A Murder of Crowes

Reaching down for a pen from her purse saved Carolyn’s life. The bullet flew above her hitting the old lady sitting next to her in the head, killing her instantly. For several minutes the world around her was chaotic. Throwing herself to the ground, she slid under the seat she had been sitting on waiting to be called for boarding of the TWA flight to New York. The old lady’s body down slipped next to Carolyn and with considerable reluctance she pulled the dead body close to her for protection. There were constant sounds of gun shots and then the horrific sounds of hand grenades exploding. But what she would never forget was the screaming of men, women, and children as they cried out for their lives; all to no avail. Her mind cleared. She reached into her purse, not for her pen but for her gun. Grasping it firmly and releasing the safety, she pushed the body in front of her away, rolled onto her stomach and listened. The shots were coming from in front of her and to her right. The men firing the weapons screamed in Arabic as they sprayed the area with bullets. When she heard shouting in Italian further to her right, she knew she had to move. Adjusting quickly to a kneeling position, she aimed in the direction of the Arabic voice to her left, stood up and opened fire. She got two shots away before the blast from the last hand grenade thrown that day blew her backwards, ripping open a gash in her left cheek and smashing the radius of her left arm. She covered her face with her right hand and collapsed in tears. For two minutes she lay fighting back her tears as the noise around her changed to shouting and screaming for help, but no more gun fire. When she opened her eyes the Italian police officer was assuring her that everything was going to be all right. She thanked him in Italian and calmly fainted.