Two months ago, I stopped work on the story due to soccer season. I thought I'd pick it back up to see where it leads.
Chapter 10 -- A Counterattack
The red rays of the setting sun shone down on the empty central square of the market. The soft, red color gave the market a somber feel.
Near the center, close to the platform, stood Williams, alone. He hardly looked at the surroundings. He knew them all too well. How could he forget? He was twenty feet from the stage, looking at the empty, wooden platform. This was where he had stood on That Day.
No sooner had those words crossed his mind then the whole, horrible sequence of events began to play themselves out before his eyes again. The petrified slave wrestled with the guard for control of the gun. Keren screamed. Williams heard the shot and felt himself get hit by someone, not something. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground. His right shoulder protested in pain as he hit the unyielding stone pavement of the courtyard.
Had the bullet him? He reached with his left hand to see. No, he was fine; the shot had missed him. Who, then, had knocked him out of the way? And whom had the bullet hit, if anyone? He started to turn over to see, and then the whole scene shifted.
Once again, Williams found himself alone in the market courtyard. This time, men were carrying boxes out of the office of Mr. Johnson, the market owner. What were they doing?
Just as he was about to speak, though, the men suddenly vanished.
Williams awoke. He was in his room at Providence, and it was about 6:00 in the morning. In about twenty minutes, the sun would finish rising, and it would be time to get up.
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