Final Call for Mercy

15

EIGHT DAYS LATER 

ANASTASIA
 3:27 PM - WEDNESDAY

Before rounding the corner, I stretched my left arm out in front of me, using it as a shield from the concrete wall of the building. The back of my hand and arm scraped against the wall roughly, a sharp sting taking over my arm. 

I raised the hand that held my gun, pointing it in front of me. His black hair bounced as he ran away, the dark sweater floating behind him like a cloak. He was gaining distance on me. 

"Stop!" I yelled, shooting a bullet off to his side. It hit the windshield of the car on the left side of the road. He halted immediately, a small cloud of dust lifting from his feet at the harsh friction of his feet skirting on the pavement. Slowly, he turned around. I kept my gun pointed at him as he did.

Before I could get another word in, he jerked forward and grabbed the arm of a woman. She screamed as he pulled her in front of him and wrapped an arm around her throat. He drew his gun and pressed it against her temple. The woman stared back at me in fear, her hands held in front of her shakily. 

"Momma!" A little boy screamed. He was about to jump forward before another civilian grabbed him and pulled him back. The little boy cried as he watched his mother.

My fingers tightened around the gun, the conflict before me causing a headache. "Let her go!" I stepped forward but stopped as soon as I saw him pull the safety.

He laughed maniacally, but the look on his eyes was desperate. If I've learned anything, it's that desperation is more dangerous than malice. I had to play my cards right. He couldn't get away.

"I heard," he began, licking his lips before continuing, "that the Bianchi family doesn't kill innocents. So this wonderful lady is going to help me get out of here safely. And if you try and follow us, I will kill her. You wouldn't leave a little boy an orphan, would you?"

I didn't answer. The thoughts scrambled in my mind, clogging any real plan from forming. My hands began shaking from the pain on my body. Faraway, my ears registered the sound of sirens. The cops were getting closer. If they see me out here, it's jail time for sure.

I couldn't count on anyone to help me. Everyone else on my team was occupied at another post. The mission was supposed to be quick. Do your job and get out. If they're out, they're too far to help. 

The woman's sobs distracted me even more. The pure fear in her face kept putting holes in my plan. I didn't want to get her killed, but every option in which I try to save her, the job fails. This job can't fail. 

The wailing of the sirens became louder, as well as the smell of smoke and dust. This area would be dangerous in a matter of minutes. I can't dwell on it any longer. I have to decide now.

I lowered my gun. "I wouldn't," I yelled back. 

Ronald Bring grinned. As if he'd caught me in a mousetrap. The hold on his gun slackened as he began to step back, dragging the woman behind him. The little boy yelled, clawing at every stranger holding him back from getting to his mother.

In the small window of opportunity, I raised my gun again and pulled the trigger. In a matter of seconds, the bullet hit the woman in the stomach. She fell to the floor, clutching her stomach as she rolled on her back. Not one person went to help her, all too shocked and terrified to move. Even her son was gaping at his mother's bleeding body without moving or making a single sound.

Stunned, Ronald stared at the woman, his gun had fallen to the floor from the sheer impact of the woman jerking back. Before he could get it back, I shot his arm. He stumbled back into a car. I ran to him, not wasting any time before whipping him across the face with the gun. He fell to the ground.