MISCHA QUICKLY DRESSED and Josette handcuffed her to the cot. She and Josette rushed out, bolting the door behind them. Mischa dragged the cot toward the window and used her free hand to open the shutter.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCXYGFID90f
If Mischa hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it. The rooftop lights were all turned on. A searchlight coming from the prison yard provided further illumination, sweeping across the midnight sky as it tried to stay locked on the helicopter hovering over the rooftop.
The chopper was blue with white trim. A rope dangled down from the chopper and a woman was climbing it, struggling as the rope swayed from side to side and the chopper bobbed like a buoy in the ocean. From the chopper, gunfire erupted from some kind of rifle toward the courtyard. The guards in the towers on each side of the front gate, to her right, had opened fire on the chopper. The woman was struggling to climb the ladder. She was thickset and her ponytail....wait.....
"Lise," said Mischa. Her cellmate Lise was escaping. Right----she'd been working late in the library, which was in the back of the prison.
The gunfire abated from the guard tower nearest Mischa. Had somebody been shot? Mischa didn't know. Guards in the tower on the other flank were still firing on the helicopter, sparks flying off the chopper's body as it bobbed and spun, making it hard for Lise to climb.
She was halfway up the rope when the helicopter rose. A decision by the pilot. Escaping with Lise dangling from the rope was preferable to being shot out of the sky.
Right decision, but too late. A burst of flame came from the chopper's rear and it began to spin out of control. The chopper rose a bit higher and then veered sharply to its left, toward the courtyard, moving almost sideways through the air and losing altitude.
Mischa averted her eyes but not in time. She saw Lise lose her grip on the ladder and fly through the air before plummeting to the courtyard face-first. Her eyes moved away just as she saw Lise's head burst open on impact. One moment later, the helicopter crashed down on its nose, not twenty yards from Lise's body, bursting into flames.
Mischa felt the heat on her face, the sting in her eyes. This was happening right in front of her, not thirty yards away. The tactical-response guards didn't stop shooting into the helicopter until the fire department showed up, maybe twenty minutes later, spraying the orange flames and dark clouds of smoke until nothing was left but a melted and twisted bird.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4sqrXnZZla
Mischa closed the shutter as the smoke drifted toward her, closing her nose to the putrid stench of burned gasoline. It reminded her of the Molotov cocktails, of the attack on the police convoy during the (so-called) trial. But Mischa Barton would live to see another day.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaDPGIhxT0N
Lise Dieudonné would not.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzXBHJLKnpt
