Midnight Sun (134 page)

Radios crackled with the voices of snipers declaring they had no shot, couldn’t get repositioned quick enough. 
Each
heartbeat
lasted
an
eternit
y
.
Marcus watched the
sight
post at the end of his pistol wave
in tight sideways figure eight. Farrah’s eyes
squeezed
shut
then
slowly
opened,
pupils
so wide the
brown
of his
irises
had nearly vanished
.
He scanned the crowed with the manic snap of a cornered animal, confusion and terror equally balanced with tightly wound violence.
He blinked a second
time then his eyes stretched even larger until they seemed as if they’d pop out of their sockets.

***

Farrah’s body and all but a portion of his eye and forehead were tucked behind Lonnie.
The smell of her shampoo filled his sinus, sweet and pretty. He had a sudden memory of a young woman he had once dated. Her father had forbade him from seeing the girl after learning he was a Muslim. A deep sadness crept up his throat, tightening around his Adam’s Apple like the grip of the reaper, threatening to choke off his life.

His gaze swept over the park. Columns of thick black smoke continued to rise from beneath the lawn and through a manhole that
ha
d
its cover blown off during the explosion. He watched a Paramedic kneel to a screaming child half way across the park. A woman held a teen boy’s head to her chest, his arms hanging at his sides, body limp.
Part of him wanted to
stop the madness, to
lay down the gun and surrender, to take it all back
and wish away this evil he’d wrought
.
But then, superimposed of the destruction before him, he saw the image of his parents flaming death which in spite of not having actually seen it was nonetheless burned into his imagination as if it were a memory.

A brown skinned man with a pistol was shouting something at him that he could not understand. A white man in civilian clothes said something as well, a word he recognized – Shaheed.

Yes, I am shaheed I will be a martyr now.

His finger tightened around the trigger, the muscles in his forearm tensing. Squeezing the trigger seemed harder than it should have, the simple mechanical parts resisting too much. He felt it start to give just as he
saw a bright flash of light
explode in
the distance behind the rows of police and soldiers.
A small gold
-
colored metal object grew in size like an approaching sun. H
e
registered the oncoming bullet
for what it was
a fraction of a second before it hi
t
his skull. The tiny oblong metal ball hit him
,
a force like a ten
-
ton hammer slamming his forehead. He never heard the sound of the shot before his brain ceased to
know
anything.

***

Mike flinched as
the
back
of
Farrah's
skull
disintegrated,
a
cloud
of
pink
erupting
behind
him.
Eyes
wide,
mouth
dropping
open
in
shock
,
Steven
Farrah
fell
straight
back
onto
the
street
,
still
grasping
Lonnie.
Someone in the crowd let out a high pitched scream.

Marcus
rushed
to
his wife
,
pulling
her
off
Farrah
’
s
twitching
body.
She
released
the
tight
hold
she’d had
on
her
breath
and
started
panting,
quickly
dissolving
into
sobs.
She
sucked
in
a
deep
breath,
and
her
eyes
darted
toward
the
park.

“
Kharzai,
”
she
raised her arm
pointing
weakly
to the crowd
.
“
He's
getting
away
. G
o.
”

Marcus
followed
the direction of her
finger
and
caught
a
fleeting
image
of
Kharzai's
curl
s
flopping
above
the
crowd
as
he
jogged nonchalantly across the park
.
Marcus
jumped
up
and
sprinted
toward
him,
Mike
close
on
his
heels
. They caught
a
full
view
of
him
just
as
he
hopped
into
Farrah's
Audi
parked
beside
the
road
nearly
a
block
away, an excited dog
jumped
in
to the car
behind
him
and settl
ed
on the passenger seat
tail wagging
.
Marcus
’
s
truck
waited in a park
side slot
parked
nearby.
They
rushed to it and
climbed
in
.
Marcus
started
the
engine
, glancing up and seeing
Kharzai
sli
p
calmly
onto
10th
A
venue
mov
ing
away
from
the
scene.
An officer at a police check point stopped him and an officer leaned toward the window. Whatever Kharzai said, the officer bought it and signaled for the barricade to be moved. The Audi slipped through and
Kharzai
sped
up
10th
to
Gambell
R
oad
and
turned
left.

Marcus
followed
parallel
on
9th
A
venue
. A National Guard soldier signaled them to stop. Marcus slowed and rolled down his windows. Mike leaned across the seat flashing his FBI credentials toward the soldier.

“Open the barrier! We’re in pursuit of a suspect,” Mike shouted.

“I’m sorry sir, but…”

Mike exploded with the command voice of a Marine officer, “Open the gate sergeant! Right now!”

The sergeant reacted, more out of instinct to the sound of command than to the logic of the order
. The whole
squad
instantly snapped to and opened the barrier allowing Marcus’s truck through.

Marcus jammed the accelerator to the floor and rocketed through two blocks, pressing their bodies hard into the seats as the 5.4 liter V8 pounded into turbo.
Kharzai
crossed
an intersection in front of them
.
As he came
around
the
corner,
the
Persian
saw
Marcus,
recognition
sparked
in
his
eyes
. T
he
glimmer
of
his
trademark
toothy
grin
stretched
wide,
b
aring
his
white
teeth.
He
floored
the
accelerator.
The
high
-
performance
sedan
shot
off
like
a
bullet.
Marcus
floored
his
truck's
gas
pedal
too,
but
F250
was
designed with towing power in mind,
not
zero
-
to
-
sixty
performance
like
the
Audi.