THE CARGO DOOR of the vehicle burst open and armed gendarmes leaped in. Mischa's restraints were removed and she was carried out of the vehicle by guards on either side of her. In the open air, the smell of burning gasoline filled her nostrils and the chaotic shouts of the turbulent crowd drowned out the thumping of her pulse.359Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD9M4X47C0e
Through the blur of activity, people dashing madly about and shouting and colliding violently with riot police, it was clear that Mischa was being steered toward the rear vehicle in the convoy which thus far was intact. But between the vehicle and them were six men, wild-eyed in their rage, who now had Mischa in their sights. The riot police, trying to intercept them, fired on them. Two of the protesters took bullets in the chest and fell backwards. One of them ran from the riot troopers and hurled an object at her, a brick that hit one of the guards to Mischa's left. He fell to his knee and she went down with him, as he was holding her arm. On the ground, Mischa picked up the up the brick because she figured she should have a weapon of her own. The guard pulled her to her feet and they tried to navigate forward.
Another man, shouting wildly, tackled the riot police head-on, lunging at their shields and receiving swats from their nightsticks for their trouble. The noise had grown deafening, the movement of the people a dizzying hodgepodge of desperation, rage and fear.
But then there was the man just outside of the immediate scuffle, who, for a split second, seemed not to move at all, clearly oblivious to the turmoil around him. That was the man who, by his stony pose, drew Mischa's attention. That was the man who lifted his shirt and revealed a nickel-plated revolver!
He widened his stance and drew the gun from his waistband. Mischa wasn't able to speak but her arm was working fine. By the time he was raising the pistol, she had thrown the brick at him. It grazed his shoulder, startling him more than anything, but it was enough to throw off his aim. The gun went off in the air while he regained his balance. Then one of the gendarmes fired and hit him. Blood splattered from his torso and he dropped to the ground. Riot troopers converged on him, separating him from the gun, flipping him over, and cuffing him.
The bloodshed seemed to scatter the remainder of the protesters from the immediate area and Mischa ran, with two guards, to the rear vehicle in the convoy. They hustled her into the backseat, did a quick U-turn, and floored it.
She looked back through the rear windows. Flames on the street, one vehicle on fire, several protesters lying prone, others still fighting with the riot police.359Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgvTyCb1nwz
"You are----safe," said the guard next to her, panting, as they sped away.359Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeHy4JXMSJT
"Safe?" For now, maybe. But Mischa was beginning to wonder if she was even going to trial live.359Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvtO4tfQ5MM
