seeing. She told him to stay safe and that reinforcements were on the way.

 

She had obviously never been in the military. Staying safe was not in the job

description. Quite the reverse, actually.

 

People were running past him, away from the gunfire. Puller checked each one to

see if they had a weapon. None did. They were obviously frightened and simply

trying to get away alive. Mass shootings had seemingly become ubiquitous in

America, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with when you happened to be

smack in the middle of one.

 

Puller drew closer to the entrance to the bar, which appeared to be the

epicenter of the gunfire. As he went he passed figures on the ground, knelt,

checked pulses, and kept going.

 

Some were alive; some were dead. He had nothing to triage the living. His only

plan was to try to prevent any more dead or wounded.

 

He saw the flash of movement to his right a split second too late.

 

The gun was kicked out of his hands.

 

He turned to see the knife coming at his throat.

 

Anyone else would have simply been killed.