Family Treed by Pauline Baird Jones

Author:Pauline Baird Jones [Jones, Pauline Baird]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pauline Baird Jones

Alex heard the shot and saw the flash off to his left, where Nell sat. He dove for her, knocking her to the floor. The hard, unyielding floor. Felt her breath go out as they hit marble, cuz he sure couldn’t hear it over thunderclap.

And then he heard the sound of glass breaking…

…the thunder sounded louder with the windows gone…

…But it got swallowed up in sound of gunfire as some semi-autos opened up.

He tried to shield Nell, groped for his weapon, but it was not right time to fire back. Not yet. His muzzle flash would give away their position.

Bullets chewed across the tabletop, spraying glassware and food in every direction.

Then slammed into wall above them. Near as he could tell, shooters were determined to write with bullets in both directions. And then back again.

Air was thick with plaster dust and smoke.

Throw in thunder as background. Lightning. And the shooters.

A total Charlie Foxtrot.

Except…

Alex frowned. Didn’t seem like anyone was shooting back. And the pattern of the shots seemed odd, though conditions were bad for an accurate assessment. Seemed like some shots ought to be hitting marble and ricocheting around. One shooter did take out a chandelier. It smashed into the tabletop with a crash.

And then it stopped.

The shooting, not the storm.

Through a couple of lightning flashes, Alex tensed, waiting for round two.

Rain splattered against the marble floor. Outside smells mingled with the smell of food and cordite.

Cautiously he lifted his head, then came to his knees beside Nell, his body between her and where the shooting had come from, but his head still below the table. He popped up for a quick look. Lightning flash confirmed shattering of food and dishes. Oh well, he’d lost his appetite anyway.

And then he noted wide eyes peering over the edge of the table at nine, eleven, twelve, and one o’clocks, and another set over at three o’clock. He did a mental count. Then did it again. All that shooting and not a single casualty? Not even the old man? How was that possible—his heart jerked and his breathing stalled.

Nell.

As abruptly as they’d gone out, the lights flickered a couple of times, then stayed on. Nell lay where he’d left her, seemingly not moving.

The first shot.

He turned, panic clawing up his throat, but before he reached her, she moved. Shifted, flexed her legs and arms, groaned and then rolled over.

“Ow.” She grimaced. Or maybe she tried to smile.

The hit to the marble had to have hurt. “Are you all right?” He crouched by her. Without being told, his hands moved up her legs, then her arms, wandered over her head, probing for injuries. Wanted to keep going, wanted to check out the good stuff, but a look in her eyes stalled him. He helped her sit up, then get up, as other figures around the table rose like they were puppets on strings. Would have been funny any other time. Any other place. He was aware that the two men moved to help the old man back into his wheelchair, but he didn’t care that much.

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