continue to track his movements noting the way his steps are starting to sag as if hauling around the weight of the kid is beginning to wear on him. Despite the darkness that would be easier for him to fade off into, the individual gradually wanders back towards the well-lit building. Avoids areas directly in a camera’s view. Lingers around the collection of nutcrackers when he thinks security is creeping by. The fact that he doesn’t know the difference between a mall security vehicle and a random white sedan indicates this guy isn’t a professional.
This very well may be his first job.
And his last.
The kidnapper impatiently begins to pace along the edge of curb, grumbling at the crying child, prompting me to take advantage of his stationary location by pulling out my holstered pistol and aiming it at the back of his lower left calf.
Delivering one shot to the area will be enough to wound him without risking substantial blood loss.
Afterall, I don’t need him bleeding out.
That would mean he wouldn’t be able to give me the answers I need to prevent his team – or whoever it is he’s working for – from doing this again.
And right underneath rescuing the kid, lies making sure this shit doesn’t happen to any others.
All of a sudden, a black Mercedes van creeps up, ceasing his nervous patrolling, which results in me instantly changing tactics.
Retraining my weapon.
Preparing to disarm two threats back-to-back versus just the one.
The attacker takes a single step closer to the vehicle wordlessly informing me it’s how he plans to escape, a declaration that guides my finger to squeeze the trigger twice in rapid succession. Startled by the sounds as much as the back end of the van collapsing to one side, the kidnapper thoughtlessly drops the kid at the same time he whips around to see where the shots came from. I quickly fire a round into his tibia, stand to pump two more into the front tire on the same side, and then unleash another two into the shoulder blade and back leg of the getaway driver who attempts to flee. In spite of seeing him fall forward face first, I continue to oscillate my weapon between the pair of men, prepared to further disarm them if necessary.
Screams from surrounding shoppers in the parking lot aren’t any more surprising than the current ringing in my ears due to my lack of protection, yet I know what I have to do.
Ihave tokeep my volume lower than I think it is.
Ihave tokeep my tone even.
Calm.
Clear of any animosity because I need the little guy who can’t be much older than my girls to trust me.
That realization threatens to have me not only shifting to a harsher timbre but manically unloading my magazine’s remains into the individual that’s holding his leg while rolling on the sidewalk back and forth as he howls in agony.
