Page 132 of Last Girls Alive
She came to a clearing where there were discarded canned goods and a pot. Looking closer, she found blankets and large trash bags filled with what she presumed were clothes and more bedding. It was a place that transients occupied and that made her pause. Where were they now?
Looking around cautiously, Katie realized that she was exposed and needed to take cover. She pulled McGaven’s gun from underneath her jacket and moved faster, zigzagging around old machine parts and equipment until she faced one of the train cars. She continued moving until she was behind the car in question.
Katie waited.
She heard steady heavy footsteps approaching. Pressing back against the train compartment wheel, she readied herself for an attack, or to become backup for her colleagues.
More thunder reverberated all around her, making her startle.
“Come out now!” yelled McGaven, shattering the quiet. “Let’s see some hands now!”
“I see you, Deputy,” came a voice Katie recognized. She knew that her assessment was correct and Weaver was hiding out, watching and waiting for his opportunity to slip away again.
“Put down the weapon, Weaver!” yelled McGaven again.
That’s all Katie needed to hear—that her partner and two other deputies faced being shot. With desperation she looked around the area, spying a ladder on the train car. Pocketing the gun, she climbed up the ladder without making a sound. It was rickety and she wasn’t sure if it was going to hold her weight, but she made it to the top.
Lying on her belly, she inched forward until she looked down on the top of Weaver’s head; he was waving a gun as McGaven and the deputies had their weapons trained on him.
“I’m not going to ask you again. Put the gun down!” demanded McGaven.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” said Weaver. “I have rights.”
“Your rights are going to be revoked. What you did to those women is despicable.”
“Deputy, I pity you. You are so delusional and quite defenseless, even with your gun aimed at me. Nothing can defeat me.”
Katie was listening to utter madness; it was clear that Weaver was beginning to unravel and he was capable of anything.
“Vi compatisco deputati. Io vinco. Hai perso,” Weaver said in Italian almost singing his reply of how he had won and they had lost.
The tension around them heightened with his eerie Italian words still hanging in the air. His desperation could mean catastrophe for anyone around him. Katie had to think quickly. There wasn’t a good enough shot to get him from her vantage point, so that meant she had to go to plan B.
Katie moved her aching body into a crouching position, but her foot slipped, making a scraping sound.
Weaver looked up, along with the deputies and McGaven.
It was a split second that meant life or death. Katie’s training taught her that was all you had at times, and you had better make peace with it.
In that split second she regained her balance, then pushed up and jumped off the train compartment roof. Within two seconds, she saw Weaver rotate and bring up his arm to shoot her. Katie landed directly on him, taking them both to the ground. The gun fired. Thunder crashed. Deafening explosion in her ears. She had let out a Comanche yell, not realizing it as she dive-bombed the killer, hitting the ground hard and rolling several times out of McGaven’s and the deputies’ views.
Loud voices hollered different orders. “Drop the gun! Let’s see some hands! Stay on the ground NOW!” There was a frenzy of chaos as they scrambled to save Katie.
She landed on her back a few feet away from Weaver. He had already stumbled to his feet with the gun still in his hand—turning his focus on Katie. His face contorted, full of rage, wanting blood to spill. He was going to kill her.
Her hearing hadn’t cleared as her ears still buzzed from being next to Weaver as he fired the gun. The side of her face burned. Her left eye watered uncontrollably.
With a shaky hand, anchoring her feet against the ground from her lying position, she managed to pull her gun and fired once—missing Weaver. A bullet whizzed by her head simultaneously as she fired a second shot, hitting Weaver directly in the chest. He crumpled over and hit the ground—not moving, with his gun still hooked on his fingers.
Katie readied herself to fire again—she watched—waiting for Weaver to get up.
“Katie, Katie,” came a familiar voice, although it was muffled.
She looked up as McGaven scooped her to her feet, holding her tight.
The deputies made sure Weaver was dead and gathered his gun, handcuffing his hands behind his back, as procedure, until the shooting investigation began.
Katie couldn’t take her eyes away from Weaver—the two cases were closed and Tanis was going to the hospital.
