Thomas McAllister really wasn’t expecting the gunfire. The windows of the his favourite Thai restaurant shattered as bullets flew threw the glass, spiderwebbing and shattering as he instinctively put his arm around Jen, his girlfriend, and began flattening to the floor. His head was up, however, as people screamed, a line of impacts that seemed in slow motion as his mine raced. Bullet holes appeared in the wood of the front counter, diagonally up into a to go container of General Tso’s chicken, causing an explosion of nuclear orange sauce to spray up into the air towards the ornaments and curtains that adorned the ceiling.
The bullets continued upwards, however, catching the shocked counter girl the the shoulder, making her spin like a top as she fell. The other lady at the counter faired even worse, the bullet that entered the front of her head sending red and grey out the back in an echo of the food a moment ago. The window, perforated by a dozen shots fell forward out of the frame, shattering over the waiting chairs and sending a hail of clear gems down over where he and his girlfriend lay prone.
Then, with a screeching of tires, the noise of gunfire ceased. Thomas shook the glass off him, trying to look over his shoulder to get a look at the license plate, but only caught a fuzzy glimpse of a black SUV speeding around the corner. Still, he sprung into action, leaving his “Is everyone OK?” Thomas asked, despite it being obviously not the case. One look at the mess beside the head of the customer revealed that she had eaten her last moo goo gai pan, and the cashier was holding her shoulder and howling in pain.
Thomas picked up the phone on the counter and dialed 9-1-1 as the cooked peered carefully out the kitchen door at the scene of chaos. At least there hadn’t been any other customers. “Hello, 9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s been a drive by shooting at Mai’s on fourth street,” he explained, turning around to survey the damage. At least the place had been mostly empty. “One killed, one seriously inj-”
He broke off as he saw the streetlight shining through the back of the chair, the edges of the hole stained with blood. A red trail traced a thin path downwards, off the corner, into the deep stain that was soaking into the back of his soft forest green sweater, a larger pool forming beneath her. The phone fell from nerveless fingers as the emergency operator called for his attention. Not even hearing the voice, or noticing the cook picking up the phone, he dropped to his knees beside Jen, putting his hand on her already cooling cheek as his jeans soaked up her blood.
The bullets continued upwards, however, catching the shocked counter girl the the shoulder, making her spin like a top as she fell. The other lady at the counter faired even worse, the bullet that entered the front of her head sending red and grey out the back in an echo of the food a moment ago. The window, perforated by a dozen shots fell forward out of the frame, shattering over the waiting chairs and sending a hail of clear gems down over where he and his girlfriend lay prone.
Then, with a screeching of tires, the noise of gunfire ceased. Thomas shook the glass off him, trying to look over his shoulder to get a look at the license plate, but only caught a fuzzy glimpse of a black SUV speeding around the corner. Still, he sprung into action, leaving his “Is everyone OK?” Thomas asked, despite it being obviously not the case. One look at the mess beside the head of the customer revealed that she had eaten her last moo goo gai pan, and the cashier was holding her shoulder and howling in pain.
Thomas picked up the phone on the counter and dialed 9-1-1 as the cooked peered carefully out the kitchen door at the scene of chaos. At least there hadn’t been any other customers. “Hello, 9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s been a drive by shooting at Mai’s on fourth street,” he explained, turning around to survey the damage. At least the place had been mostly empty. “One killed, one seriously inj-”
He broke off as he saw the streetlight shining through the back of the chair, the edges of the hole stained with blood. A red trail traced a thin path downwards, off the corner, into the deep stain that was soaking into the back of his soft forest green sweater, a larger pool forming beneath her. The phone fell from nerveless fingers as the emergency operator called for his attention. Not even hearing the voice, or noticing the cook picking up the phone, he dropped to his knees beside Jen, putting his hand on her already cooling cheek as his jeans soaked up her blood.
