The burst of fire struck the hood of the SUV, leaving a trail of dents across it before additional rounds sailed away into the woods across the street. Sam, recognizing her nearly fatal mistake, dropped flat to the grass, just below the steps and out of the line of fire.

Ben’s only thought was simple—Have to get the rifle away from him. An expert in judo techniques, he clambered up the back of the man and snaked his left arm around his throat. He torqued his legs around the man’s torso and pinned the rifle to the floor of the pavilion, locking it in place with his right heel and calf. He squeezed his left arm, and screamed, “Someone, get the gun! Please!”

The man bucked in his grasp and managed to pull the trigger one more time, sending another hail of bullets into the open area, shattering the back window of one of the vans. As Ben held on, there was a great commotion all around them, and he felt the chill from the temperature drop caused by the wall of wind.

A loud whoosh erupted from behind him, just as dark brown hiking boots appeared out of nowhere and stomped on the gunman’s wrist and hand. Ben heard and felt the impact as several bones in the man’s hand and wrist were shattered. The gunman screamed in agony, and Ben heard the owner of the hiking boots order, “Let him go, quickly!”

Ben had spent years taking instruction and responding to orders from his sensei. The tone of the command was no different, and he released his chokehold just as the butt of a gun struck the screaming man in the jaw. His body went limp, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Ben rolled onto his back and looked up to see a man with a serious expression staring down at him. “Thanks,” he said.

“Get up. There’s no time,” the man said.

Screams exploded from behind as a wave of warmth reached him, and he realized that what he’d known was not just a bluff had erupted into a fiery reality. Ben scrambled to his feet as the newcomer who’d helped him yelled for the residents to move as quickly as possible out of the pavilion.

The flames raced from the back of the pavilion around both sides with malicious intent to meet at the front steps. Ben heard Sam scream his name, but he had to ensure his parents and the rest of the residents escaped the building conflagration. Smoke began to billow over the railing into the pavilion, but the flames hadn’t reached the front steps.

“Come on, son. Let’s get off this deathtrap,” his father said, appearing beside him with his mother. His father yanked the unconscious gunman by the back of his vest where the soft handle protruded and began to pull his dead weight across the floor.