The Divine Shot

Everything was happening so fast. The shooter was on a rampage. Edna guessed ten to fifteen people had already been shot in the front area of the gift shop where the shooter had entered. It was a bloodbath. People were screaming and fleeing for their lives. They were running in all directions seeking any type of cover to avoid the hail of bullets. She saw several people near the fire exit attempting to open it. But for some reason the door would not open. When shells started slamming into displays near them, they gave up all hopes of the door opening, and fell to the floor. They scattered in all directions, seeking cover under displays or any other place that might give them some protection. People and beautiful displays were being mown down like they were nothing. Everything was being destroyed by the rapid gunfire. The shooter appeared to be enjoying his rampage. As he fired his weapon he shouted “DEATH TO AMERICA—ALL AMERICANS MUST DIE—ALLAH WILL REIGN OVER YOU” and several other Arabic phrases that Edna could not understand. This is unreal…No one could be this mad. Please help us, God. Edna knew this man meant to kill everyone there. Edna fell from her crouched position onto the floor. Laying flat on her belly with her hands covering her ears, she wished she could melt and blend into the woodwork where she could not be seen. Her head was turned to her right side. Thank heavens her eyes were open. She could see open space recessed under the nearby counter. The counter rested on legs which could not be seen from the front view. It looked as if the space was high enough for her to crawl through. She thought being behind the counter would offer her more protection and buy her a little more time here on earth. She shoved her carry-everything purse through to the other side. Then she dragged her one hundred thirty pound slender body through. Now on the other side, she quickly turned back around to face the opening. Lying flat on her stomach with her head under the counter, she had a fairly good overall view of the room. Edna could see that the shooter was approximately six foot tall. His hair was black and clean cut. He appeared to be well dressed underneath the arsenal he—Oh, my good heavens! This is the man I saw running from the back of the Cracker Barrel, while I was walking earlier! She recognized his clean cut black hair and the dark slacks. She could see only the long sleeves of the blue dress shirt which peeked from the black sleeveless military style vest he wore. Now she understood the reason for the strange feelings she had gotten when she first saw him. If she had only listened to these feelings and sought help, maybe this could have been prevented. With her eyes closed, Edna’s face fell flat to the floor as she cried, “Oh my dear God in heaven—what have I done? Edna lifted her head and looked in the direction of the shooter; focusing on the weapons the man carried. She was no expert on guns. But the ones this man carried definitely did not qualify under the laws for a concealed weapons permit. She suspected the weapon he had strapped across his shoulder and was now firing was an AK-47 assault rifle. She remembered seeing one on the nightly news not long ago. There were also two mean looking pistols clipped to a swing belt at his waist. Uzi’s, she thought. They appeared to have silencers on them. He must have wanted to surprise everyone on the porch, giving them no time to flee, she thought. The noise from the guns would have alerted everyone inside the restaurant. They would have charged the front door as they ran for safety. Maybe he wanted time to shoot everyone quietly on the porch, and then reload before he charged the inside. She noticed the vest he wore was bulging with what she also suspected was additional ammunition. This guy had come prepared to kill. Edna shook all over. Her heart felt as if it were jumping out of her chest. She felt sure she was taking her last precious moments of breath. She felt responsible somehow for this. She wanted to pray to God, but she had never prayed much and wasn’t sure if she even knew how to say a proper prayer. But, if there ever was a good time to learn, this was it, she thought. At the moment she was shaking so badly she didn’t think she could even talk to God. Maybe God can hear my thoughts. She considered this and quickly thought her prayer. God, please hurry…he’s killing everyone. Her thoughts rushed to Grady and her family. What effects will my death have on them? She knew this would be devastating for all of them and she hated being the cause of such grief. Bullets zoomed overhead and all around the room breaking jams, jellies, lotions, special homemade jars of various sauces, and anything else that was in the line of fire. Edna felt sure this would be the day of her death. I’m not ready to die yet. God, please don’t let me die now. There was so much unfinished business. She longed to hear Grady’s voice. She wanted to tell him goodbye.