image
image
image

Chapter Four

image

While we were tilting chairs over and scrambling for cover, the range officer addressed his shooters. “Marks ready! Fire! Range is hot!”

It wasn’t just the range.

Everything around us was hot. A spray of bullets peppered the ground.

The marks were hot alright, but it wasn’t just the targets in the sporting range. As the paper targets were missed or blown to bits, the plywood squares splintered off, causing a crackling noise.

Meanwhile the multiple pings behind us suggested someone had an elevated position, but he wasn’t a terrific shot.

That wasn’t exactly luck, I decided. That was going to church whenever the doors were open. That was the only explanation.

If Ida Belle hadn’t paused and looked over at us then the first shot would’ve hit the mark. It was too close for comfort. We never would’ve seen the guy coming.

All other shots were a miss, but that was because of return fire.

While the contestants aimed and fired at targets, Ida Belle pivoted and took her first shot. Walter and Carter did the same, apparently aware of the sniper holding his position on the steakhouse roof.

Gomer Hollowman rushed to the porch screaming, “What are you people doing? The targets are down by the bayou! I’ll sue! If you break one glass, I’ll own your cars and homes!”

“You won’t be around to sue if you don’t get back inside!” Gertie yelled, dragging a forty-five from her purse before tossing the bag to me. Locked and loaded, she tilted a card table over and instructed some of the onlookers to stay put.

By that time, Ida Belle was next to me, rattling off a game plan. I had my nine and Gertie’s palm pistol, but neither weapon did us much good since we were trying to stay down while we figured out if we had more than one shooter.

By this time, chaos had struck. The competitors scattered, most of them screaming for their very lives.

Gertie gasped. “I want you to look at those idiots. They’re throwing down their weapons.”

“More for us to pick up,” Ida Belle said, unmoved.

As a gut-wrenching reality seeped into my veins, I couldn’t help but think that she might be right.

Meanwhile, Walter and Carter encouraged everyone to stay calm. In the distance, I overhead Carter say, “This way. Stay down. Listen to my voice. Keep your heads covered.”

“We’re using Gertie’s car and Carter’s truck for cover. We’ve got to move these people indoors,” Ida Belle said, sounding like a trained covert operative who could take the lead in any situation.

“How many shooters do we have?” Gertie asked.

“I only saw one.” Ida Belle frowned. “But the glint glare must’ve been manufactured because I couldn’t see a thing, at least not at first.”

“One from an elevated position is one too many,” Carter said, grabbing two kids and shielding them as he walked them behind his truck. When he returned, he looked at Ida Belle and said, “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to ask you to take Fortune and Gertie and go inside.”

Walter directed some of the turkey shooters out of the way. “Don’t waste your breath, Carter. Let’s get these people out of here.”

I sucked in a breath. “What he said.”

We were at the lower end of the steakhouse parking lot and had about thirty feet between us and the entrance. The shooter could take advantage of the open porch, but hopefully he wouldn’t have a chance.

I had to act fast.  

“See anything yet?” Gertie asked, crouching next to one of her tires.

A series of pings struck the side of her car. It sounded like it got the wheel and bounced off, but Gertie didn’t care.

She yelled, “I’m sending your employer a bill! And I’m suing for pain and suffering!”

“What is wrong with you today? First, you call out discrimination. Now, you’re talking pain and suffering.”

“Nerve pills. It’s a reaction.”

“Vitamins,” Ida Belle said. “Senile moment.”

“I was betting on moonshine and coffee.”

Ida Belle shrugged. “That too.”

Another round of pings struck her car.

“Describe the guy on the roof.” I already suspected what kind of description would follow, but still needed something to go on.

“Middle Eastern descent,” Ida Belle said reluctantly. “He may not be alone. Walter thinks another two arrived by boat.”  

“Thinks or is certain?”

Gertie lowered her weapon and said, “If Walter thinks it, he knows it. He’s saying that for Ida Belle’s benefit. It’s code speak for ‘I don’t want to upset you, but we may have a problem’ which means, cover your ass or we’re all gonna die.”

“Not now, Hebert,” Ida Belle said, pulling a box of hollowpoint bullets from her bomber jacket. “No one is dying today.”

If there was ever a time when I appreciated Ida Belle’s preparedness, it was now. I peered around Gertie’s bumper, clenching my nine with both hands.

“I knew I should’ve stayed home,” I muttered. The last thing I wanted to do was put innocent people in harm’s way.

Gertie said. “We were ready for this.” She quickly crawled to the back of her car, inserted the key, and popped the trunk. Removing her illegal shotgun, she grinned. “Never leave a good shotgun behind.”  

“Wait a minute. You suspected this?”

“They both did,” Walter said. “Didn’t you notice the extra springs in their steps this morning?”

Ida Belle motioned the last group of innocent people to Carter’s truck. He slowly drove toward the steakhouse as we walked alongside them, using metal for cover as we kept our sights trained on the roofline.

“See anything?” Ida Belle asked.

“Not yet,” Walter replied, trying to shield Ida Belle with his body.

My heart squeezed a little when I saw how Walter cared for Ida Belle. She loved him right back, which was why she refused to use him as a shield. Today, she was as deadly as a viper and eager to protect those beside her.

And she wasn’t the only one.