“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” answered Tom Dickson. The former NFL fullback stood and moved quickly to the phone he had been using at the other end of the table. He grabbed up the receiver and his fat fingers started hammering numbers.
Looking at the piece of paper, Samson whispered, “God help you, Dee Dee Sterber.”
Chapter 53
Before I was finished typing the email, Jerod was back. I keyed the last few words and hit the send button. “I just hope somebody gets these.”
“I’m not sure it matters much. I figger we’re pretty much on our own.”
“That just fills me with confidence, you know.”
I took the few steps over to him by the newly discovered door. It was just a single plywood panel in the wall with a recessed handle, not obvious to the untrained eye. I could see how we missed it before.
Standing next to me, Jerod leaned in close and kissed me.
“You goin’ to be all right, Dee Dee?”
“I think so.”
“Ya know what you gotta do?”
“Yeah,” I answered, nodding my head slowly. “I’m to get to the kids and get them out.”
“Okay, then, stay close behind me.” Jerod kissed me again, a quick peck this time.
Before I could respond, he walked over to the desk and, in one move, grabbed the AK-47, slid the strap over his head, and stepped through the small doorway. I followed right behind. My legs felt heavy as if they had been nailed to their spot, but I forced them upward, taking the steps one at a time. The stairs were narrow, metal grilles, the ones you can see right through. I always had a sense of vertigo walking on see-through steps, and this was no exception. The telltale signs hit my head, the dizziness cascading across my skull in waves from front to back. I shook my head to clear it, but clarity was slow in coming, my head still reeling from the earlier concussion.
My eyes flitted from the darkened stairs to the figure ascending faster than I could keep up. What the hell, I thought and pushed ahead. Above me, Jerod’s movements were fluid, purposeful, a man who knew what he was doing. How can he have such confidence? I drew a breath, tried to quiet my trembling and pumped my legs up the steps to try to keep pace with my partner.
“Com’on Dee Dee!”
I hurried up the last few steps. At the second to the last step, Jerod grabbed my hand and half-pulled, half-guided me up. As I stepped through the small doorway, I realized we had emerged near the rear of the cafeteria kitchen. Just beyond the doorway, we had to step around a 55-gallon drum that sat conspicuously in front of the door on the floor of the kitchen. I noted the yellow label along the side of the barrel, which read “Cleaning Supplies.” As we edged around it, careful not to make a sound, I thought what a strange place to leave a drum.
The rest of the kitchen was all shadows and darkness with the only light seeping in through the grease-covered, slanted window above two huge stoves. As my eyes began to adjust, I could make out the shapes of the large stoves standing like hulking monsters against the right wall. Along the opposite wall were the doors of the huge walk-in refrigerator, their chrome handles and hinges barely reflected in the grayish light. A sheet with dollops of peanut butter cookie dough still sat atop the first oven, waiting to be baked, their shapes darkened teardrops caught amid fall. The cookie dough wasn’t fragrant, but hadn’t yet started to stink.
Jerod stepped up to one of the islands the cooks used to prepare the food and I came up alongside him. At the base of the island, I spotted a small paring knife lying on the floor. It lay like some forgotten child’s toy, alone, ignored, the black handle and silver blade a sharp contrast against the white vinyl floor. Without thinking, I reached down and pocketed it. Leaning against the work island, Jerod swung the automatic rifle around and lifted the sling over his head. He brought the weapon around and rested it against the crook of his left arm.
The aluminum swing doors stood directly ahead of us, like silent, still sentries guarding passage into the cafeteria. Standing at the island, I studied the dim kitchen. The entire room had an eerie, deserted quality about it. It was hard to imagine that a few hours ago it had been bustling with action, preparing hundreds of lunches.
Jerod moved around the island and went through the doors and, in a few seconds, reemerged through the aluminum doors. I breathed an audible sigh at his reappearance.
“I’ve checked and the area in front of the doors is clear,” Jerod whispered. “The terrorists must’ve taken out some more lights ‘cause it’s pretty dark out there.” His face was turned toward me and he must’ve seen something he didn’t like. “Dee Dee, ya all right? Your face is all white!”
I looked back and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just scared.”
“At least one of the terrorists is at this end of the cafeteria, left out those doors. When I peeked out before I couldn’t see him--couldn’t see much from the doorway--but I could hear ’m pacing back and forth. At least, I figgered it was him. He’s my job. Ya’ give me a few seconds and you head out those doors and turn right.” He nodded toward the pair of motionless aluminum doors.
I strained to listen from where we stood, but I couldn’t hear anything from the cafeteria. It was hard to believe there were almost five hundred students and teachers out there and you couldn’t hear a sound where we were. For a moment, I considered the unthinkable, that they were already dead. Jerod didn’t let me ponder the possibility for more than a second.
“Ya understand, you need to get to the kids, while I’m, um, should we say, distractin’ the terrorists,” he said, still keeping his voice in an even whisper, the essence of calm. My insides were jumping.
“I know, I know,” I whispered back. “I’m heading right and around the corner to the hallway and then to the side door to the cafeteria to where we think the first of the students and teachers are.” I repeated my part of our plan to reassure myself as well as him.
“Give me a lit’l time,” Jerod reminded me. “If they see ya first, you’ll be in trouble.”
“You be careful, Jerod,” I pleaded, and without warning, tears began sliding down over my cheekbones.
“Don’t worry about me, lit’l lady,” he said in a poor imitation of the Duke and then he kissed me. It was a short, friendly kiss--all reassurance and no passion--and that worried me somehow.
At the kiss I closed my eyes briefly and by the time I opened them again, he was gone and the left aluminum door was swinging silently back. I urged my sluggish feet to move. By the time my hand gently pushed open the right door, I figured I was about ten seconds behind Jerod. As I exited, I looked to my left, to the direction Jerod had gone and thought I could see his shadow moving along the wall, but I couldn’t be sure.
With Jerod gone, standing alone in the shroud of darkness outside the doors, a new wave of panic engulfed me. A temptation flitted through my brain. I knew my way around the building and I figured I could have easily kept going down the corridor past the cafeteria and been out of the building in less than a minute. I would be safe and alive and away from this madness.
My body began to tremble with indecision and I had to wrap both arms around my torso to stop the quivering. In my head, the siren of safety beckoned and involuntarily my foot took one step toward freedom. Then I heard her.
Somewhere, on the other side of the wall that shielded me, I heard a girl sobbing, her cries carrying through the plasterboard. She said, “I don’t want to die.”
That student, those words sealed it. If I hadn’t heard that plea, who knows what I might’ve done. I may not even be here to tell you it all. I never did find out who the student was, but I’m so glad she was there. I started down the hall, searching in the darkness for the side door to the cafeteria just as we planned. I was amazed how quickly I reached it.
When I came up alongside the frame of the door, I stopped short. The door was shut and I brought my face up to the window in the door. Hands cupping my eyes, I peered through the glass panel, squinting into the darkened cafeteria. The
room was a patchwork of ink and gray, with only the barest streaks of light filtering down from the few light fixtures still operating in the cafeteria. I had just enough light to make out some images and, as I squinted, the shadowy figures of teens and adults emerged from the darkness.
Everywhere I looked, they were huddled in small clusters, with the closest group to me fifteen feet from the door. Most were sitting, a few standing and pacing. In a few of the groups, I could see some of the students had lain down, their legs stretched out on the vinyl floor. I peered intently at the scene, trying desperately to locate students and teachers I recognized. I had more than a hundred students in my classes and knew every teacher by sight. I thought it would help steel my shaking resolve if I recognized some friendly faces, but the fates seemed intent on keeping me blind. No matter how hard I stared, it was no good. Almost all the students and teachers had their backs to my position and the patches of blackness that hung in the room conspired to hide faces.
From my vantage point at the door, I couldn’t see either of the terrorists--or more if Jose had lied--and more importantly, I couldn’t see Jerod. If he were able to sneak to where he figured he needed to be, he would be out of my view until I was inside the lunchroom, mixing with the students. I had not heard an ugly burst of gunfire, ripping the quiet stillness of the room of captives. I took that to be a good sign, so far. But I had to get out into the cafeteria if I was going to do any good--or get myself killed in the process, that voice in my head warned. I ignored the siren.
Instead I slowly opened the door and, crouching low, slipped into the lunchroom and tried to hide myself next to a table by the wall. From there I tried to half walk, half crouch to get to the nearest group of students. They were huddled together, their backs to me and did not see me approach. The first student I reached was a dark-skinned male, sitting on the ground, his head drooping in his hands. I tapped him gently on the shoulder and he lifted his dark face and turned to see who it was. As his gaze met mine, the fear that had initially ignited in his eyes melted quickly into relief. As recognition dawned on his features, a smile blossomed across his face.
“Ms. Sterber?!” he said, a little louder than I would have liked.
“Sh-sh-sh,” I whispered, and then added, “Yeah, it’s me and it’s good to see you, Tyrone.”
At the mention of his name, his smile widened. I had always loved to see that bright smile, flashing white against the brown skin and I couldn’t remember a time when that sight was better. He turned abruptly away from me and stood up. Then he edged his way around three students and I saw him come up behind a girl sitting on the floor by herself and he put his hand on her shoulder. When she did not respond, he leaned over and whispered into her ear. Her head shot up like it had been pulled by a string and she turned in my direction. Even before she turned, I knew it was Tess. She stared back, wide-eyed behind those wonderful, brown horn-rimmed glasses. God, it was great to see that face! She jumped up and hurried over to my position.
In the few seconds it took her to reach me, my eyes briefly darted around the room. I located both terrorists, one at the front and one at the rear of the room, and studied them briefly. Neither one had seemed to notice me. It was obvious they were waiting, but they didn’t look nervous. Both appeared calm as they surveyed the hostages spread out around them. I also couldn’t see Jerod, but I figured that was good. He needed to stay hidden until he could reach the terrorist at the rear.
At the same time Tess reached me, calling my name aloud, I saw the figure and froze.
“Ms. S, I can’t believe it!” Tess got out between flowing tears by the time she reached me. She grabbed me and hugged me, “I thought you were dead!”
My gaze drifted past her. When I didn’t respond to her words, she tensed and asked, “What is it, Ms. S?” She followed my eyes and looked back where I was staring.
“Get behind me, Tess,” I said.
Chapter 54
Rashid stared unbelieving at this newest apparition. First, my mother and sister and then Jabirah and now HER? It cannot be, he told himself.
He pushed himself away from the pillar he was using as support and stood up. Sliding the backpack off, he reached behind into the pocket, just to make sure the weapon was still there. Satisfied, he slid the pack on again and started walking toward her. With each step, he tried to make sense of it. It could not be. No longer bothering to blend in inconspicuously, he strode across the room. He bumped into several students, his shoulders roughly shoving them aside, ignoring their murmured protests. He kept his eyes trained on her, or the image, he still was not sure. He was aware of nothing else, of no one else in the room. In ten steps, he was standing in front of her. No, he thought, there can be no doubt.
“Ms. Sterber?” he asked, his voice a respectful whisper. “Is it truly you?” He noticed several students had gathered around her, their stances suddenly protective. His eyes darted to them and then back to her.
“Yes, Rashid, it is I,” she responded with obvious confidence. “A little worse for the wear, perhaps.”
“But--but I thought you were dead. I thought Jesus killed you.”
“That seems to be the prevailing sentiment,” she said and glanced at the students flanking her.
“I watched Jesus humiliate you and beat you unconscious and then knock you into the water,” Rashid protested. He reached out his hand and touched her bare arm and then quickly withdrew his hand, as if her skin had been scalding to the touch.
“In the flesh.” Miss Sterber smiled.
“But, b- but,” he began, stuttering, “how can that be?”
She said, “To a man of faith like you, I would think the answer is obvious. It is not Allah’s will that I die this day.”
“I do not understand,” Rashid said, shaking his head.
“Of course, you do, Rashid,” she said quietly. “We are all subject to Allah’s will. Jesus did all he could to humiliate me and tried his best to kill me, but Allah has other plans. Allah saved me in the water and he has brought me back to save these children.”
Turmoil showed on Rashid’s face.
Before he could decide what to do, he was distracted by a commotion in the rear of the cafeteria. Hypnotized by the appearance of Ms. Sterber, he had taken his attention off Yassim’s position and now when he looked across the crowd, he could no longer see the leader. Drawn to the commotion, the students and teachers between him and Yassim stood up and blocked his view. He tried to move up closer, pushing his way around some students but there were too many standing now. He heard some scuffling noises and then the sounds of hundreds of teens and adults scrambling to their feet. He was trying to decide what to do when he heard a man yell across the room.
“Tell your men to come here and throw down their weapons!” the man screamed. The entire crowd went suddenly still. Then a murmur coursed through the hostages, like a giant wave coming to shore, realization rippling through the crowd.
The voice came from the rear about fifty feet away.
“I said tell your men to come here and throw down their weapons or I will kill you!” the voice repeated. “Now!”
Some of the teens had parted and turned to look at Jesus, who was stationed at the front of the room, at the opposite end of the lunchroom. From his vantage point, Rashid could see Jesus clearly now. Jesus did not move, except to raise the AK-47 and put his finger on the trigger. He waved the weapon from side to side and the hostages, who were standing, emboldened with new hope, cringed at the threat.
Rashid turned back to look at Ms. Sterber and noticed her gaze was also fixed on the confrontation at the rear. He moved again to try to see around the students and teachers and finally decided to use a chair. He pulled one from a table nearby and climbed atop it. He used the top of the plastic back to steady himself and stared toward the rear wall of the cafeteria. He saw Yassim in front of the glass doors with the deck and lake beyond. He was facing the hostages with another man’s arm around his neck and a knife blade against
his throat. Rashid noticed the cell leader did not have his weapon.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask,” yelled the American and Rashid saw a jet of blood spurt from Yassim’s neck. He flinched at the sight of his leader’s wound and his hand went to the back pocket.
Then he heard Yassim call out through clenched teeth “”
Chapter 55
I heard the terrorist yell in Arabic, “Jesus, come over here!” I still couldn’t see Jerod or the cell leader--and I don’t think they could see me and that was how we planned it. I guessed from the desperation in the shouted Arabic that Jerod had been able to surprise and get the upper hand on the terrorist.
When we had discussed the plan earlier, Jerod had decided he needed to use the knife to subdue the leader.
“But, now that we got an automatic rifle, wouldn’t it make sense to use it on them?” I had asked. Even if it were only two to one--as Jose had said--I was scared of the odds and wanted to give Jerod any advantage we could.
“Sure, but we can’t take the chance of hittin’ some of the students and teachers,” he had argued. “We know they sure as hell won’t care if they have to take some of the students out. A gunfight at the OK Corral might just play right into their hands.”
“But these guys are trained fighters,” I raised, “how are you going to use a knife to overcome a guy with an AK-47?”
“Darlin’, I’ll just have t’ be smarter than him. And remember I’m a SEAL.”
And yet, when I moved to where I could get a look at them, there was Jerod, in control, the terrorist in a deadly headlock, the razor-sharp blade at Yassim’s neck. When I heard the leader give the command to Jesus, I relaxed a bit. One more time, Jerod had beaten the odds. How long could his luck hold out?
In Jerod’s grand plan, while he held the leader hostage and distracted the second terrorist, I was supposed to start getting the students out of the cafeteria by the side door. I glanced at the students around me, whose gazes darted from the rear where Jerod held Yassim and back to me. Their faces were expectant, waiting for me to tell them what to do next. But then there was Rashid. Downstairs, neither of us had factored him in and here he was blocking any quick exit.
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