THE BULLET STRIKES me in the upper chest, on the right side, just under my collarbone and close to my shoulder. I feel the thump when it hits. The shot staggers me, but it doesn’t stop me. I fly at her like an out-of-control train jumping off the tracks. My left hand reaches for the gun but misses, and so I lower my left shoulder and slam into her.
She and I go down in a pile of limbs and grunts. The gun goes flying, skidding over the loose rock and coming to a stop near the cliff’s edge.
Ava—acting quick—jumps on Isabella and tries to pin her. Her arms are still cuffed behind her back, but she uses her weight and her legs to keep the woman down.
I sit up and a wave of dizziness crashes into me. The front and back of my shirt are wet with blood from where the bullet went in and where it punched its way out.
Isabella thrashes beneath Ava. She grabs Ava’s braid and yanks her off. Then she scrambles toward the gun. Ava jumps after her, throwing her weight on her again, but she’s severely disadvantaged without her arms.
I rise to my feet—moving in slow motion. I take one step toward the fighting women but stop myself. I turn and head to the vehicle. I use my left hand to open the door. I reach across the seat to retrieve my gun. When I grab it and rise back out of the car, a lightning bolt of pain explodes from the wound.
I raise my gun with my left arm, but I can’t hold it steady. I’ve always been useless shooting with my left hand, and even with the bullet hole near my right shoulder, I switch the gun to my dominant right hand. I place my left hand underneath my right, helping to lift the arm.
Ava and Isabella are in the danger zone now, where the ground begins to slope. Isabella strains to reach the gun with Ava on top of her. Isabella’s fingers are inches away.
I try to keep the sight steady on Isabella’s head, but it veers wildly.
Ava tries to pin Isabella’s arms with her knees, but Isabella heaves beneath her, giving herself just enough space to move.
She grabs the gun and swings it upward. She aims it at Ava’s face.
I squeeze the trigger.
Blood sprays from Isabella’s face, and her arm goes limp.
I let out a breath of relief, but then realize that both women, tangled together, have begun to slide over the edge. I force myself to my feet and stumble forward. Ava scrambles to get off of Isabella’s body, but she’s sliding across the sandy grade.
I lunge forward and throw my left hand out. I get a grip on the collar of Ava’s shirt just as Isabella’s body slides out from under her and disappears over the edge.
I hear her body crash into the brush below.