Jodie squealed to a stop outside of the mall’s entrance behind the Toyota. Other police cars were there, lights rotating on their roofs. Sirens blared.

Jodie turned to Graham and said, “Stay here.”

She hopped out of the car, patted her vest, took out her firearm and ran into the mall through the sensor operated doors. The cops following them ran past Graham’s door.

Graham shook in his seat. He was back at the outlet mall with his family. He saw the barrel come over the counter again. He saw it pointed at his face. He flinched as though it had gone off again. His brain burned. He stared at the iPad screen to reconnect to the now. The cloud he could see on the screen above the mall grew denser. A black blanket of ill happenings. A stain of murder only he could see. His brain burned in his skull. His breath rattled in his throat. He opened the door and stepped out. He glanced up into the sun. His live eye took in the flat white disc. His non-eye saw an inky sky. He inhaled the day’s air as though it might be his last.

He stepped away from the car. His feet were taking him into the mall.

People fleeing ran past him. Jellied faces covered in tears. Some bumped into him, some circled wide around him.

Graham stepped inside the mall into the cool manufactured air. The smell of pizza reached him. His stomach awoke to the scent. He continued past the storefront. He heard gunshots but even without them, he would know where to go. The dark clouds provided a trail.

His feet moved faster. He went from a stiff-legged walk to a jog and to a run. When he arrived at the food court, he stopped, mouth open. He felt as though he’d been transported back in time.

In the Starbucks line, a man sat on the floor, under the Order Here sign. His hands were holding his guts. Intestines bulged between his fingers. His brow was creased as though he was not understanding what he was seeing under his hands. In the middle of an aisle, a woman was sprawled over the top of a screaming child. A large red hole in the back of her shoulder pulsed the last of the woman’s life. Two cops were huddled behind a ceramic tree box. Their guns were pointed at the sky. Sweat dotted their skin and slid into their mouths frozen in a rictus of fear. At their feet was a body missing the top half of their head. More cops converged on the Orange Julius stand. Jodie crept along, bent low at the waist, making her way there as well.

A man popped up from behind the Orange Julius counter. In his right hand was a shotgun. A young girl’s head was trapped in his left elbow. He was choking her with that arm. Her eyes bulged red and blood spilled from her lips. The man pushed the girl down on top of the stainless steel counter and using her as a shield and a prop, he shot at the approaching officers. BOOM! A police officer screamed and rolled on the ground.

The man laughed and yelled, “Woo-eeeee! We’re having some fun now aren’t we?”

Using the end of the shotgun, he hit the girl in her back. She yelped and he said, “I fucking told ya didn’t I? Told ya I’d shut you up! You have nothing smart to say now do ya?”

Graham whispered, “Not again. Why is this happening again?”

Without realizing it, focused on the gunman behind the counter, Graham walked towards him. The little girl trapped under her mother’s body cried and sobbed. As Graham passed her, he heard her say, “Mommy? Let’s go, mommy. I want to go home. Please, mommy.”

Tears blurred Graham’s vision. He said, “Not again.”

He walked past the two police officers behind the ceramic tree box. One of them saw Graham, made to stand and his partner hauled him down. To Graham, she said, “Sir! Sir! Get down!”

Graham moved forward, eye on the man yelling at his hostage, a length of saliva falling from the man’s mouth onto the girl’s blonde hair.

Jodie saw the officer go down not more than ten feet from her. He had been behind a garbage receptacle and trying to creep closer to Ray when Ray fired off a shot at him. The plastic receptacle shredded. Bits of the plastic tore into the officer’s face and he dropped to the ground, dropping his gun and putting his hands to his face screaming, “I can’t see! I can’t fucking see!”

She yelled at him, “Get back behind cover!”

The officer continued to roll on the ground and scream.

Jodie exhaled. Sweat stung her eyes and she blinked. The bulletproof vest felt constrictive against her ribs. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She put her back on the half wall. She was tucked under an overhang where people could sit by themselves and eat and people-watch. A trail of blood was making its way towards her. The person it was coming from, a middle-aged woman in yoga pants and Lycra top wasn’t moving. She was breathing. Jodie could see the rise and fall of her stomach but she was losing a lot of blood. How much longer would she have? Jodie needed to end this and fast. How to do that? His shotgun against her handgun? The shotgun would win every time. She closed her eyes. People were crying all around her. Her portable chirped continuously. Jodie opened her eyes and getting low to the ground, she peeked around the corner.

Ray was resting the shotgun on Lynda’s back. He was leaning on her making any shot at him difficult. His eyes were scanning the food court and they swept towards her. She pulled back just before (she hoped) they reached her. How was she going to do this?

She leaned out again and noticed Ray standing upright using an elbow on Lynda’s back to keep her still. He was focused on something and whatever it was seemed to be confusing him. His brows were scrunched, his mouth hung open and the barrel of the shotgun was pointed away from Jodie. Now. Now was the time.

She steeled herself to be ready. She brought her feet underneath her so she could pop up and still use the half-wall as cover. She exhaled and popped up, bringing her gun up and putting the sight on Ray, going for the biggest part of his body; his chest. Off to her right, she heard, “Not again!” She knew that voice. The barrel of her gun dipped. She turned to look at Graham, wondering what the hell was he doing here and was that really him walking towards to a man with a shotgun unarmed?

In her peripheral vision she noticed the shotgun barrel swinging to her. She snapped back on Ray but the barrel was already there, the dark eye staring at her, about to deliver her death. She raised her gun anyways, thinking she might get out of this, but knowing in her heart she was a goner.

Graham didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know what he would do. He wasn’t armed. The noise, the screaming, the heavy, familiar scent of gunpowder and the splayed and bleeding bodies removed all common sense from him. He walked ahead, eye focused on the man with the shotgun and the dark clouds circling him and emanating from him were so violent and erratic, it reminded Graham of a flock of disturbed crows. All his concentration was on the man. Graham felt pulled by him, a swirling vortex around the man intent on consuming him. As he walked forward, for some reason, the image of his dad at the table, clutching his chest came to him. He shook it off and continued on with a burning ember of anger igniting and growing within his chest at what he was witnessing. The frightened girl pressed against the counter, face bloody and contorted with pain while the man above her gloated and laughed, actually laughed at her pain and at the mayhem he was causing. All the mourners he was creating with every trigger pull of his shotgun and for what? Why do people do such things? Why the compulsion for cruel destruction? In this moment, Graham truly understood hate because he hated this man in front of him. Hated all the people like him. His stomach roiled with it, his brain heated by it, he continued to walk forward and even when the man stopped scanning the food court, smiling his devil’s smile, to focus his attention on Graham, it did not slow his step. Graham’s fear was replaced with hate. The only thing he knew to do was to keep going forward. The man stopped smiling. He squinted his eyes at Graham and moved the barrel of the shotgun so it was aimed at him. This did not slow Graham’s step. Instead, Graham yelled, “Not again!”

The barrel swung away from him and he followed the arc. Not twenty feet from him stood Jodie. The barrel stopped at her.

Graham yelled, “No!”

And he felt it again, the same sensation that dropped his father except this time it was stronger, a hundred times stronger. It flew from his non-eye, a wave of energy, a wave of heat shooting out of his body towards the gun-toting man and leaving Graham weak and cold. His legs trembled, his arms palsied, a string of drool spilled from Graham’s mouth and the floor rushed up to meet him.

Jodie, expecting a shotgun slug to take her in the face, felt a front of heat pass her, so hot it took the breath from her lungs. In the wake of the heat wave passing, Ray’s head exploded. Blood painted the inside of the stand. Lynda’s piercing scream filled the court. At the same time, Jodie noticed Graham drop to the floor out of the corner of her eye.

Jodie yelled at one of the cops behind the ceramic tree box, “Check on the girl!”

She could hear her screaming. A hysterical, ear-hurting pitch.

Jodie ran to Graham. Blood marred the white tile under his head. He had fallen straight onto his face. She turned him over. His one eye remained open and she smiled, thinking he’s okay until she noticed that he wasn’t breathing. Starting compressions, she yelled, “I need some help here!”