Big Bertha
By Wakefield Mahon
Big Bertha, that’s what the boys called her in school. I thought she had moved out of Folmun. I certainly didn’t expect to see her in line at First National Bank.
“Hello Lupe.” Her lips never moved.
So she knew. All those years in school, I could read her mind; I knew what the boys did to Beatrice after school. I never stood up for her.
A gunshot interrupted my guilty pity party. I’d been so focused on her, I hadn’t noticed the man, but now his anxiety hit me like a wall.
A teller triggered an audible alarm and the robber panicked. He shot the teller and a guard who was fumbling for his sidearm. Then he started shooting customers at random.
Beatrice glanced at me and transmitted a single thought. “The quality of mercy is not strained.” Before I understood what she meant, she launched herself forward, tackling the gunman and taking several shots to the chest in the process.
Spurred by her action, I wrestled the gun away and subdued the stunned attacker with the help of a few other customers.
The police and paramedics were on their way but by the silence in my head, I knew she was already gone. The peaceful look on her face still haunts my nightmares.
I guess you could say that’s why I joined the force. I won’t, I can’t let her example, her sacrifice, go unanswered. I will never stand by and let an innocent person get hurt again.
250 Words from the world of Full Moon City
By Wakefield Mahon
Big Bertha, that’s what the boys called her in school. I thought she had moved out of Folmun. I certainly didn’t expect to see her in line at First National Bank.
“Hello Lupe.” Her lips never moved.
So she knew. All those years in school, I could read her mind; I knew what the boys did to Beatrice after school. I never stood up for her.
A gunshot interrupted my guilty pity party. I’d been so focused on her, I hadn’t noticed the man, but now his anxiety hit me like a wall.
A teller triggered an audible alarm and the robber panicked. He shot the teller and a guard who was fumbling for his sidearm. Then he started shooting customers at random.
Beatrice glanced at me and transmitted a single thought. “The quality of mercy is not strained.” Before I understood what she meant, she launched herself forward, tackling the gunman and taking several shots to the chest in the process.
Spurred by her action, I wrestled the gun away and subdued the stunned attacker with the help of a few other customers.
The police and paramedics were on their way but by the silence in my head, I knew she was already gone. The peaceful look on her face still haunts my nightmares.
I guess you could say that’s why I joined the force. I won’t, I can’t let her example, her sacrifice, go unanswered. I will never stand by and let an innocent person get hurt again.
250 Words from the world of Full Moon City
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