FATAL MENACE INVADES THE MUNDANE LIFE D.C. SNIPER FILLS ROUTINE ACTIVITIES WITH SENSE OF DREAD, LURKING HARM.

Byline: Bill Hillburg

THE sniper struck a block from my home Monday night.

The serial assassin murdered victim No. 9, a 47-year-old woman, as she loaded purchases into her car at the Home Depot parking structure in the Seven Corners Shopping Center in Falls Church, Va., a complex my neighbors and I visit regularly.

For nearly two weeks, the sniper had been out there, somewhere, and always in the back of our minds. Monday night, as the toll hit nine dead and two seriously injured, the fear hit home.

As a searchlight-equipped police helicopter circled over my home at the Oakwood Falls Church apartments, I met with a neighbor, a young National Guardsman. He was returning from a shift at a nearby military base, where he stands guard armed with an M-16 rifle.

``I can't believe anyone would shoot innocent people,'' he said as the searchlight illuminated the Oakwood parking lot. He noted that the sniper's weapon of choice has been identified as a civilian version of his M-16.

The Washington region has been on edge since 9/11, when terrorists attacked the Pentagon and attempted to take out either the Capitol or the White House. But that terrorism had specific targets.

This time, everyone is in the cross-hairs.

It's the mundane, routine settings of the attacks that have us on edge. Victims have been assaulted while loading shopping bags into their cars, pumping gas, mowing a lawn, walking into their middle school and resting on a storefront bench.

The mundane and the routine have been disrupted in massive ways. After each recent attack, police have closed down every major highway and bridge in the region with roadblocks, searching for an elusive van linked to several of the crimes. Traffic has been brought to a standstill for hours.

Gassing up the family car is now a liability. Many drivers set the nozzle on automatic fill and duck for cover while fueling. Shoppers keep low profiles as they cross parking lots or load their purchases.

On Saturday, I pulled into a gas station to fill a low tire with air. I parked my car so that I could keep the vehicle between me and the street. Later, at the grocery store, I used the ``parcel pickup'' service rather than risk loading my own trunk in the open parking lot.

During a reception last week at the German Embassy to mark the 50th anniversary of the German-American Fulbright Scholarship program, my fellow guests and I were invited to gather on the open veranda and take in the views of the Washington Monument. Despite a picture-perfect evening, we all opted to socialize indoors.

At home, I avoid my seventh-floor patio with the sliding glass door offering views of the fall foliage. Arriving by shuttle bus at the East Falls Church Metrorail commuter station, I walk quickly until I'm inside the concrete, bunker-style depot.

All area schools are on lockdown. Students at Falls Church's George Mason High School and other campuses scurry from their buses and parents' cars to the safety of the classrooms. Outdoor recess has been canceled, as have all sports. Football players and other prep athletes struggle to stay sharp with indoor practice sessions. Homecoming celebrations and games have been postponed indefinitely.

``I never thought an empty playground could be such a sad place,'' said a Maryland woman attending the embassy fete whose kindergartner has been on lockdown. ``I worry about my daughter every minute we're outdoors.''

Late Monday night, my neighbors and I gathered in the inner courtyard, sharing the latest news and fears amid the growing din of sirens. Police probed a nearby wooded area for evidence.

The elderly lady from down the hall said she had been shopping at the Home Depot only hours before the attack, performing the same mundane tasks as victim No. 9. I told her I had walked to and from an adjoining supermarket and bookstore the day before.

Another neighbor, a woman recently arrived from war-torn Somalia, held her baby close as she asked us, ``Will the man with the gun come here?''

My neighbors and I, including a State Department employee evacuated from terrorist-plagued Pakistan with his family, tried to reassure her that the attacker had probably fled. We told one another to stay safe as we headed back to our apartments.

Before I closed the blinds for the night on my sliding-glass patio door, I turned out all of the lights in my apartment. No sense in creating a silhouette. The sniper was still out there, somewhere, and more than ever on my mind.