sam_mm (sam_mm) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2008-08-21 07:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | andy, emma, sniper |
290 Gallery, around 9am, Andy, Emma, NPC Sean, Closed
He had found a vantage point that gave him a view clear across the Square and into the front of all the establishments. True it was very early but that, he hoped, would give him a whole new tranche of potential targets - the earnest hard-working, determined to get on in the world ones. The ones that people CARED about. The ones who would be mourned by more than just a few friends and family.
There were people about now - the Frenchman opening his cafe, a man carrying a box pausing to greet him, a tall dark haired woman waving to them both then turning the corner by the gallery. No kids though.
He'd have to wait.
Andy let herself in at the back of the gallery, grinning to see Sean seated at the wheel of the van. As soon as he spotted her he jumped out and came to help.
"Tough night?" she asked nodding to his black eye.
"Won my bout," he said, grinning. "Gonna ring D later an' tell him he shoulda been there."
By that time she had the door open and the alarms off and they both went inside. For the next ten minutes they didn't speak, the morning routine was well established. Sean took down the screen on the door while Andy checked the voice mail, got the computers going and checked the float.
"Whacha want me to do today?" Sean asked, once everything was in place.
Andy handed him the delivery list. "You packed it all yesterday didn't you?" she asked. Sean grinned and headed off for the lift.
###
Up on the roof he was laughing. "Sean Fletcher you little bastard," he chortled. Now there was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. He took aim at the back of the boy's head as he fiddled with the screens over the gallery door then remembered that he had set himself the task of killing NICE kids. And Sean was too old. Let him rob them blind - stupid bastards.
He lowered his rifle and looked around the Square and suddenly his mouth went dry. There she was, neat as a pin, with her bag on her shoulder, no doubt containing a lunch packed by a loving mother and some worthy and improving reading material - Austen or Proust, perhaps. The Frenchman was waving and she was speaking to him. No chance of a shot - he didn't dare hit another by-stander.
And then - and then another person stepped into his sights. He snarled at his oblivious back and looked and snarled again. Lawyer Beck on his way to work, passing the time of day and ruining everything.
He gritted his teeth as the pair paused by the gallery doors, then she was inside and Beck went blithely on his way. He growled his frustration then noticed that he could make out something behind the window blinds.
"Oh yesssss," he hissed and applied his eye to the sights.
###
Andy smiled as Emma came through the door. "Hey," she greeted. "Tea's made if you want some."
"That'd be good, oh, and Gaston says they have that lovely tarte au citron today if you want some for lunch? My treat." She grinned and headed for the kitchen to get a cup of tea.
Andy smiled and went across to the window and freed the blind, letting it roll up with a whoosh. Simultaneously something snatched her leg out from under her.
She fell sprawling and crying out with the shock of it and just had time to register the chipped plinth of the Hare statue and the star in the glass beyond it before the pain hit her. She cried out again, gripping her leg and then gasped. Eyes wide and fearful she watched the blood spraying between her fingers in a steady rhythmic pump.
Emma heard the first cry, and set the kettle down, then ran back into the gallery, "Oh my god, Andy, are you ok? What happened?" That was when she saw the blood, and the hole in the window.
There was another crack and the window shattered and fell in with a ringing crash. Andy screamed, "Get back - oh shit, Emma - get back," but her voice died off in a moan as the pain hammered through her. She moved, releasing her leg as she tried to roll away from the window, and blood splattered across the room.
Emma managed to avoid the flying glass, but couldn't duck the blood, she cringed slightly and panic started to flood in, there was so much blood, and, she really didn't know what to do. However, she could reach one of Andy's hands, and grabbed it, pulling with everything she had to get Andy out of the window area and back towards the desk, it was clear from the fright in her voice that she was rather out of her depth with this situation. "Andy, what should I do? Andy?"
White-faced, Andy stared at her. "P-pressure," she faltered. "Try t-to push ..." her eyes closed and she gasped a breath. "Emma - please ..."
Emma realised what Andy was trying to say, and grabbed hold of her leg, but the problem with being short was that everything else was smaller in proportion, and although she managed to slow the flood it wasn't enough and she knew it, "SEAN!!!" she screamed, hoping he was still here as he usually was first thing and hadn't gone anywhere. "I need help down here, NOW!!"
Sean heard the scream from inside the lift and put down the crated picture he was carrying. As soon as the door opened he ran through to the front of the gallery and stared at the mess then ran to Emma's side. "Oh fuck," he said dropping to his knees. "Fuck - oh fuck!"
He yanked his tee shirt off over his head, twisted it into a rope and looped it around Andy's leg then twisted the ends together. Grimacing as the pump and spray of blood eased only a little he gripped her thigh between his hands and squeezed. Andy screamed sharply and Sean looked at Emma. "We need a paramedic," he said. "Emm - Emma? Please, honey. Can you call?"
"That I can do." Emma smiled at Sean gratefully, she was not really good with blood, but she wiped her hands on her already gory trousers and pulled the phone off the desk, no way was she standing up to do that. Dialling 999 was an accident, one she hoped never to make again as she hung up and tried again, 9 - 1 - 1. There, she had it right this time.
The operator was calm, and that helped too, as Emma tried to match that state with clear information. Yes, they needed a paramedic, maybe the police, definitely the medic though, at the 290 Gallery on Vine Square, lots of blood, lots and lots of blood, possible shooting. The call ended with the operator promising assistance in just a few minutes. Emma put the phone down, "Hang in there Andy, don't you go and die on me, or Charlie will fire me for sure. Letting you die on my watch, that's not a good plan."
Andy's eyes opened at that. "Promise," she whispered, then her eyes closed again.
"She'll be all right," Sean said, his face pale with strain as he locked his hands.
Emma sat there, huddled into a ball and trying to think of something else she could do that was helpful, only to draw a blank every time. Instead she concentrated on listening for the sounds of sirens, and praying they'd hurry up and get there, before, before something even more terrible happened.