Even though he’d only understood “Glenda” and “go,” Elle hadn’t had to ask twice.
Glenda had welcomed the chance to leave her real estate agency early. “This works out great. A group of friends from my Pilates class is having a girls’ night out. We’re going to the concert this evening. I’ll join you and Charlie, then hook up with them later.”
They’d set a time and place to meet just inside the north gate. Glenda, president and CEO of Foster Real Estate, had arrived looking like a model for an upscale western clothing store, wearing a long denim skirt, cowboy boots studded with silver, a fringed leather jacket, and ropes of turquoise beads.
“You make me feel underdressed,” Elle had remarked with a self-deprecating smile. “And very mom-ish.”
Glenda had eyed her up and down. “If you’d wear one size jeans smaller, your ass would be smokin’.”
“Hardly.”
“I would trade my butt for yours any day of the week. And don’t get me started on your hair. It’s just not fair. However, the T-shirt needs an upgrade, and you could use some spangle.”
Elle laughed. “Spangle so suits my lifestyle.”
For the next two hours, the friends had taken turns maneuvering Charlie’s stroller through the crowd. They’d visited the petting zoo, the Christmas market, and various exhibits, leaving the midway for last just as the sun went down and the sky turned a deep violet.
Flashing colored lights on the rides had begun to come on, dazzling Charlie. He and Elle had ridden several rides in the kiddie area while Glenda took snapshots on her phone to text to Elle later. Hands down, the carousel had been his favorite ride. It was a good note to end on.
Now, as Elle hugged her friend goodbye, Glenda said, “I’ve spotted lots of cute guys around. Put yourself out there, Elle.”
“I already have a cute guy,” she said as she bent down and ruffled Charlie’s dark curls.
“There’s no disputing that,” Glenda said. “He is a darlin’. Be careful going home. Love you.”
“Call me tomorrow and tell me about the concert.”
“Will do.” Glenda blew them a kiss as she began weaving through the crowd in the general direction of the beer garden.
Elle experienced a twinge of jealousy over her friend’s independence and having a Friday night out. But three years ago she’d made a choice, and she hadn’t had a moment’s regret over it.
When she looked down at Charlie, who was yawning hugely, her heart swelled with pure joy. She bent down and nuzzled his neck. “Mommy loves you bunches and bunches. Ready to go home?”
He kicked against the footrest of his stroller. “Go.”
“I’m afraid it’ll be slow going.” She turned the stroller around as deftly as she could without bumping into anyone.
The crowd grew thicker as they neared the north gate through which they’d entered. Though there were separate turnstiles for entering and exiting, where those who were coming in and those leaving converged, they formed two throngs moving in opposition. Elle and Charlie were swimming upstream of those entering, and eventually their progress was limited to gaining only inches at a time.
“Looks like they’re gonna have a good crowd tonight.”
The speaker was a gentleman who was shuffling along beside her. He had a round and ruddy face. A horseshoe of gray hair delineated his wide, shiny bald spot. Bridging his nose was a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses, the lenses of which reflected the spinning Ferris wheel. At a time when he could have been cranky and complaining, he’d spoken with good humor.
Elle smiled at him. “Bryce Conrad is a big draw.”
“Yeah.” He winked at her. “I think we’re escaping just in time.”
She returned his mischievous smile, but her attention was returned to Charlie, who was trying to climb out of his stroller.
“No, Charlie. No, you can’t get out.”
He resisted her attempts to push him back down into the seat and was having no part of her explanation as to why he had to remain confined. Eventually, she won the battle and straightened up, looking with hope toward the exit and gauging how much longer she could hold out before Charlie had a full-blown tantrum.
“Excuse me.”
The irritated mumble came from Elle’s other side as someone going in the opposite direction bumped into her. She turned to respond, but he had already moved past. He stood out from everyone else because he was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. An executive sort, she thought.
That was Elle’s last thought before the bang.
It was abrupt and loud.
At first, she thought it was a sound effect coming from one of the thrill rides. When it was repeated, she thought perhaps it was fireworks going off. But they weren’t scheduled to start until after the concert.
Confused, she turned to the older man with whom she’d been talking. His hand was at his throat. Blood was spouting from between his fingers. A geyser of it splashed onto Elle.
He staggered, falling hard against her and causing her to reel backward. She caught the push bar of the stroller with her left hand and put out her right to try to break her fall. But on impact with the blacktop, her elbow gave way. Her landing was so jarring, she bit her tongue and tasted blood. She lost her left-handed grip on the stroller.
The older man’s momentum caused him to fall against the stroller and propel it forward. It began to roll, knocking into people who were now madly scattering.
Someone shouted, “Shooter, shooter.”
It took only a split second for Elle to register that the unthinkable was actually happening. “Charlie!”
She lunged forward, reaching out in a frantic effort to get a handhold on any part of the stroller, but it was already beyond her reach and rolling farther away from her. Between her and it was the older man, who had fallen facedown and was now still, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
In a remote area of her mind that was still functioning, Elle realized that he was dead. But without thinking, without an instant of hesitancy, she crawled over his prone form, her hands and sneakers slipping on his blood. She couldn’t gain purchase. Something was wrong with her right arm.
The stroller was being buffeted by the stampede of terrified people. The distance between it and Elle was widening, and she couldn’t get to it, to Charlie, to her baby.
Directly in front of her, a man fell, his leg shot out from under him. He bellowed in pain as he went down. Her screams couldn’t be differentiated from those of others who were equally panicked and mortally afraid. But she could distinguish those of her child. He was wailing.
“Charlie, I’m coming! Mommy’s coming! Char-lie!”
A fleeing man wearing a ball cap ran into the stroller, striking the side of it with his knees.
Elle watched in helpless terror as the stroller tipped onto two wheels.
The executive type who’d bumped into her lurched into Elle’s peripheral vision, reached out for the stroller, and managed to get a grasp on the bar.
But inertia sent the carriage onto its side and took the man down with it.
He fell atop it.
Elle screamed hysterically.
She heard the raw, primal screams of others. The ground vibrated with the tramping of hundreds of feet.
For Elle Portman, pandemonium turned into a horror movie played out in slow motion.