The survivor

Ninety-Three

Shen Sun saw the two girls — one dressed in red and black, the other dressed as a nurse. The woman cop was beside them. They were so close. A gift from the spirits.

A gift from Tran.

He adjusted the mask, reached behind his back and felt the gun. The magazine had five rounds left, which was not a lot. He didn’t want to use one single bullet.

Not yet.

With this in mind, Shen Sun cut across the road, snaking in between the partygoers. They danced and stumbled and paraded all around him, each trying to close in on the stage as the band geared up and blasted their music into the night. The burned-gunpowder scent filled Shen Sun’s head as he closed in on his targets.

The woman cop was looking the other way.

In one quick motion, Shen Sun pulled out his Glock. He held it by the barrel, raised it high, then slammed the steel butt down towards the back of her head. She sensed the blow coming, and at the last second turned, but it was too late. The gun smashed into her face with as much force as he could deliver.

Her head snapped hard and she dropped. Both the girls screamed, and suddenly one of the teenage boys dressed in a yellow uniform reached out for Shen Sun. Shen Sun easily pistol-whipped him to the ground. Another boy standing nearby took off through the crowd.

‘Get away from us!’ Courtney screamed. The girls turned and confronted him.

He pointed his pistol at them. ‘Escape is forbidden. If one runs, both die.’

Courtney’s mouth opened and she nodded slowly, as if understanding the command, or at the very least understanding the direness of the situation. Riku Kwan just stood there, her hand over her mouth. Her drunken face was a smear of disbelief.

‘Felicia!’ a voice called. ‘FELICIA!’

Shen Sun turned. He looked south and spotted the gwailo. The cop was rampaging through the crowd. People were flying in his wake. The rage and fear and determination on his face were palpable. Simple escape was no longer an option. He needed something to slow the cop down. A diversion. Chaos. Pandemonium. Like…

A frantic mob.

Shen Sun aimed his pistol. He fired twice, once to the east, where the crowd was massing in front of the stage, and once to the south, where the gwailo was coming from.

The blasts were loud, deafening, unlike any of the firecrackers; and for the first time, people stopped partying. They turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. At his stance. At his mask. At the gun in his hand.

A scream filled the air: ‘She’s been shot — someone shot her. She’s been SHOT!’

And more followed:

‘Gun gun gun — he’s got a GUN!’

‘Fuckin’ nutcase! Run!’

The crowd exploded. Turned mob. Survival instincts took over. The partygoers scrambled in all directions. Dropping their drinks. Fighting for escape. Crushing the others before them.

When Shen Sun turned back to face the girls, they stood frozen. He reached out and grabbed hold of Courtney, pointed his pistol at Riku Kwan.

‘Move away from crowd.’ He flicked his pistol to show the way.

When Riku hesitated, he struck her across the face, splitting her lips.

She let out a wail. ‘Please, we don’t even know-’

‘Move, or be killed!’

He wasn’t sure if she heard him or not, but the pain woke her. She did as instructed. When the crowd thinned, Shen Sun turned the girls through the rolling masses into Grandview Park. Towards the van he had commandeered.

Escape was just a grass field away.