The Reading Garden - Single Title
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Important notice: All excerpts have been submitted by the author.
Author: Margery Harkness Casares
CHAPTER ONE
NORWICH, GEORGIA - JUNE, 1993
Maura Sinclair glanced at the tower clock as she jogged onto the
university campus toward the science lab parking area. Almost seven.
Even at that early hour the heat was oppressive. She labored to draw
the sultry air into her lungs and blew at tendrils of sweat-dampened
hair that escaped her headband and fell into her eyes. A tiny rivulet
of perspiration trickled a path between her breasts.
A sudden sharp blast jerked Maura's head up. A man who jogged
ahead of her, twisted awkwardly, and slammed to the ground. His blood
spilled out on the walkway in an ever widening splash of color. A
staccato burst of gunshots froze Maura where she stood. Her heart
jumped into her throat.
For a dreadful moment she stood paralyzed while her brain registered
the wild chaotic disorder that followed: screams, shouts, more
gunshots. The few people on campus at that early hour scattered in
terrified erratic flight.
She thought she screamed but didn't recognize her own voice in the
hysterical outcries that pierced her ears. Her shocked mind seemed to
be locked on the blistering heat of the sun that seared her exposed skin
and on the breath that was caught in her throat.
She looked up instinctively at the university tower and saw the man
with the rifle. The image fixed itself indelibly in her brain. Bullets
thudded into the ground at her feet. She fled from the tower, running
so hard a needle of pain stabbed her side. It all seemed to be
happening in slow motion.
But it couldn't be happening! Tomorrow was to be the most
important day of her life; she couldn't die today, not like this.
A quick look over her shoulder told her the campus area was now
clear, except for those who lay wounded, and an awesome silence hovered
in the air.
A car pulled into a parking slot. Maura raced toward it. A man whose
attention was focused on papers he held, got out of the car and stepped
up on the curb. He walked onto the sunlit grass of the campus.
Maura hurdled a low bush and tackled him. He fell back under
fragrant white-blossomed azaleas with her sprawled on top of him.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Can't we talk about this?" Startled gray
eyes behind gold-framed glasses reflected his surprise. He rubbed the
shoulder that took most of the impact of the fall.
"Lie still," she pleaded. "Don't move."
"That's a rather difficult order, especially with you lying on top
of me."
"Please!" The high pitch of her voice echoed her anxiety. She
quickly rolled off him.
Bullets whined through the hot air. "My God! Are those gunshots?"
he asked, sharply alert now.
Maura's breath fluttered from her lungs. Her heart thudded. "Yes.
A sniper."
"Sniper?" She watched incredulity etch his classic features and
darken his slate gray eyes to a hue of old pewter. He repeated the word
slowly as though he must test the sound of it before his brain could
assimilate it. He lay beside her under the covering foliage, his mouth
grim, his eyes bright. A muscle in his jaw tightened. He lay so near
her that when he moved his lips brushed her cheek, and Maura was aware
of a faint scent of after shave on his tanned face and a hint of mint on
his breath.
His arm went about her protectively and she clung to him, comforted by
his strength.
Sirens split the air, screaming in from all directions. Police,
ambulances, firefighters, rescue equipment, and media vehicles converged
on the scene.
"Where is the sniper?" he asked. "Do you know?"
"He's on the tower. I was looking . . . I can't breathe." She
pressed a hand to her breast and drew air into her lungs.
"I was looking for a place to hide when I saw you get out of your car.
I knew you had no idea what was going on."
"You might have made it to a safer spot, if you hadn't--"
"No. This was the only cover nearby, and I ran for it."
He lifted his head. His gaze searched the tower. A hail of
bullets slammed into the ground near them.
"Stay down," she pleaded, "don't give him a target."
Inching closer to her, he said gently, "We'll be okay."
With his body wedged against hers, Maura felt less distressed. She
inhaled deeply and asked, "Why don't the police do something?"
"They're probably trying to get a fix on his exact location and
determine the range of his weapon."
Maura parted the leaves of a bush and saw the door of a patrol car
open. An officer got out. Bullets sprayed the area. The awful sound of
metal striking metal chilled her. She stared helplessly as the officer
clutched his chest and fell against the side of his vehicle, then out of
sight. Her hand flew to her mouth.
Someone screamed.
Maura's gaze followed the long line of official vehicles as they
moved farther down the street. The area exposed to her view was now
filled with police and medics. Camera equipment and reporters were
everywhere. A police helicopter hovered overhead, quickly joined by a
second one carrying a television camera crew, and a third, the SWAT
Team.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She inhaled deeply and nodded. "I can't get enough air, and my
hands won't stop shaking. I hope something is done before anyone else
is hurt."
"I'm sure everything possible is being done."
She pressed her trembling fingertips to her tense mouth hoping to
stem her rising fear. "Can we make it to your car, do you think?"
"I don't want to try. See those medics? They've come for the
injuried officer behind a shield."
Maura watched through the foliage as the injured man was rescued.
Bullets ping-pinged into the emergency vehicle that pulled away from the
curb. Sirens wailed and throbbed and left her ears ringing. Her breath
escaped in a spasm of little shudders. The sweet scent of the blossoms
were suddenly too cloyingly sweet, and her stomach churned.
He pressed her hand. His grip was strong and warm. "Don't worry.
We'll be okay."
"How long do you think we'll have to be here like this?" She was
aware of his magnetic, intelligent eyes that studied her, and the shadow
of a smile that lifted the corners of his wide, firm mouth.
"Shouldn't be too long. I wouldn't mind this at all under
different circumstances. Here I was, thinking you found me so
attractive you couldn't control yourself, and all the time it was just a
bad guy with a gun."
She laughed. The sound startled her. Biting at her bottom lip,
she confessed, "It was mostly reflex action."
He chuckled, "Thanks, anyway. Since we're fated to be close, I'm Simon
Boyd, professor and research biochemist here at the university."
She clasped his hand and noticed that her own no longer shook.
"I'm Anna Maura Sinclair." Now, why did I tell him my full name?
"Don't call me Anna," she added quickly. "I'm marketing consultant for
SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals."
"I occasionally test a product for your company, Maura Sinclair."
She nodded and smiled faintly. "My left side is numb. I can't
stay in this position much longer. What are they doing? Can you see?"
"Not very well. There's a great deal of activity. Some of the
uniforms I see are those of the SWAT Team. It won't take long for them
to move up close enough to get inside the tower. I also see armed men
on top of the administration building. If the sniper shows himself now,
he's dead."
A sudden burst of bullets ripped through the azaleas. A loud thud,
and a hiss like air rushing from a balloon, ended with a whispered
"Oh". Maura clutched at the fire in her left shoulder, brought her
hands up and stared at the blood that dripped down her arm and
discolored the white petals.
"No!" Simon's protest was quick and harsh. "No, you can't be
hit!"
She saw his shock and outrage and anger. She looked at him in
confusion, not sure what had happened. Everything was misty, as if the
sun unexpectedly hid itself behind a cloud.
Simon pulled her shirt away from the wound to inspect the damage.
"What happened?" she breathed, her words barely above a whisper.
"You were shot, but don't be alarmed, it was a clean shot. You're
bleeding badly, and I need to slow the flow of blood. Don't worry, I'm
a medical doctor. I know how to do this and I'll try not to hurt you,
okay?"
She nodded weakly.
Simon quickly folded his handkerchief into a pad and pressed it firmly
over the gaping wound. He lifted her gently into his arms, covered her
with his own body and ran in a crouch toward the end of the row of
bushes near the curb.
Bullets struck the ground all around them, and dirt clods leaped
into the air. He laid Maura under the covering hedges and shouted to
get attention. "We need help! Over here in the azalea garden."
His shouts drew the sniper fire again. Leaves and blossoms
exploded from the bushes. An ambulance pulled to the curb beside them.
Paramedics arrived behind the protective shield. Simon lifted Maura
into his arms, and his voice was quietly reassuring as he whispered in
her ear. "Don't be afraid. You'll be okay. Trust me."
He got into the ambulance with her. © 1997
* * *
*About the author: My name is Margery Harkness Casares. I am unpublished in romance
but I have had three horror short stories published. Each won first
place in a contest and a small amount of money--three years in a row. I
have also been a winner in five romance contests. Write to Margery Harkness Casares.
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