When I was a kid one time in the playground someone started shooting at us. We heard the first shot and looked around because it seemed close and only then saw the long, smoking barrel pointing at us through a second story window. We started to run before we heard the rest of the shots.
I’ve had a few other gun incidents since then, with me on either side of the gun. My favorites were driving into the Arizona desert with a stranger and a loaded pistol we shot at cardboard boxes (it’s illegal to shoot cacti) and shooting an AK-47 in Vietnam ($1/shot). My least favorite was on the subway a few years ago. I think it was the 7 train coming in from Queens.
It was late at night, and I was coming back from a party with a bunch of friends. They got off. I stayed on. Shots broke out in the next car. I dropped to the floor. A fight spilled onto the platform, and two bloody, entwined figures crashed against our car’s windows as they brawled. Blood smeared across the window. We heard more shots, screams, and running, and then we didn’t hear anything until the police came.
The cops announced they were holding the train “for police activity,” and we all transferred to a different train. We had to tiptoe through blood to get off the platform. Scores of us concentrated to avoid small dribbles and large pools of blood all the way down the stairs.
Once we were out we all made friends with other crazy drunk New Yorkers in the middle of the night. After the tension, we burst into camaraderie, all happy to be alive. We traded stories about what we had caused the fight to break out. Over the next few days I found it covered in The New York Times, but I can’t find the links now, so there is no follow up. There seldom is.
Gripping story. kudos to you! My heart is still pounding and I have to remind myself to breathe!