“Mister Snow!”
Max turned around at the call to see a man in a rumpled and well-worn suit come his way. Max smiled at the man, the director of the Next Chance Animal Shelter.
“Alexander,” he said, and took the man’s outstretched hand, shaking it warmly and they patted each other on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you,” he said in Sicilian Italian.
“Been a long time. When I saw your name among the donors, I realized how long it’s been.”
“I think I see grey…” Max tilted his head to look closer at his hair.
“At least I have all of it!” Alexander laughed, passing a hand through his hair self-consciously.
“So what are you doing here? Not hobnobbing with the politicians?”
“Eh, they’re crawling all over the place. Smells worse than the dogshit.”
Max laughed, clapped the man on the back. “She’s quite a looker, I see, though.”
“Married, married. Useless.”
Then the door right behind them opened and people started coming out. First it was the press, and then some others in suits. One was obviously the representative, talking to some other women. A little girl came out also, holding onto a woman’s hand. Max stepped in and found himself in the center of the group, as they separated into a V. The representative went one way, the girl went the other, and he was in the middle of the crowd.
Then there was a series of shots. Like they always did when he heard war noise, everything moved in slow motion. Both the girl and the representative were of equal distance from him. He could only jump in front of one of them – he’d already gotten hit in the shoulder near the neck.
He heard nothing but the gunshots, not the screaming, not people running, just the gunshots. He made a quick decision and dove, knocking down his target and throwing his body over her. He got three more bullets in his back for his trouble, and then it stopped.
He looked down at the body under him. “Are you okay?”
The wide-eyed little girl nodded. Then the noise came rushing into his ears: the yelling of the people, the sounds of a struggle, a man screaming for someone to help his wife. Max turned his head, only his head, and saw a pool of blood forming under the representative’s body.
He turned back to the little girl. “Just stay here, honey, until they have the gunman down.”
Words: 414
Inspiration: Recent shootings in AZ.
Music: None
Comment: I’ve rewritten history. Now can we please stop talking about it?