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Before: 447 Miles an Hour


Ashley

"Don't worry," Chris said, "We can go tell him together." He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around my hair, pulling me up. The gun pressed harder into my back. "Get the baby," he said.

I put pink giraffe into Zoey's carrier and unbuckled her. My heart raced. She gurgled and reached up at me. I lifted her gently. "Now," Chris said. "Hand her to me."

"Please. Don't hurt her. Please," I whimpered. He took Zoey out of my arms and she squeaked in disapproval, her face crumbling as he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her to his chest. She reached back for me. I felt my lower lip trembling.

Chris nodded to my purse. "Get it out."

"Get what out."

"The gun."

My mouth went dry. "What gun?"

Chris laughed. "Ashley, do you really wanna play stupid with me while I'm holding this baby and a gun?"

My hands shook as I opened my purse and pulled out the Glock. It felt twice as heavy as it ever had before.

"Here's how it's going to work," he said. "You... me... and Zoey... we're gonna take a walk inside. We're gonna find Nick, and you're going to shoot him. Then you and me are going to drive away and live happily ever after with our daughter."

"I won't shoot Nick."

"Okay. Your choice." Chris raised the gun from my back and the sun glinted off it as he raised it, pressed it against Zoey's chest. She cooed and grabbed onto it, laughing.

"No!" I yelled.

Chris smiled. "But that's the rules, Ashley. We need to play by the rules."

I felt sick. "Please," I begged.

Chris leaned Zoey between himself and the car, bracing her with his hip. I instinctively reached to steady her. He took the Glock, unclipped the safety, loaded the chamber, and handed it back to me, smacking my hands away from Zoey. "There we go. Now all's you gotta do is pull the trigger and aim real good. It's like those games at the arcade," he said, "You shoot the target, and you win a prize." He hoisted Zoey up on his hip again. "You ready?"

My mouth was dry. I nodded slowly.

"Okay." He put his hand down on Zoey's chest with the gun aimed, his finger on the trigger, covering the gun with her blanket. "Let's go let Nick know you forgot about the milk then, shall we?"

Every step felt like a million miles. Every beat of my heart echoed loud and thick in my ears like a gong. The pavement seemed to stretch on...and on... and on... Chris's footfalls were right behind me. About halfway into the grocery store, Zoey started to cry.

Nick would've started singing Brown Eyed Girl to her, I thought.

"Shut the fuck up," Chris grumbled at her, "Shut the fuck up."

Fluff, I thought, Dont say fuck, say fluff.

The automatic doors slid open. Nick's Glock felt so heavy in my hand, like a ten pound weight. It was really only a couple ounces, I think. I don't know.

The automatic doors parted with their pfffff of sound, and the noise of the grocery store flooded out. The people, an automated voice announcing that tuna fish was on sale. The speakers cracking out Jessie's Girl. A tired looking employee with a blue apron pushed a cart of apples by. The overwhelming smell of the small floral department assaulted my nostrils.

And there he was.

He was standing in front of the bananas, picking out a bunch. He was analyzing them, looking for brown spots. He hated the brown spots.

I wanted so bad for him to have been on the way out as we were going in, for him to go to the car and realize what happened somehow, for a miracle to occurr. But no, no he had to be standing here, had to be picking out bunch of fluffing bananas.

And taking his damn time doing it.

I wanted for the guy in the apron to turn around, to see the Glock. I wanted for someone to stop what was about to happen.

"Remember," Chris said, "Don't do anything funny. It won't work. Even if I had terrible aim, there'd be no missing the baby right now."

"Her name's Zoey," I choked. I held the gun, my hands shaking.

"Call him," Chis demanded. "I want him to know what's happening. I want him to see you with me. I want him to know before he dies."

I felt like I was going to pass out. This couldn't possibly be real. Could it? This couldn't possibly be how it all ended. I thought of Nick a year ago in the rain, running down the street to the car, about to drive to Vegas, I thought of how the lights reflected off the puddles, of his laugh, that loud guffaw that came from deep down in his chest somewhere. I thought of the way he'd fallen to his knees in the foyer of the church. Pick me, he'd begged. And again just a coupl hours ago, on his knees again, in front of the duckpond... "Ashley, can we spend the rest of our lives together?"

I'd said yes.

"Call him," Chris snarled.

"Nick," I called, my voice barely above a choking whisper. He'd moved to the tomatoes. I lifted the gun.

"Again, he didn't hear you."

"Nick," I choked.

"You must not think I'm serious about pulling the trigger on this baby," Chris said.

"NICK!" I screamed.

He looked up. His eyes landed on me. On Chris. On Zoey. Back to me. He saw the gun. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, the bananas fell from his hand. A dozen eyes turned to face us. Someone somewhere yelled gun!

"Do it!" Chris shouted.

"I'm sorry," I choked, and I pulled the trigger.




Nick

According to the manual, the bullet traveled at 200 meters per second. That's about 447 miles per hour. I literally don't even know how to do the math to figure out how long it took it to travel the ten yards that separated us. But however long it took, it took forever. I saw people dropping in slow motion all around me, like the ground had given out from them. I saw Chris holding Zoey, holding my little girl. I saw Ashley, her face full of anguish and fear.

I knew I was going to die.

They say that when you die you see everything flash before your eyes.

The first time I died... in the plane crash... I saw the flashing lights. I saw Ashley's face. And I heard Leslie's voice.

The first time I died, I woke up at Niagra Falls.

This time I saw the bullet coming towards me. Spiraling in the air. I saw Ashley's face. And I heard a dull ringing in my ears.

And then the bullet broke my skin and I felt my body burst around it, saw the blood, felt my heart catching, felt myself shutting down, like an off switch had been struck, felt myself being thrown backwards with the velocity of the bullet, felt my back hit the stand, felt my legs give out from under me as the blood spread across my shirt. Felt the floor beneath me. The lights of the produce section hung over me, the rumbling of the gun's shot echoed off the plaster. The floor was cold, hard, beneath me.

I lay there. Blood pouring from my chest.

I heard a scream... but it was far away. Like it was underwater.

Then Ashley was above me.

Leaning over me. I think she was talking, her mouth was moving...

I closed my eyes...

And when I opened them I could see nothing. Nothing except white...Everything was white. Blinding white.