And that changed everything.
It was a thunderous voice, slightly ragged, but resounding with confidence and conviction that I’ve only heard emanate from one person. My husband.
“Me first!” roared Aaron. “Kill me first!”
The crowd all stopped. Hushed itself. They slowly opened their ranks to let him take center stage. He had Sierra in his arms. Knees buckling as he walked, he’d expended his last breath to walk up the hillside.
“Me…not her,” he said one last time.
He knew what he was doing—the locals reacted instantly.
“Aaron Cooper,” said the woman with the forearm tattoos, as if his name were holy.
“It is him,” said someone else with equal awe. “It is Aaron.”
They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. I couldn’t either. Whatever it was. Him. Their savior. He stood in the middle, commanding all their attention, all their respect.
“This is my wife,” he said. “Her name is Miranda. Today she faced a monster. And that monster…that monster is standing right next to her.”
“Quiet!” shouted Clay. Then he addressed the crowd. “You can’t trust him!”
“Clay and his cronies rammed us off the road,” continued Aaron, pointing at Clay. “Then he tried to kill her. Then, when he knew he couldn’t cover any of it up, he had Jed try to kill all of us.”
“This man is a liar!” said Clay, pointing his finger back at my husband.
“This man is Aaron Cooper!” said a woman from the back.
She had a small child with her. She nodded toward Aaron like he was her favorite brother. “He’s defending my home and my family.” Then she turned to Clay. “I’d trust him over you.” Then she nodded to Jed to add, “Over both of you!”
“So would I,” said another local.
“So would I,” said another.
“Aaron Cooper’s been helping us for almost a year,” said the guy in the cowboy hat. “I’d trust him with the life of my newborn.”
The workers and residents had taken his side, our side, which felt amazing, truly.
I finally spoke up. “I can tell you what this man did. I can tell you every detail.”
Clay had reached his threshold. With the flames of hell whipping around behind him, he aimed his rifle directly at my chest and shouted his war cry, “Liar!”
I saw each split-second elapse individually. I heard each millimeter of his index finger begin to pull that sliver of metal. A flurry of gunshots went off. And I swear I felt each bullet go inside me.