Tracking Logan Foster

{1} Angel With a Shotgun

A sharp clink of metal in the cold, night air had my back stiffening and my breathing become sporadic as I froze, slowly lifting my hands above my head, palms out in surrender as if my life depended on it.

Because it did.

My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest as I braced myself, grinding my teeth and trying to huddle inside the suffocating winter jacket I wore. Frost bit my nose and my teeth chattered as I braced for the inevitable release of the bullet from the gun I knew was targeted on my back.

I didn't have the chance to prepare myself when the deafening shot rang out. The breath was knocked out of my lungs as my legs were swept out from underneath me, crashing my body to the snow ridden ground where I laid motionless with my eyes squeezed shut.

As soft as a cloud, the snow welcomed me in its embrace, billowing all around me in some twisted form of a coffin. In that moment, I believed I was in heaven, floating on a cloud as my soul continued on the beginning of its infinitesimal journey in the afterlife.

I waited for the excruciating pain in my back that was bound to ignite after sinking a bullet to that very spot, but there was not an ounce of pain.

Was I in shock? Was I already dead?

My arms laid trapped under my body which gave a sense of mild discomfort. Wiggling my fingers, I planted my hands on the frozen ground and gave a mighty shove, rolling over on my back to once again be blessed by the moonlight.

Upon the sudden realization dawned on me that I wasn't dead, my body bucked, bolting straight up as I miraculously climbed to my feet. The snow easily rose to my knees, beckoning me back down to my casket where I had risen from the dead.

Another thought occurred to me; if the bullet hadn't hit me, then where had it gone? I hadn't even heard the whizzing of the bullet passing my body had it obviously missed.

I spun around in a circle, eyes critically scanning the immediate area around me for the gunman. When I couldn't see anyone, I knew that was just as dangerous had I actually caught sight of the sniper.

Adrenaline kicked in my bloodstream, giving my legs the strength to pummel through the knee-high snow as if it were made of feathers as the fight-or-flight response kicked in, sending me far away from the danger.

I didn't make it very far before my body collided with a sturdy wall that I hadn't been able to see without the source of light the lampposts should have been providing on campus.

The fact that I knew the school grounds like the back of my hand and was still able to ram right into the side of building proved just how terrified I was.

I tumbled to the ground once again getting buried beneath the shocking cold of the snow only to sit up moments later to find a scene that would forever be ingrained in my mind.

Sitting against the brick wall of the high school building, a boy with hair a few shades darker than the snow he sat in, had his finger inched along the trigger of the sleek, black pistol positioned in his mouth.

I felt my legs wobble as if they were made of jelly, and almost lost purchase on the ground as his finger continued to move closer to the trigger.

A fire ignited in my veins, spurning my body into action without permission from my brain. Reacting without the ability to logically think through the situation, I dove after the boy and tackled him to the ground, knocking the gun from his mouth.

Falling right through the snow, my back painfully landed on the layer of ice beneath it. I felt the ice shudder under my weight before shattering as I laid there, trying to catch my breath which was near to impossible when a second weight was adding pressure on top of me.