One Second After [111]
And then she just stepped forward, heading towards the median barrier.
"I'll shoot!" the student guard screamed.
John held his hands out appealingly, looking towards his student. "Don't!"
The rifle went off, Carol screaming, ducking down, the other refugees flinging themselves to the pavement.
Either the guard had fired high or in her nervousness had missed. But the girl was already working the bolt, the ejected shell casing ringing loudly as it hit the pavement.
"Next one is to the head!" the student was screaming.
"Carol, don't move!"
He started to move towards the median barrier, the hell with the quarantine.
"Colonel, don't!"
It was Washington Parker, running up, Colt .45 drawn, but something now seemed to tell him to holster his pistol, the sight of it ready to trigger a panic.
He stepped in front of the student.
"Point that gun straight up please," he said calmly, and she obeyed. Next he turned towards the refugees.
"A mistake, people, nothing more. Please keep moving. There's plenty of fresh water at Exit 64, you can rest a bit and wash up there."
He pointed to the family with the children in the shopping cart.
"I bet your little ones need a bath. It's just around the bend in the road. But you must stay in the center of the road."
They started to get to their feet and moved back towards the white stripe dividing the two lanes.
Washington approached Carol, but not too closely.
"Ma'am, please stand up. No one will hurt you if you please stand up and back away from the median barrier."
"Do as he says, Carol," John interjected.
Shaking, she stood up.
John looked at her, and it was as if she was a different person. That the final shreds of pride, of decency, within her had disintegrated. A woman who but six weeks back most likely had a corner office, a parking slot with her name on it, a liberal expense account, and a damn good stock option had just tried to sell her body for a place to rest for a night and a bowl of soup.
"Carol, are you all right?"
She said nothing, features almost blank, turned, and fell back into the line of refugees.
Something told him with grim certainty she would not live much longer, shattered to the point that a razor blade across the wrists would be a welcomed relief. He was tempted to call her back and he stepped over the median barrier and actually took a step towards her. "Colonel, sir."
He looked back. It was Washington, shaking his head no. Washington turned back on the student who had fired the shot. "Was that a warning shot or were you aiming at her?" Washington said. "I'm not sure," and her voice was near breaking.
"You were wrong on two counts," Washington snapped, and the girl was now at attention, trembling. "That woman had not yet tried to go over the barrier. Your orders are only to shoot if they go over the barrier or try to turn on you."
"She was getting close to Professor Mather—I mean the colonel, sir."
"I am not sir; I am Sergeant Parker. Remember your orders and abide by them. Now the second count. Was that a warning shot or not? Remember I told all of you I am the only one to give a warning shot. If you shoot, then do it to kill. A warning shot is a wasted bullet, and we've got precious few of them."
"I think I aimed at her."
Washington snatched the gun from the girl.
"Go back up to the barrier; you can help interview the refugees. I'm sending someone who has the guts to aim right to your place."
The girl, crestfallen, turned and walked away, her shoulders beginning to shake.
Parker shouted for one of the boys by the barrier to walk escort with refugees and John came up to his side.
"A bit hard perhaps?" Washington asked. John shook his head.
"I've told my girls repeatedly, if you are going to shoot, shoot to kill. But that pathetic woman did not deserve to be shot at."
"I know," Washington sighed. "What did she do? Offer to sleep with your
"Yes."
"I get it