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The scene playing out in front of me was complete anarchy. Secret Service agents littered the stage and ground, blood pooling around their bodies. President Thomas crawled on his stomach toward the far side platform. People were being trampled by each other as they tried to escape the carnage. The pops of gunfire continued as more agents and police officers tried to contain the situation, only to turn on each other moments later.
Just as I stepped across Fifteenth Street, the mental tunnel formed with Murdock. I had been counting on this, hoping it would dampen all of the voices clouding my thoughts. It worked, and I could think clearly again. Unfortunately, the raw power of Murdock's mind threatened to smother me.
The cane in my hand wobbled as I tried to repress his booming voice in my head.
You!
Through the thinning sea of people I could see a black limousine barreling through them. Just as it was about to run down a young mother running with a stroller, it swerved away and crashed into a tree. The horn blared as the driver's body struck the steering wheel. The suddenness of our mental connection had loosened his control just long enough for the driver to dodge the woman and her child.
The anger billowing from Murdock made me want to turn around and hobble my ass out of there.
You ruined my fun.
Two men on my right fell to the ground, blood splattering my arm and face, as gunfire barked behind me. Afraid of falling down and not being able to get back up, I pushed my way deeper into the fray. An officer appeared ahead and marched straight for me, raising a shotgun to his shoulder. Putting my weight on my good leg, I swung the cane up, knocking the barrel of the gun into the air. Its boom rattled my teeth. The momentum of the swing sent me crashing forward, landing against his chest and jarring the cane out of my hand.
Bullets whizzed overhead as we moved around in a bizarre tango, struggling over the shotgun. Murdock had more cops shooting at us. My grip gave way as a bullet ripped through my left shoulder, sending fiery pain down the length of my arm. The impact shoved me backward, instincts taking over as I tried to catch myself with my useless leg. The knee succumbed to my weight before I realized what happened.
Murdock cackled inside my head as I sprawled on the lawn in extreme misery. My body called it quits; moving was no longer an option. Warmth spread from my shoulder to my torso and neck. The cop I had struggled with repositioned the shotgun in his hands and pointed it at my face.
The cane cracked across the top of his skull, making a sickening sound like a watermelon being dropped. His unconscious body crumpled down, landing in a bizarre sitting position, revealing Sammy standing behind him. She held the cane in both hands the same way a logger holds an axe.
I'd never been so happy and terrified to see someone in my entire life.
"Sammy, no! You have to get out of here!"
"I was going to, but I just couldn't let you do this alone." Her eyes fell on my bloody shoulder. "Oh my God, are you shot?"
"Sammy, run!"
Not fair. You shouldn't have people helping you. Let's relieve her of duty.
Her body stiffened.
I'll be making sure she knows exactly what's happening to her. That's a privilege I usually save for those I truly hate, but I'll make an exception for you.
With a harsh kick, she knocked the body of the cop forward onto his face. Bending down, she picked up the shotgun and cocked a shell out of it.
I tried to push myself up, but my body couldn't do it. I'd taken too much damage to be able to stand, let alone wrestle the gun away from her.
Lowering the butt, Sammy placed the end of the barrel under her chin. Her index finger rested against the trigger. A tear, forming in the corner of her glistening eye, spilled down her cheek.
Murdock, stop! Smith is here!