44. The Shot

 Edgley had been storming up the stairwell as fast as he could.  The security guards on the ground floor had let the Edgley's through, once Edgley showed them his STC identification, because, after all, it only made sense.  As slaves, they weren't supposed to think, but both of the security guards had lots of experience dealing with people and Edgley was just the kind of jerk that was normally allowed into the building.

Edgley was dragging Mrs. Edgley up the stairs as fast as she could go in her bare feet, skirt and brassiere.  They were both covered in drying mud.  Edgley was carrying his shirt and pants and SPECTACL, but he hoped to get back into them once he got to the top floor.

"Where's the freaking elevator?" said Mrs. Edgley, breathing heavily.

"The security guard said it's full of sound gear for the next band and there's no room for people in it," said Edgley.  "You think I'd be climbing all these stupid stairs if there was an elevator?"

That's when the Edgleys first felt the vibration from the angry mob below.

The crowd rushing up the stairs was crowded together as thick as the width of the large stadium-sized stairwell could contain -- all the way up 8 stories of stairs.  Tens of thousands of people were jamming into the building, forcing themselves into the stairwell, turning it into a tube of mob that was squirting people up the stairs whether they liked it or not.

The Edgleys looked down and saw a wall of people heading for them at 10 miles an hour.  They tried to pick up the pace, but they ended up jammed against the front of the crowd, rapidly propelled in an upward direction.  Edgley tried to climb up on top of the tall man behind him, pushing his knee into the big man's gut and pulling on the struggling man's head and shoulders.

Fortunately for the crew of the Waste-REL, there was a fence-like scaffolding of black pipe, used to secure everything from power systems to stage lights, between the entrance doors and the stage.  As a consequence, before any emerging members of the angry mob could make the necessary left turn and head toward the main stage, the crowd's momentum pushed them in between the scaffolding and the back wall. 

The freight train of people continued across the back of the stage and up against the far wall that had been placed at the west side of the stage to stop the progress of forklift trucks with skids full of sound gear -- not people.  When the crowd slammed against the wall, Mrs. Edgley was jammed against the bricks, hard.  Mr. Edgley, who had climbed on top of the people behind him, was projected like a slingshot, into the air and, with a very surprised look on his face, his SPECTACL, pants and he were flung into space.  He didn't have enough propulsion to continue his ascent and his flight plan took a turn for the worse.

There was no way to stop the crush of people without being caught up in it yourself because all the force was coming from the angry people at the bottom of the stairs, pushing their way in.  25 people climbed out of and onto the mosh-pit and then jumped or fell off the roof -- into the Waste-REL's deflated re-entry parachutes dangling from the back of the stage.

Lyle could not see that they were landing in a safe place.  They looked like they were jumping to their deaths.

"Stop!!! People are dying!  Stop!" yelled Lyle.  "I'm NOT going to let the aliens kill you!! I'm NOT going to let the aliens kill you!!" yelled Lyle.  "I'm giving you a chance to fix what you've done! I'm NOT going to let the aliens kill you!!"

The crowd slowed their running and screaming.  Lyle stopped pacing. 
Inkelis almost had his shot.

The mob on the stairs crushed to a halt.  Most of those on the roof tripped all over each other and couldn't get loose.  Mrs. Edgley was suffocating; she climbed up the wall and draped her head and shoulders over the edge.  Now she could breath.  She looked down. People were crowding around something strange.  A tent made of orange parachute material was flattened at their feet.  A man's half-naked body was lodged on the tent pole, making him look like a human ice-pop on a stick.  Mrs. Edgley frantically looked into the faces of the crowd behind her, but she knew she wouldn't find him.  Edgley was skewered far below.

"If you really love your children," continued Lyle.  If you really care about anything -- I mean, come-on!  No more over-fishing and clear-cutting of forests and all the other things you've known you had to stop since way before I was even born!"

"Most of all, you absolutely must stop burning all fossil fuels within one Earth year or the aliens will send someone to extinguish the lives of anyone putting the planet at risk.  I'm sorry it has to be this way, but what are they supposed to do? Allow you to reduce this planet to a burnt-out cinder?"

The golden robe began to glow increasingly brighter as Lyle's tone of voice became more excited.

"This means you Boomers must give up power right now!  All power: government, companies, the works.  If you're over sixty and you run cub scouts, you're fired, you blew it-- you're grounded --go to your room! "

Inkelis had his shot lined up.  The red laser dot lit up Lyle's forehead.  On the big projection the dot was 5 metres wide.

"Don't worry," said Lyle, growing calmer now just as the robe became almost too bright to look at.  "The punishment that the aliens meant for you must be meted out.  This robe is loaded and the timer is set for right now."  Lyle looked down at the mass of people below him as they cringed in anticipation.  "Just so you know -- this is tough love."  Lyle smiled.

That's when Portia saw the tag on the garment.  In less than a second she saw the seam and she reached out yelling  "Lyle, NO, it's inside-ow…"

Mickey grabbed for Portia and caught her jacket as she tried to tear away, "He knows, Porsh!  HE KNOWS!"

The robe exploded into a shaft of blinding, pure light that reached straight up into the heavens, cracked apart a hole in the clouds and split the air louder than thunder.  One second Lyle was there.  The next second: no Lyle.  No robe.  Gonzo.

At that same exact second, Inkelis squeezed the trigger.  The bullet passed through the shaft of light, punched into Portia's skull and laid a cavern through the right side of her head.  She fell backwards as if punched, pulled out of Mickey's grasp and landed on her shoulder, crumpled on the rubber flooring.

Mickey screamed.  Ayame and Verna screamed.  The crowd on the roof screamed and started another panic of attempted escapes that forced more people to jump into the parachute slings.  Mrs. Edgley almost fell from atop the wall but was grabbed by the brassiere strap at the last second.

Donny and Mickey fell to their knees beside Portia.  Donny put his head to her chest.  Mickey kissed her.

"She's alive," they said in unison. 

"We need a DOCTOR!"

Verna grabbed up the microphone.  "We need a doctor up here!! Portia's been shot!"

Inkelis lowered his rifle, aghast, but it was too late.  He turned to see Mr. John Summers' fist smash his face into unconsciousness.  The crowd near Inkelis went from overwhelmed awe to furious indignation.  Inkelis was lucky they didn't tear him apart right there on the muddy, tent-strewn ground.  As it was, they grabbed him roughly, and upwards of 30 men dragged him and his gun towards the festival's police booth.

John and Hailey Summers pushed their way toward the stage.  Hailey was in tears.  It was terrible to be stoned when someone had just shot your child.  Very terrible.

Next: Triage