It Was Just Four Minutes

TRIGGER WARNING **GUN VIOLENCE** TRIGGER WARNING

(NO PUN INTENDED)

**ALSO PHYSICAL VIOLENCE**

Ricky Hoult was not a guy's guy. He was not tough, or badass, and he didn't like sports or NASCAR or gambling or anything that he construed as being stuff typical guys liked. He didn't know how to change a tire or refill his washer fluid. He had no idea how to fix a toilet or a leaky faucet. He didn't know how to fight and would probably get his ass handed to him if he did get into a fight.

None of this bothered him in the slightest. He knew this about himself and didn't care. He called other people to fix his faucets and toilets and paid them for the service. He took his car in for oil changes where they refilled his washer fluid and if he happened to get a flat, he called for a tow truck. He avoided confrontation and therefore avoided fights. And he didn't watch sports or listen to sports radio and neither did any of his friends so it never so much as entered his sphere.

He was polite, well spoken, tidy. He was of average height and build; he did exercise regularly but it was only for his health and mobility, no one could accuse him of being a gym rat or an enthusiast. He ate well enough, took his vitamins, drank plenty of water, slept well, didn't drink to excess, and had certainly never smoked or consumed drugs. He had a few hobbies but no real passions. He kept his life simple and neat and he liked it like that.

What he was good at was numbers. He always had been and it had led quite organically to his major in college and then his career; he was an accountant. He had his CMA and was proud of the fact that he'd passed both exams on the first go around. His scores had been relatively high and he was proud of that, too. It had come with a lot of discipline and sacrifice but had been worth it.

He was working at his current role as a junior accountant for Global Crossing Freight Management (GCFM) and was up for a promotion. He was certain that he would bag it; his reviews for the past three years he'd been with the company had been exemplary, he had taken leadership roles in team projects, he was well received by clients and management both. He felt he was well on track in his career trajectory.

Ricky, who went by Richard professionally but always thought of himself as Ricky, had arrived at the office and had settled into his cubicle before he remembered he hadn't brought in coffee this morning. He liked to stop at café on the corner down the street from the office building where he worked when he had time (dependent on how well the trains were running), but the lines had been unusually long that morning and he hadn't wanted to be late. He had decided to just make a cup once he got into the office. The coffee here was fine, he just really enjoyed the coffee from that café.

He eyed the time display in the corner of his computer screen and decided he had time to make a cup before he started on his first report. He worked better with a cup of coffee, he felt. So at 9:03 am, Ricky Hoult got up from his desk and walked through the maze of cubicles to the break room.

There were a few others in there; Dianne Sherman from marketing was in there with Alex Braderson and McKenzie Dursky. They greeted him cordially enough, and he returned their greeting. Alex moved aside so that Ricky could access the coffee machine and he had just reached for the display of pods when a shattering BOOM rang out.

Immediately there were screams and Ricky spun around, knocking over the pods display, Dianne screamed loudly and Alex flung out both hands as if to ward something off while McKenzie just looked startled.

Another BOOM followed by more screaming. Dianne dropped to her knees with her hands covering her ears, her cup of juice spilling and spreading all over the floor and into the knees of her pristine white slacks. Alex ran to the entryway and McKenzie set her cup of coffee down carefully and stepped away from the cowering Dianne. She looked up at Ricky, wide-eyed and said something, but he couldn't hear her over shrieking Dianne and the screaming coming from the office. Someone was yelling something, loud and angry.

Ricky's eyes darted to the digital clock above the entryway and saw it still said 9:03 am. Alex had turned around and yelled something before dashing out of the room. McKenzie grabbed Dianne's arm and was yanking her upward, telling her that they had to get out of there, someone was shooting.

"He has a gun!" had been the thing Alex had yelled at them before running. It took Ricky a few beats to register that. Then he was running for the door and peering out, trying to gather what exactly was happening.

The room was in complete pandemonium. People were shrieking and running in all directions, being shoved over and tripped over, the cubicle walls were knocked down in some places as people were fighting to get away. Ricky looked past them to the main entrance to their floor and then drew back at another blast of gunfire. He pressed himself back against the wall, ducking out of sight and towards the back of the room. His eyes darted, again, to the clock and it read 9:04 am. Not even a full minute had passed since the shooting started.

"That sounds like a shotgun," McKenzie said next to him. She had given up on trying to get Dianne up and had moved herself next to Ricky. She seemed calm, if somewhat startled, but she wasn't screaming and running. "What did you see?" she asked him.

"Josh... Josh... is shooting people," Ricky stammered.

"Josh Pruitt?" McKenzie asked, then "It doesn't matter, we need to get out of here!"

They both grabbed at Dianne and hauled her up, McKenzie speaking loudly to her. Dianne stumbled forward with them and they hurried to the entryway just as people spilled in. "He's coming!" "He's killing people!" "Someone call 9-1-1!" "What's happening? What's happening?" "RUN!" the words filled up the space around Ricky as the group shoved their way into the break room. An ear shattering BOOM roared and was followed by a cacophony of screaming and shrieking. People dove for the ground while others ran to the back of the break room in sheer panic. Ricky was buffeted by people but stood there, clutching Dianne's arm, who was trying to throw herself to the ground.

"HE SHOT ME!" someone wailed just outside the break room.

"And I won't be used! I won't be used again! Bastards! Bastards!" Josh was yelling. There was a crack, not of gunfire, but something else.

"He's reloading!" McKenzie yelled at Ricky and grabbed his arm. "We have to run now!"

"Where?" Ricky cried, letting go of Dianne, who dropped like a sack of potatoes and curled into a ball, hands covering her head.

"To the front!"

"RUN!" someone screamed. "RUN NOW!"

"I won't be used, I won't be used by you bastards!" Josh yelled. "Bastards! Think you can use me!"

Ricky glanced at the clock again as he and McKenzie and several others made a run for it. 9:05 am. They shoved their way out of the entryway and into the office main. McKenzie grabbed his hand and they pushed their way forward.

Another BOOM and both he and McKenzie tripped as people surrounding them either fell or threw themselves to the ground. Ricky was violently shoved from behind and he took three great strides forward, trying not to fall down. McKenzie's hand was yanked from his and she fell, either shot or pushed, he couldn't tell. Then someone grabbed his arm and he was pushed again, then thrown away, this time toppling over a chair that was on its side. He went down hard.

Ricky rolled over and felt a sharp pain in his mouth. He'd bitten his tongue when he'd fallen and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He spat as he got to all fours, looking around wildly. He could see bodies around him, blood everywhere, broken furniture, broken glass. He could hear screams and crying and there was a heavy, sulfuric smell. He was in a section of cubicles that were partially collapsed and scuttled to a standing wall, not seeing Josh but he was close, he could hear him yelling and shooting.

He had to get out. He peered around, trying to get his bearings. The clock on the wall read 9:06 am; barely a minute since he'd made a run from the break room. He couldn't see McKenzie and he hoped she was making her way out of the office.

He knew he couldn't stay here and decided to go for it. He had to get out. Half bent over, he began to hurry along the edge of cubicle before he felt the panic he'd kept at bay suffuse him. He gave in to it and rose, picking up speed, and ran full tilt ahead towards the bay of elevators.

Too late he saw Josh step around the corner and into his path. Too late when he saw the barrel of the shotgun train towards him. Instead of trying to stop, to dodge, Ricky felt an immediate and primal urge to hurt the man in front of him and so ran full speed right at him. He opened his mouth and yelled, not words, just noise. He instinctively dipped his shoulder just before he hit the other man and the result was Josh Pruitt taking the full weight of Ricky Hoult as he rammed into his body.

Ricky, who had never hit another human being in his life, who only worked out because it was good for him, who hated messes and loud noises and minded his own business and avoided confrontation to a fault; that Ricky Hoult made the decision to take out Josh before he could hurt anyone else. The impulse was sudden and without any thought and once made, nothing could be done but to follow through.

Both men went crashing to the ground. Josh lost his grip on his shotgun and it flung away. Ricky, who had no idea what he was doing, flailed at the man, hitting him wherever he could. Josh was wearing some kind of body armor and Ricky's punches, ineffectual enough, did nothing to hurt the other man. Josh twisted away from him and was hitting him back. Josh knew how to punch but he'd had the wind knocked out of him and he wasn't hitting as hard as he could have, which probably saved Ricky.

But then he snapped a hand out, striking Ricky sharply in the face. Something crunched in his face and he felt pain like nothing before. Blood burst from his nose. He fell back, crying out, and Josh scrambled away, climbing to his feet.

"NO!" Ricky yelled and lunged at him, grabbing around his ankles and tangling his feet together. Josh roared and toppled over again, trying to turn his body but landing over another overturned chair, yelling painfully as he fell onto it. There was a loud crunching sound. Ricky clung to the man's legs as he flopped over. He was clambering forward, trying to pin Josh down, yelling incoherently.

He only realized that something was wrong when Josh was not fighting back. He reared back and looked at him. Josh flopped over when Ricky let go, letting out a groan. He was moaning in obvious pain but he wasn't moving. Ricky backed up. Josh seemed to be trying to move his body but couldn't; he peered up at Ricky, his eyes rolling wildly.

Someone else came up behind Ricky and grabbed at him. "Run, Ricky!" It was McKenzie. She grabbed his hand and they fled together, joining the rest of the group as they stampeded for the elevators and stairs. Ricky glanced again at the clock.

9:07 am. He tried to understand how, just four minutes ago, he was in the break room, about to make coffee. Just four minutes ago, he was thinking about his morning reports. Four minutes ago, life was completely sane and normal. And now everything was chaos and terror. Everything was going to be different forever.

It was just four minutes.