Read Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival for Free Online

strike one of the big, two-story windows on the front of the hospital. The glass shattered, throwing sharp shards into the crowd and raining down on top of the front line security officials guarding the building perimeter. Before the yelling and screaming was over, another projectile was launched from the throng, and a second window exploded, causing even more bedlam. Big Mike radioed back to the station and told dispatch that they had better issue the riot gear and requested more officers be sent immediately. Big Mike gathered up three of his men and advanced to the front of the crowd, never noticing the white truck with the O 2 sign on the door.
     
     
    Ali had just had enough . The events of the day overwhelmed common sense, and he started honking his delivery truck’s horn while inching into the mob. Most people simply moved aside or tried to get out of the way, but eventually his truck bumped into three men who had walked out of a local bar, drinking beer and watching the show. One of them turned around and yelled back at Ali, “Look at this Mexican honking his fucking horn. Go back to Mexico, asshole! If all you fuckers went back home, maybe we would have jobs.” If Ali had not been so angry, being mistaken for a Mexican would have been funny. When the three large men started moving around to the side of his truck, he reached under the seat for the sawed-off shotgun he kept there.
     
     
    Bishop didn’t even try for the front door while pushing the gurney . He had waited on four different elevators before he could finally fit in with Rita. Furthermore, he found it a bit odd that no one riding on the elevator questioned him at all. When he arrived at the main floor, he started pushing Rita toward the side door he had used to enter the building. He found the exit and opened it to look out on the side street. There were lots of people around, and he could hear honking coming from the direction of Fannin Street where the big crowd was gathered. He began pushing Rita out of the door.
    Ali pulled the shotgun out from under the seat at the same time he opened the driver’s door of the truck . He kept one foot on the sideboard as he intended to just show the rednecks the shotgun, not use it. He pulled it out of the cab and started to level it toward the closest of the men.
    Something caught Big Mike’s eye ; and as his head pivoted toward the truck, he saw the driver pull the shotgun out of the cab. Big Mike screamed, “GUN!” at the top of his lungs and tried to pull his 9mm service weapon from its holster, but the closeness of the mob stopped the draw. One of his officers heard the shout, and managed to clear his weapon despite the press of people. His shot went high because he rushed it.
    Ali heard the shot and actually felt the round go over the top of his head . He believed one of the rednecks was shooting at him and began to chamber a round in the pump shotgun. His finger never made it to the trigger.
    Big Mike managed to get his weapon clear as the crowd instinctively moved away from the first shot . This gave him the space he needed. His training kicked in, and his thumb released the safety while his arm brought the weapon in line with the target. He pulled the trigger, and the hammer fell on the firing pin. A 110-grain full metal jacket bullet exited the barrel of the pistol at 1,725 feet per second. It missed Ali low and to the left, passed through the front and back windshield, and struck a full tank of oxygen right below the valve, shearing the stem and causing the slightest spark.
    The escaping oxygen, ignited by the spark, burned its way inside of the tank where there the pure gas fueled an even greater combustion. The steel tank could no longer hold the pressure and exploded , sending searing hot fragments flying into the bed of the delivery truck, piercing the skins of several other full tanks.
    That first, single tank would not have caused a very large explosion , and the damage would have been