The Morning Of

by S. B. Cody

  She stood her post, looking on at the scene unfolding. It was a cool fifty degrees today, but that didn’t stop beads of nervous sweat from rolling down her cheek. She took a few deep breaths and remained focused, keeping her mind on the situation at hand. She scanned the whole crowd, taking into account everything that crossed her field of vision. If she saw a bump in someone’s pocket, she would examine it, determining if a gun laid in wait. If some errant noise popped up, she would divert her attention to it in order to find the source. It was her goal to make sure that everyone here, cop and protester alike, made it home at the end of the day.

  At the head of the group, a small stage had been constructed with a lone microphone upon it. Speakers took turns getting up and addressing the crowd. It had started off with a prayer. After that came a list of the various unarmed black men, women, and children who had been shot dead by the police. As the names were listed off, Julie could feel her stomach drop. Next up, came someone listing off all the ways that those assembled could take action outside of this protest: writing to the district attorney, donating money to the family…

  Julie glanced behind her. There were some of the other officers, hands already on their guns, seemingly oblivious that that was the kind of behavior that had gotten them into this trouble in the first place. Further behind them some other citizens stood, looking on out of mere curiosity. At least she hoped that’s all it was. There was always the chance it was someone who felt the need to point out that “All Lives Matter.” If so, no good could come of it.

  One such person was Toby Henlon. The most that could be said about Toby was that he managed. At the age of thirty-one, he still lived with his parents as his job slinging a register at McDonald’s didn’t fill his wallet enough to afford a place of his own. Toby had always dreamed of joining the police force. However, his personality screening suggested that he had an undiagnosed form of bipolar disorder and was prone to bouts of rage. That same rage bubbled up in him now. While some saw a protest, all he saw were a bunch of uppity niggers. His only regret is that Clayton and Lewis didn’t burn this whole place to the ground. And now he saw a bunch of cops protecting these bastards. If they wouldn’t put them all back in their place, then he would need to think of a way.

  Another speaker came to the microphone. She was introduced as Denise Liman, the head of the newly formed Stanford Society for Police Accountability. They had only been around for about six months, but the department had been briefed on them when it became clear that a number of the members were people who had made threats on police in the past. So far, they’d only been relegated to small meetings and some fliers around town.

  Liman’s lips were set in a firm, thin line. Eyes narrowed. She stepped up and surveyed the crowd, seemingly giving every person the death stare. The entire time, not a single word spoken. Julie began to wonder if she intended to say anything at all. Maybe her whole job was to simply stand there and scare the piss out of everyone. If so, it worked.

  “Look around. We are standing mere feet away from where a life was ended. A fifteen-year-old boy who never hurt a person in his life. That doesn’t mean anything nowadays, though, if you’re black. Walking alone at night and carrying a phone is now worthy of a death sentence. And it is no coincidence that this occurred here. Here, where they send the black families of the community to live, so that the privileged are able to remain blissfully ignorant of the kind of hardships that we face day in and day out. When one of us is killed, they are able to remain on the high hills and turn a blind eye. It is not until their children are the ones left alone in a pool of their own blood that they will ever know our pain!”

  Julie took a step back at that. Hand instinctively went towards her gun. Was she serious? Was that an actual threat? A few members of the crowd certainly seemed to think so; there were a few yells of “Yeah!” and “Amen!” Most everyone else began to look around in panic, apparently wondering the exact same thing as Julie. A quick glance behind her made it clear that some of the other officers were ready to draw and fire. The entire time, Liman had become silent once again, drinking it all in. Her thin lips curved into something resembling a smile. They then opened, ready to begin again, but before she could continue one of the other speakers ushered her off, making sure she didn’t make it worse.

  “I understand how angry we all are,” the new speaker said taking the microphone, “but we all know that there is a right and wrong way to proceed,” she continued, entering damage control mode. But Julie knew the damage was done. That one comment was going to be the whole story of this protest now.

  The rally continued, a new kind of palpable tension in the air. The speeches had started to wind down, but next came the march five blocks down to City Hall. About half of the officers there were taking off in preparation of closing off the streets of the marching route. Julie had fallen back to the entrance to Evergreen. Once it was all clear, she would head down to City Hall and help set up a perimeter. At the moment, she felt relieved that things hadn’t gotten fucked up beyond all recognition, especially after Liman started shooting off at the mouth. That feeling would fall away soon because right as the crowd started breaking up, the call came over her radio: “ATTENTION ALL UNITS! WE HAVE REPORTS OF AN ACTIVE SHOOTER AT STANFORD WEST HIGH SCHOOL. REPEAT… THERE IS AN ACTIVE SHOOTER AT STANFORD WEST HIGH SCHOOL. ALL THOSE UNITS NOT BLOCKING OFF STREETS ARE TO RESPOND IMMEDIATELY!” Julie froze in place as though she had just looked in Medusa’s eyes. Every syllable squawked out in perfect clarity. Her throat went as dry as the Sahara. All breath left her lungs. She couldn’t see anything in front of her. Not the apartments. Not the crumbling gravel or unkempt lawn. Not even the crowd of people shambling towards her. All she could see was the image of Terry lying dead, full of bullet holes, a pool of blood beneath him.

  “Shit! Lipton! We need to get moving!” a voice cried out from miles away. “Lipton!” it came again, this time much louder. Now the voice reached out and yanked her from her daze. Julie looked over to see Hicks, another officer stationed at the entrance with her. “Come on! Let’s go!” he yelled again. Julie did nothing but nod at him, and after she snapped back, she moved towards her car.

  She jumped in behind the wheel and started her up. She was ready to gun it, but the crowd now in full force, blocked her exit. The siren flipped on, but that didn’t do much to part the sea of people. “Jesus! Fucking move!” Julie screamed from inside the car. Over to the left she saw that there was a small, open patch of grass. She swung the car over and plowed through it, ignoring the bump and scraping that her car took. Once she was over it, a quick turn to the right brought her back on the main road and ahead of the crowd. The car barreled down the street, the siren announcing its way. At this point, it was 8:40. The shooting had been going for ten minutes.

  A line of five cop cars charged into the parking lot of Stanford West. They all stopped upfront forming a semicircle. Julie, staying in front, threw open the door and charged at full speed up the steps and into the school. Behind her the heavy footsteps of the other officers were close behind. The first thing that she faced was the body of Zach Levinson with a single bullet hole in his head. Off to the right more bodies had been strewn across the main office.

  Julie and the other officers sailed through the doors into the main hallway, guns drawn. At the intersection they all slowed down. There were five of them; Julie and Hicks took off to the right. Two others went to the left and one other headed into the library. Along the way, they checked each door so that any unlocked room didn’t go uninspected.

  “Everyone! This is the police! Please remain calm and stay where you are! We will let you know when the building is secured!” Hicks belted out.

  Julie marched down the hall, her hair drenched in sweat and her breath coming hard and fast. The only thing that could be heard were their footsteps echoing off the wall. She kept waiting for the thunder of gunfire to burst out at any second, but it never came. Along the way they faced smears of blood covering the hall.
Bloody footprints. Long swipes from victims having clawed their way across the floor. Off to the right was an open classroom. Julie looked around to see a row of computers, but nothing else. Over to the left, Hicks investigated another and found the same.

  Down the hall they went, continuing to check every door. Hicks announced their presence again. “Please let us out!” a voice cried out from one of the rooms.

  They continued, and a look into a classroom on the left displayed a room caked in blood. Glancing in further, Julie saw a scene that resembled a slaughterhouse for cattle. Eleven bodies lay on the ground, filled with bullets, some to the point that their intestines could be seen. Not a single person in the room had been left alive. The smell of metal filled the air to the point that Julie could taste it. From an open window, the cool October air filtered in.

  “Dear Jesus,” she whispered to herself. She stepped out of the room before she became overcome with tears from the sight. From there she continued her search.

  The five officers that comprised of the first responders, now joined by another dozen, conducted another search of the building. But nothing else was found. Only a slew of victims and horrified students and teachers. The shooter, nowhere to be seen. When everyone was accounted for it was found that twenty-eight people had been killed. Another fifteen injured.

  5

  An army of police cars and ambulances descended upon Stanford West, along with reporters and other townspeople who came to see. Some of them family members of those who had been inside. Others, people who just needed to see the whole circus firsthand. Connor was ushered out of the building and looked upon the scene. Individual faces couldn’t even be made out, all of it an ocean of flesh and hair. Flashes went off from all the cameras. He reacted to none of it. Simply observed. Able to do nothing more. At this moment, he couldn’t feel the steps that he took. He wouldn’t even have been sure of where he was going, but for the long line of people who were led out of the school and into the makeshift hospital that had been constructed in the parking lot. Someone took him by the arm and escorted him under a tent and into a chair.

  “Hi. I’m Doctor Benning. What’s your name?” a voice asked. To Connor it was all muffled half-speak. “Hello?” the voice continued.

  “Wha…?” Connor said, staring blankly ahead.

  “What’s your name, pal?” The words had begun to make sense.

  “Connor.”

  “Were you hit at all?”

  “No.” Now a light scorched his pupils. He winced and shut his eyes.

  “Okay. You seem to be having normal pupil dilation.” After that Doctor Benning pulled out a blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around Connor’s arm. A few pumps and then he tore it off. “Blood pressure seems a bit high, but that’s to be expected. Nothing to worry about. Okay, you can head over there,” he said, pointing towards a larger tent. “Paramedics will be available if you need anything. From what I can tell you don’t need emergency services. Let someone know if you need to go to the hospital.” Connor stood up and shuffled off towards a seat under the tent. It was already filled to the brim with others being filtered out from those who needed immediate attention. Connor sank into a seat and stared straight ahead. Around him others threw up, wailed into the sky. Along with the countless voices, rumbles of engines, and snapping of cameras, it all coalesced into a general hum that now filled his ears. Through all of it, Connor felt like he should cry. Should pound his hands into the pavement. But he couldn’t. So far he couldn’t feel a thing. He looked around at it all, taking all of it and none of it in. That is until his eyes fell on a young girl who sat in the back of an ambulance. It was Kristin, who stared blankly and shivered all over. Her lip kept quivering. Connor stood up and shuffled over towards her.

  “Kristin?” he said as he walked up to her, not recognizing the sound of his own voice.

  She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look over at him. Bits of blood covered her face. All that came from her was some small utterance that he couldn’t even make out.

  “Kristin? What are you saying?” Connor asked as he leaned in closer. The utterances now became clear.

  “I’ll be behind you. I’ll be behind you. I’ll be behind you. I’ll be behind you. I’ll be behind you…” she repeated over and over again.

  “Kristin? What the…”

  “She’s in shock,” a voice interrupted. Connor turned to see a paramedic coming forward.

  “Did she get shot?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “No idea. We can’t get anything out of her.” The paramedic produced a wipe and attempted to get off the blood on her face, but every time his hand came towards her she would throw her head back. “Shit. Okay, we’ll have to worry about that later. Are you a family member?” the paramedic asked, turning back to Connor.

  “No. We work together.”

  “All right. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to step back. We need to get her moving.” The paramedic climbed into the ambulance and guided Kristin back in with him. From there the doors closed and they took off.

  Connor stood alone looking at the chaos around him. The building and parking lot were all the same, but it appeared alien now, as if he had just been dropped here. In the midst of it all, he heard an ungodly shriek come from the side of the building. Connor turned to see Richard run around the corner. He had to have been about 100 feet away, but Connor could see that his eyes had gone beet red.

  “Natalie! Natalie!” he screamed. He rushed right up to Connor. “Mr. Sullivan, have you seen Natalie?”

  “Who?” Connor asked, barely able to make out a word he said.

  “My girlfriend. You saw her earlier today. I don’t see her anywhere! I don’t see her class! Where is she?!”

  “I’m sorry, Rich. I don’t know.”

  “Oh God,” Richard breathed as he ripped at his hair. He staggered off and mingled back into the crowd, continuing his search. Connor watched him off, another stranger in a strange land.

  He wandered back to his seat when a voice cried out to him, “Connor!” He turned around to see Brandy standing over at the police barrier that had been set up. When his eyes fell upon her, he broke into a smile and took off, running towards her. They embraced over the barrier. Brandy buried her face in his shoulder and let forth a waterfall of tears. “Oh thank God! I was so scared! I love you so much!”

  “I love you too,” Connor whispered into her shoulder.

  Julie stood at the perimeter, meant to keep a check on the throng of spectators and reporters, but her attention was only half there. She continued to search the line of people filing out of the school, waiting, desperate to see Terry among them. She examined each person who came down the steps, looking for him.

  She stood, shifting from one foot to another for twenty minutes before she saw him. He came around the corner, a blank expression on his face. She took off at a run, pushing through anyone and everyone that stood between her and her son. “Terry!” she screamed. His head snapped up and mouth dropped open in joyful shock. He lumbered to her like a zombie. They met in the middle where Julie wrapped her arms around her son.

  “Jesus Christ, Terry. I was so scared.” Julie shot out her arms and held Terry at arm’s length. Her eyes darted around, looking Terry from head to toe.

  “What the hell?” he said, taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she inquired. Julie whipped her son around and started running her hands along his back, desperate to make sure he didn’t have a single injury anywhere on his body.

  “Jesus, Mom! I’m fine,” he insisted, pleading with her to stop. With that, Julie wrapped him back in a hug.

  “I was so scared. I thought I…” Julie said.

  “I know, but I was lucky enough to get out of there early on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was in the bathroom when it happened. When I heard the announcement I ran out of the buil
ding.”

  “Well it’s over now. All that matters is that you’re okay.” She held on to him for another five minutes. From there she led him over to a doctor who gave him the all-clear. “Do you need to go to the hospital at all?” Julie asked as she led him out of the tent.

  “No. I’m fine. I just want to go home,” Terry responded.

  “All right. Let’s go.” Julie got the okay to head out from her lieutenant. They drove home in silence. Every so often she’d glance over to see Terry staring down at his feet. After the short drive, they headed inside where Julie’s husband, Brian, was waiting right by the door for them. She’d called on the way home to let him know that they were all safe. The moment they crossed the threshold, he pulled them both towards him, squeezing them as if he thought they’d fly away otherwise.

  “Thank God,” Brian said. “I’ve never been more worried in my life.”

  “We’re okay,” Julie replied.

  “Neither of you are ever leaving the house again.” They all released their hold on each other. “Do you need anything to eat?”

  “I just want to go to bed,” Terry replied.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Julie said, petting his head. Terry pushed forward and shambled up the steps, Julie and Brian close behind. Terry walked right into his room, pushing the door open with his whole body. He didn’t stop or slow down at all until he got to his bed and tumbled onto it. He was asleep the moment that he hit the mattress. Julie and Brian both just stood, looking down at their sleeping son.

  “What the hell happened?” Brian asked.