Kaitlyn didn't hear the gun shot. She didn't even see a sign of the shooter or the weapon itself. But she was knocked to the side a little as the body zipped through the air. It bumped her into the wall as the body was yanked back from the sheer force of the bullet's impact. She was almost knocked off balance and if it wasn't for the wall she would have fallen full over.
From the size of the wound, the force of the blow; she'd already made the guess that it was a fifty caliber rifle that had done this. Realistically she had been surprised that she was able to take that much in. The second the body flipped back through the crowd like a rag doll the crowded Atlanta Street had erupted into a torrent of panic.
She stumbled to her feet glancing back at the huddle of Secret Service Agents encircling the body, their black suits marked with blood in some places. The Agents were yelling over the sounds of the cars and their horns and every other commotion of the crowd, "Mr. President! Mr. President!"
The President was already dead. His arm had ripped off at the socket, which was close to where the bullet had torn through his flesh. The street was covered in his still hot blood, his shredded arm laying at the center of the puddle. The body had actually been thrown several feet from the arm.
His wife fell to her knees at the edge of the blood puddle, sobbing and covered in speckles of crimson from the initial splatter of the gunshot. Her blonde hair was pulled to one side and blood slathered. She grabbed at his arm in a daze, her eyes blind with tears, "Jack needs this…he needs his arm!" she said in a calm and delirious voice. Kaitlyn knew right then that her mind was gone for sure, but then again who could blame her?
Things flew into even more of a frenzy. People seemed to not have known exactly what happened at first. But then shouts of, "The President's been shot," finally came to resonate with most of the crowd. What followed was an outlandish madness, the effects of which reverberated off the buildings that lined the street.
Now Kaitlyn needed to center herself, she knew this. She started to try and suppress thoughts of the people around her, of the sounds they were making and the screaming. She scanned the horizon now, with the way she had been standing when the assassin's bullet had whizzed past she remembered feeling it move past. It came from the West.
There were a lot of things out that way, but as she squinted against the setting sun she spotted something erect into the sky with the light pinching at it from around the sides. It was the one thing that stuck out as having the perfect view and the clearest shot was a Church bell tower, "Bingo."
The police that had been watching over the President were forcing people back, keeping them from crowding the body. The sidewalk was alive with masses of people. Every face that she could see, every face visible was he perfect picture of confusion. She pushed those faces to the back of her mind and pulled her Beretta.
As the sun glinted off the cold, clean metal of her gun she spotted someone rushing towards her screaming, "Oh God, what do you do?"
Before the man could make impact with her she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and slammed him to the ground harshly, "Everyone stay out of the way!" she yelled as she brushed her blonde hair back with her gun and pushed against the crowd. So many people were moving in so many different directions that it resembled a sea. She was caught in a rip tide of human flesh.
She brought her gun down aimed at the ground and with her shoulders leveled like a football player she charged into people knocking them back. She wasn't a big woman, but she knew how to take a hit.
The road was gridlocked, cars stopped parked with their passengers watching in confusion and unable to move. When she had enough room she sprinted down an open strip of the sidewalk. Ripped up newspapers and shreds of trash whipped around her in the wind as she ran and jumped up on to the hood of a parked car. On the moment of her impact the car alarm was set off. The change in sound wasn't even that noticeable.
She wished right then that she had followed regulations and not worn heels that day. It wasn't her fault that she had wanted to feel pretty on the day that someone chose to shoot the President.
Her feet pounded against the glass of the window as she charged up it, running over the top of the car. The car made sounds, bending slightly under her feet as she ran. Her legs pumped and she held the gun back up at the ready.
Out in the street people tried to climb atop whatever it was they were near to try and see. Cars went off from people getting on them. Some of them got a little of the ways up light poles and others were hanging out the windows of building's just to get a glance. Her concentration was wavering now.
She looked to the west and could see the steeple of the Church again, it seemed more apparent now. Her pale blue eyes leveled on the tower of the building and right as she started to run again the car jolted sharply. Her heel's didn't ring true and she slid down onto her back hitting her head and causing her gun to discharge into the air.
The gunfire drove the crowd into further panic. Kaitlyn fell from the car, losing her grip on the gun and letting it fall somewhere off to the side. She grabbed for the back of her head, falling from the car onto the sidewalk on her back. The jolt of pain rippled through her body and took the air from her lungs.
She clutched at her shoulder, it had taken a lot of the impact in the fall. The crowd moved like a massive sea around her. If she couldn't get back to her feet soon she would be trampled for sure. Her hand went down and she struggled to her feet. The crowd was never in the same place twice. They were always moving and pulsing. When she got back to her feet she tried to blend into the crowd in the hopes he hadn't seen her. Right then she realized what had happened.
The sniper had taken the shot right when she'd looked at where he was. He'd only missed because she'd started to run again but the force of the bullet hitting the car had been enough to throw her wobbly feet in those heels off balance.
A helicopters blades whipping at the air joined the conglomerate of sounds. Kaitlyn looked up to see the thing circling far to close to the street. Somewhere else, over the sound of the Melee she could hear a reporter crying out, "The President has been shot!" the words were repeated after that.
She slapped her hand to her earpiece, "This is Agent Brenham, I think the shots came from that Church to the West."
No response came and she was moving again. Damn them, she had to do this on her own. The Secret Service Agent charged through the now dispersing crowds, her arm out in case she needed to block and oncoming person. The Church was a mile off, there was no way she would make it in time.
Nonetheless she tried. She ran until her legs tightened at the back of the calves and the sound of her heart was all that she could hear. The cool autumn air whizzed around her whipping her hair up into her face and she knocked it down.
Then about seventy yards out in front of her a car exploded into the air in a ball of fire. The car got clear into the air and slammed back down on the street sending out a wall of flames in several directions. Then another car closer to her did the same, this one landed on some people and she could see them smashed under the burning hunk of twisted metal.
She dropped back as the car nearest to her attempted to bounce up onto her. The car barely missed, landing up on the edge of a newspaper machine as she back pedaled out of the way. The sniper was shooting the cars now, trying to create a distraction, she thought. People had been set on fire too, trying to put themselves out.
Now she was screaming in her headset again, "That's his distraction! The cars!" she didn't expect a response this time and she didn't get one.
By this time it would be too late, the police and Secret Service had a Hell of a mess to deal with and the sniper would be escaping into the streets, finding some way out and blending in. There was no hope in catching up to him today.
When she looked back to the scene where the President Sierra was he was being loaded onto a stretcher. The other Secret Service Agents had to restrain his wife as she fought to keep them from taking him away from her. Her cries were madness in the form of spoken word.
Kaitlyn dropped back against the side of the wall and slapped her hand to her forehead, "My first fucking day here…damn it."