Page 75 of I'll Be There
“I think she might have figured out what I was doing with that torch,” Micah said.
Get inside!He wanted to yell at her, but feared attracting the shooter’s attention toward her.
Too late. Conner spotted him rising up, sighting.
Liza stepped out, drawn by the catastrophe of her reception tent, now fully engulfed. In fact, as the flames grew, Conner could hardly make her out.
But she was still a clear shot if the shooter sighted her through the smoke.
“Liza!”
Conner’s voice couldn’t penetrate the roar of the fire.
“He could hit her,” Micah said, rising. “I’m going for the roof—”
“No time.” Conner hit his feet, arms waving. “Over here! I’m over here!” He walked out into the clear, beyond the truck. “Right here, buddy.Right here!”
Oh, thank God, it worked. Shooter lowered his weapon. Turned to search for the voice.
“Run, Micah!”
Micah scooted around the truck and took off.
The shooter sighted Conner, and in one slick, cool moment, turned his weapon on him. The light glinted off it, and Conner stood in the wide open, just breathing.Please, Liza,don’t watch. He couldn’t even look at her, needing,prayingfor the shooter’s aim to not wander away.
“I know you want me. It’s easy. I’m right here.” He kept waving his arms.
Liza screamed.
The shooter lowered his weapon.
No!I’m sorry, Liza.“Shootme!”
The shot cracked the air, ripping through Conner’s bones even as he fell to his knees, his legs water. His hands crunched into the pavement, and the force of the impact blew him over, practically onto his face.
But he felt—nothing.
No searing pain. No hint that the shooter had—Oh no, oh, please!Conner shot up, found his feet. “Liza!”
She stood on the metal stairway, her hands cupped over her mouth.
What—?
He turned again to the roof, to where—
Gone. The shooter had vanished.
Micah hit the roof. “He’s down! Shooter’s down!”
Conner couldn’t move. He watched as Micah ran over, bent, as if checking the shooter’s pulse, then kicked the weapon away. “He’s dead! Kill shot, to the head.”
Micah stood there, at the edge of the roof, hands on his hips, the perfect target, and for a second, Conner hit his feet.Get down!
But...nothing. No sniper shot cracking the air, his best friend tumbling from the roof.
Just seagulls, flying overhead, calling out warning.
Someone, somewhere—
