Fleeting Moments (3 page)

I look up to see a gunman watching me. Fear clogs my sobs deep in my throat and I look down at my jeans, trying to steady out my breathing. “Good girl,” he assures me. “Good.”

His eyes scan the crowd again, moving from point to point. The blaring lights of the stadium keep us all well-lit, allowing very little movement. Hunter leans in and whispers, “We’re about five seats from the aisle. If we shuffle across, I think we can make a play to get into the building behind us.” He nods towards the red brick building right behind us that right now has a gunman walking past it. The stairs in the middle lead right up into it, so it’s most likely a way out or perhaps an entry into the corporate area. It’s only a small field, so I’m praying they lead out. “If we can slowly move towards them, I think I can get you out.”

I glance at the stairs; they seem so far away. The only thing we have working in our favor is that there is no one else sitting on the seats leading into the aisle, thank god—there are about six other people sitting on the other side of me, clutching each other like Hunter and I are. The stadium is only about half full, if that. I still don’t know if we can do that without being seen.

“Even if we get right to the aisle, how are we going to get through that door when the gunmen are walking past it all the time?” I ask.

“We wait for a distraction. There’ll be one—you can guarantee that.”

I don’t ask how he knows.

“Just trust me. I won’t let you get hurt,” he murmurs.

I nod.

“We’re going to slowly, very slowly, move seats little by little. You just keep hanging onto me, and we’ll move when we get the chance.”

I don’t answer; I just nod. Tears have soaked his shirt now and my heart is breaking little by little. Maybe I’m just bleeding from stress? I’ve tried so hard for this baby. I can’t lose it.
I can’t.
My body trembles in Hunter’s arms and I try, I really do try to stop the trembling, but I have little control over it.

“We’re going to get you out. Do you hear me?”

“It hurts,” I whimper.

“I know.”

He moves us a little, maybe two or three centimeters to the left. It isn’t much. He’s taking a big risk. If they’ve been paying any attention at all, they’ll notice we’ve moved. Right now, I’ll take that risk. I need a doctor. It might be the only way to save my baby.

“Hunter?” I croak.

“Yeah, Lucy?”

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“You’re lying.” I don’t know why I say that; probably because it’s the truth. He’s here for a reason—I just don’t know what that reason is. He’s clearly not a baseball fan, and he’s way too calm. Then there are the messages on his phone.

He makes a grunting sound in his chest I can feel radiate through my cheek. “You’re right, I am lying. But it’s classified information, and I can’t share it with you.”

“So you are a cop?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I can’t discuss it with you.”

I tremble again. “Is this . . . a terrorist attack?”

“No. It’s more . . . religious.”

A cult then? “A cult?” I whisper.

“I can’t answer anymore. I’m sorry.”

More pain stabs my stomach and I wince.

Hunter shifts us to the left a little bit more. We’re halfway to the next seat and I wince from the plastic digging into my bottom.

“You knew this was going to happen today?” I whimper, clutching my stomach.

“Can’t discuss that with you.”

Of course.

His eyes constantly scan the crowd, and every few minutes he moves us.

It takes easily another hour to get next to the aisle. The gunmen don’t seem to notice; I guess when you’re watching so many people, you’re highly unlikely to notice the exact seating position of them all. The people sitting beside us have been watching us, and smartly, moved as we did.

“We’re going to have to move to that door fast, and there is a solid chance they’ll see and shoot. We’re going to have to run. Can you do that?”

The pain in my stomach is intense now, throbbing with every move I make. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, but if getting over there means there’s a chance of saving my baby, I’ll do it.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“All right, Lucy. When the time is right, I’m going to squeeze your shoulder. I need you to move quickly and quietly. Can you do that, too?”

I nod. He focuses on the men moving around, some still talking on cell phones.

It’s so quiet, until it isn’t. Chaos breaks out when a group of men about two sections away from us stand up. There are about twenty of them. They move quickly, rapidly, dropping to their knees and crawling, using the flimsy plastic seats to protect them. It seems they have the same idea as us, only they’re being overly bold about it.

Gunshots ring out.

Horror fills my vision as bullets fly. I open my mouth to scream, but Hunter clamps a hand over my mouth. My vision blurs as the most horrific visions of my life play out in front of me. The gunmen don’t hesitate—they just shoot. Wildly. Carelessly. Women and children scream again, and the gunshots increase.

“We have to move,” Hunter whispers frantically in my ear. “Now.”

He pulls me, and like a thief in the night we start towards the door. He practically launches me up and my feet barely touch the ground as he runs. I move as quickly as I can, never having felt so terrified in my entire life. I wait for the gunshot, the one that’ll rip through my body and end me. My skin prickles, my body throbs with fear, and everything feels like jelly. Hunter reaches the door. His hand jerks out, twists the handle but it doesn’t open.

Locked. It must be locked
.

I start to panic.

Gunshots keep ringing out.

He reaches around into his jeans, pulls out a gun, and shoots the lock. My eyes widen, my knees wobble, and I can’t think. Why does he have a gun? A shot rings out right beside my head, and I scream. Hunter launches me up and over his shoulder, running into the open door. The gunshots keep coming.

It’s dark back here. All the lights are out, so wherever this leads isn’t being used today, but I can hear the commotion outside, the screaming, the gunfire, all of it. I make a strangled, pained sound in my throat and clutch Hunter as he runs—I don’t know where he’s going, or how he plans on getting out, but he just keeps moving.

Gunshots ring out, flying right past our heads.

“Fuck!” he curses, putting me down. “Can you run? We need to move faster.”

I nod.

Terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt before lodges in my throat and I take the hand Hunter offers, forcing my legs to keep up as we start running. Hunter swings me around to his left and turns, firing into the darkness. The sound hurts my ears, it’s so loud.

“Why have you got a gun?” I yell frantically.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just trust me,” he growls, pulling me harder and faster, while turning and firing shots behind us. I’m too afraid to turn back and look.

We reach a door and he aims the gun, shooting the lock twice. It pops open and he kicks it open. Gunshots keep flying, and I hear people running quickly behind us. I realize it’s the people who were sitting closest to us. They must have taken the risk and followed us. Commotion can be heard above still, and I could swear I can see figures moving around us in the darkness.

“Come on,” Hunter barks, pulling me down.

It’s dark.

I can’t see anything.

He withdraws a phone from his pocket, turning on the flashlight, and aims it in front of us. We run. The two people following us are closer now, but Hunter doesn’t wait for them. We reach another door and Hunter stops at it, turning and aiming his flashlight at the two people.

The next moment happens so quickly. A bullet rings out and takes the man down, ripping through his chest with such force that blood explodes outwards. The second takes the woman down in the exact same way.

Hunter aims.

He fires.

The two men who just killed those innocent people drop to the ground. My knees give way and I scream. Hunter catches me, one arm around my waist, and hauls me back up. I fight. I claw and scratch, shoving him out of the way.

“Let me go,” I scream. “Let me go. No. No.”

“Lucy.”

“Let me go!”

“Look at me,” he roars and I flinch, taking a trembling step backwards and jerking my arm to my chest. My eyes find his, only barely in the darkness. “You’re okay. You’re going to get out of here. I’m going to get you out. Do you understand me?”

“They just, they k-k-k-k-killed those p-p-p-people and then you . . .”

“Hey,” he says, stepping up close, his eyes flicking to the door before focusing back on me. “I didn’t have much choice. Better I get rid of them than allow them to hurt you. Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know you a-a-a-and . . .”

“Lucy, do you trust me?”

I swallow my sob and nod.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

“I don’t want to die,” I squeak, my entire body trembling.

“You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

He puts an arm around my waist again, and he’s so big, so strong, he just seems to hold me against him with absolutely no effort on his part. He feels comforting. He feels safe. “One foot after another, Lucy honey,” he murmurs.

One foot after another.

Just one foot after another.

H
unter holds me up. He just hangs onto me as we move through the dark halls beneath the stadium. The sounds behind us eventually fade out, and we find ourselves at another entrance. It’s a simple door, just the same as the one we entered in. I don’t know what this space back here is, or where we’ve ended up. Lights aren’t exactly an option. I can only pray this door takes us out of this nightmare.

Hunter looks behind him, then he uses his gun to shoot the door open. It flings wide and cool, fresh air comes rushing in, tickling my face. I gasp and we step out into a small fenced area. Equipment sheds line one side of the fence and the back of the stadium can be seen towering over us. The fence is tall, barbed, and locked. Lights can be seen flashing to our left. Police.

We’re out.

“Come on,” Hunter murmurs, his eyes frantically scanning the perimeter. “Let’s get out of here.”

He pulls me towards the gate, which is padlocked closed. He rattles it, then twists and looks up at the back of the stadium. “I don’t want to risk firing this gun out here. It’ll cause chaos, and I promised I’d get you out. I swore I would and I’m going to. I’m going to make a call; come over here.”

He pulls me next to one of the equipment sheds and tucks us both in beside it where we can’t be seen from the stadium. The cool metal presses against my back, and I focus on trying to keep my knees from giving out. My body is so full of pain, aches, and fear that I feel as though I’m constantly fighting against it to stay upright.

“I’m out. Got a girl here; she needs a doctor. To your left, in the equipment yard.”

He hangs up and turns to me, surprising me by reaching down and cupping my jaw, tilting my head back, and studying me. “I promised I’d get you out and I never break a promise. You’re going to be okay, Lucy girl.”

Lucy girl.

Tears run down my cheeks, and he swipes them away with his thumb. This stranger. This man. This person who swooped into my life and risked everything to take care of me. I don’t know a single thing about him except for the fact that he stood by me in my moment of need, holding me up, both hands keeping me afloat. I owe him more than my life. I owe him everything.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my body going weak.

Relief has a funny way of doing that to you. It has its very own way of stripping you down, taking away everything you’ve been holding onto and just tossing it aside, leaving you with a nothingness that spreads deep, so deep your body just slumps, everything disappearing and leaving you empty.

Blissfully empty.

The gate rattles, and Hunter steps out and looks over, then he gently wraps an arm around me and pulls me out. There are seven men standing near the gate, two in suits, three police officers, and two EMT officers. Hunter leads me over and the gate is quickly opened with a pair of cutters. The two men in suits make eye contact with Hunter, and he nods.

“Ma’am, my name is Byron and this is my partner, Joel. We’re going to have a look at you now, is that okay?” a handsome, young EMT officer says, taking me from Hunter’s arms.

I don’t want to be taken from his arms, and my tiny hand clutches his big one, squeezing. Beautiful silver eyes find mine, and he smiles. “You’re okay now, Lucy girl. Let them help you.”

“But—”

He steps forward, cupping my jaw. “Let them help. Go home. Be safe.”

I open my mouth to answer, but he turns and looks at the two men in suits. “I’m going back in.”

What?

What did he say?

“The situation is spiraling out of control,” a man with dark hair and equally as dark eyes says, his voice low. “The plan still remains. Get what we need. Get out.”

Hunter nods.

“What?” I cry, struggling as Byron tries to get me to go with him. “You’re going back in?”

Hunter studies me. “It’s okay. Let Byron help you.”

“No,” I shriek. “Please. You can’t go back in there. You can’t. You’ll die and . . . no,” I whimper, my legs turning to jelly again.

Hunter makes eye contact with someone in the crowd around us. I keep struggling.

He steps forward, running the back of his hand over my cheek so softly my body craves more. I just want to be back in his arms, where it was warm and safe. I’m so afraid. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Lucy girl. Take care of yourself and stay just the way you are.”

I open my mouth to protest but something stabs into my arm and my body goes warm.

Then my world goes dark.

~*~*~*~

“L
ucy, sweetheart, wake up.”

Hunter?

“Come on, please wake up.”

My eyes flutter open, and I’m momentarily blinded by a bright light. A few seconds later it goes out and I can focus on the man leaning over me, his eyes red and glassy, his hair disheveled. Gerard. Not Hunter. My chest tightens, and my heart pounds heavily against my ribcage. Where’s Hunter? Where is he? Is he alive? Is he dead? Oh god. What happened to him?