Joe

by H. D. Gordon

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Michael

  …frozen in place. Oddly, it was not the sight of the gunman, who was now grinning at him as if his name was next on the list. In that tiny, long moment, Michael recognized the shooter as the guy he had bumped into the other day. It was the guy that had been here yesterday, the one he and Joe had followed out to the parking lot. Puzzle pieces fell neatly into place, curious in their clarity. As two barrels raised and poised directly at him, he was frozen still because he saw the raven-haired girl, he saw Joe, step out from behind the stone platform on which the school mascot stood, and she had a gun in her hand too! She took only a few steps, lined up her shot…

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Joe

  …and didn’t hesitate. The gun in my hand made a noise so loud that despite me having anticipated it, my heart jumped hard in my chest, and my teeth clicked together harder. At first I was unsure as to whether I had hit my target or not, and then…

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  The Decider

  …something hit him hard in the back, and at first he thought someone must have come up and punched him. But as he felt his knees connect hard with concrete, and then the blooming, booming pain explode in his back, his brain finally made the connection between the BANG! he had just heard and the pain he now felt, and realized that he had been…

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Michael

  …shot. The raven-haired girl had shot the gunman. Joe had shot the gunman, right before the gunman had been able to shoot him. She had saved his life. Had saved his life. But when he turned his eyes back to the gunman, he saw that he was raising…

  Chapter Eighty

  The Decider

  …his guns took more effort than he liked to admit. What in the holy hell fuck had happened? The pigs weren’t here yet. They couldn’t be here yet. He swiveled his body around, looking for the stupid motherfucking (can’t believe this is happening, it’s not too late, what the fuck is happening. Sheep. They’re just sheep) person who had shot him. And there she was. And it was that black-haired bitch. And she had…

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Joe

  …the gun still aimed at him. From the corner of my consciousness, in a space of time that could only have been a slice of a second, I realized he was going to try and shoot me before I could—

  Shoot to kill, soldier! Don’t you hesitate, Goddamit! Don’t you hes—BANG!

  I didn’t.

  Another boom of my heart. More ringing in my ears. In front of me, only fifteen feet away, the Shadowman’s…

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  The Decider

  …felt another hard punch slam into him. Into his chest. He squeezed the triggers of both guns and heard BANG!BANG! followed immediately by CRACK!CRACK! and saw sparks fly from the concrete as the bullets ricocheted off the walkway and…

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Joe

  …something hit the side of my ankle, and the first ridiculous thought that occurred me was that I had been stung by a bee. Then pain flared up hot and ugly on my left ankle, but I spared it no thought. I only had room for the two thoughts chasing each other around in circles in my mind.

  Don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill.

  Ahead of me, the Shadowman had…

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  The Decider

  …dropped the gun in his right hand to the pavement, and was reaching frantically for the walkie-talkie in the pocket of his black cargo pants. All he had to do was push that button. Push the button push the button that’ll show this black-haired bitch that’ll show them all don’t they know who the fuck I am that’ll show them just PUSH THE BUTTON AND BLOW THEM ALL TO HELL…

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Joe

  …for this. But I had come too far. It was too late to turn back now and change my mind. And if I’m being honest, I spared no thought for this either. I had only two thoughts that mattered.

  Don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill.

  The third time, I did.

  The fourth time, BANG!BANG! was just overkill. But it worked. The Shadowman fell face forward on the…

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Michael

  …pavement, and Michael just stood there staring, as solid and immobile as the jaguar statue that stood just up ahead. He watched the gunman warily for what seemed like a long time, and when he finally looked up to find the raven-haired girl, he saw that…

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Claire

  …she had killed the gunman. Then Claire lost consciousness, the pain in her shoulder and leg finally pulling her into the blackness. But she pulled two things down into the darkness with her, two thoughts that she would remember (if?) when she woke up. The girl had hair the color of a raven and eyes an odd and unforgettable mixture of silver and…

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Mina

  …blue and she marched right past them, where Mina lay on the sidewalk with her boy in her arms, and the man who had taken a bullet for him lying beside them. For a moment Mina thought she should call out a thank you to the girl, but she seemed to be in a hurry to get…

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Joe

  …out of there. I didn’t look around me. I didn’t check to see if anyone was watching. The time to follow the fourth and final rule Mr. Landry had given me had come. I shoved the gun back into my jacket pocket and pulled the hood up over my head.

  You get out of there, soldier. Don’t you pay no mind to nothing or no one around you. You set your sights on the exit and make like a banana and split, you got me? That’s an order.

  And it was one I fully planned on following. The pain in my ankle was growing stronger, and heat and throbs were starting to pulse up my leg. I was dripping sweat and my temperature must have been high enough to stifle my lungs, because breathing seemed to be quite the labor. But by the grace of God, I found I could run. Well, maybe jog is a better word, and this was good. It meant that the bullet had more than likely just grazed me. If it had connected fully with my ankle, I wouldn’t have even been able to walk.

  I focused on nothing other than the exit, and I reached it faster than I thought I would, shoving past a few people who were still blocking up the way. When I finally made it out of the Quad, I saw my El Camino waiting for me by the curb, and I have never in my life been more overjoyed by the sight of it. This was the real reason I had come to school so early. This side of the Quad, the west side, was the only place where curbside parking was allowed. These spots were always the first to be taken. I had gotten here early enough to nab one, and I realized now that that had been a really awesome decision.

  Sliding behind the wheel of the car, I found my hands were shaking too badly to get the key into the ignition as swiftly as I would have liked. On the third try, I got it. Three seemed to be my lucky number today.

  Surprisingly, it was easier to get out of the campus than I had anticipated. This was another advantage of my prime parking spot. The parking lots were probably jammed packed with people trying to escape in their cars. Before I knew it, I was hopping on Highway 71 southbound, and the realization that I had made it out finally hit me.

  Going northbound, what seemed like dozens of police cruisers raced by with their sirens screaming and their lights flashing. I tensed as they zoomed by me in the opposite lanes, and watched them in my rearview for a moment as they exited the freeway and sped toward UMMS.

  It’s over, boys. You missed it. It’s over.

  That was all my mind could handle, so I held on to that thought as I drove back to my apartment in Peculiar.

  It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

  But really, when you’re like me, it’s never really over, is it?

  Chapter Ninety

  Joe

  I climbed the steps to my apartment slowly, trying to keep as much weight off my ankle as possible, and was not surprised to see Mr. Landry waiting outside his apartment do
or. When he saw me, his right hand reached up and rested over his heart, and the look of pure relief on his face was so great that I felt my eyes fill up with tears instantly.

  Mr. Landry opened the door to his apartment, and I went inside without question, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He left me there for a moment and returned holding a first aid kit. Then he took a seat in the chair opposite me and patted his left leg twice. I lifted my ankle onto it, and he pulled the bottom of my jeans up to get a look at the wound.

  “Just a graze,” he mumbled, more relief flashing across his old face. “Lucky.”

  At this, I surprised myself by bursting into laughter. I didn’t know why I was laughing, but tears streamed down my face as I did so, and it was an odd, opposing feeling. The laughter died out quickly, and then I just sat silently as more tears escaped my eyes.

  Mr. Landry cleaned my ankle and bandaged it. He didn’t ask me any questions, or try to make meaningless conversation. For this, I was grateful. If I was pushed into talking about the reasons why tears were running down my face I would be forced to think about those reasons. And I would. But later. Not right now. Just…not right now.

  When he was finished, he got me a glass of orange juice. I forced it down, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

  Mr. Landry said, “You done good, Joe. You done good. Now I think you ought to go get some rest. Come on.”

  Mr. Landry walked me into my apartment and took off my shoes for me as I climbed into bed. Pulling the covers up to my chin, he pulled two blue pills out of his pocket and grabbed a bottle of water that was on my nightstand. He handed them to me.

  “Take these,” he said. “They’ll let you sleep.”

  Mr. Landry took his gun out of my jacket pocket and slipped it into his own as he hung my jacket on the side of my bed. “You just rest now. Ain’t nothing or no one gonna bother you. Ima sit right out there in your living room and make sure of that. You sleep as long as you need and don’t you worry about nothing.”

  I swallowed the pills dry and shut my eyes. Sleep sounded like the best thing in the world right now.

  He drew the shades down in my bedroom, and a more complete darkness surrounded me. I felt myself beginning to slip away, and that was more than good.

  Just before he shut the door to my bedroom, I heard Mr. Landry say, “You done good, girl. I’m real proud of you.”

  Then I heard nothing at all. And that was good, too.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Joe

  “…shooting at…resulted in four deaths…others wounded…critical condition…”

  When I awoke, there was no sunlight peeking in from around the drawn shades of my bedroom windows. I rubbed my eyes and pulled myself into a sitting position. Glancing at the clock hanging above my mirror I saw it was ten p.m. I threw the covers off and climbed out of bed, wincing when my ankle throbbed. The pain seemed to snap me into reality, and the events of the day came back to me in a dizzying rush.

  “…the shooter…Daniel Deaton was found shot dead at the scene…police investigating…explosives…”

  It took me a moment to realize that the voice I was hearing was coming from the television in my living room.

  Daniel. The Shadowman, his name is Daniel. Was Daniel.

  I barely made it into my bathroom before bile rushed up my throat and came spewing out of my mouth. Clinging to the rim of the toilet, I found that I was shaking all over. Eventually, I found my feet, brushed my teeth and washed my face. A few moments later, I wandered into my living room where I found Mr. Landry sitting on the couch in front of my television. I took a seat beside him, my eyes glued to the screen. The ten o’ clock news had just begun, and you could probably guess what their top story was.

  “If you’re just tuning in, at around noon today a shooting occurred on the main campus of the University of Midwest Missouri State. Police officials have confirmed four dead, including the alleged gunman, a student at the University by the name of Daniel Deaton, who was shot dead by an unknown shooter—”

  I looked over at Mr. Landry. He looked back at me. We turned our attention back to the reporter.

  “…Police are investigating the identity of this unknown shooter, hoping that witnesses may be able to provide leads. As of right now, there are no known suspects. Four explosives were also found hidden in various locations around the campus, but police confirm the devices have been removed and the grounds are now cleared. We go now to Gail Heart for more breaking news on this story.

  “Thank you, Sharon. If you tuned in to our earlier broadcasts, you know that the alleged gunman, Daniel Deaton, allegedly left a box at our Channel Five News station. Police have since confiscated the box and all of its contents, but—”

  Mr. Landry shut off the television. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and sat staring at the black television screen. Mr. Landry allowed me my silence, for which I would normally have been grateful, but I found the quiet seemed to be suffocating me. It was too at odds with the noises sounding off in my head.

  BANG! BANG! RUN! Daniel Deaton. BANG! BANG! Shadowman. Four confirmed dead. Don’t hesitate. BANG! Shoot to kill…

  My mouth fell open. “I-I-I,” I said. I covered my face with my hands.

  “Say it,” Mr. Landry said, making me jump in surprise. “Say it now. Just this once, and then never, ever say it again.”

  I swallowed hard, my throat dry and irritated.

  “I killed him,” I said, the words falling quietly and perfectly from my lips.

  Mr. Landry patted my shoulder. “Good. That’s good. It’s out. Don’t you ever say those words again, to anyone.” He paused, waiting for a response from me.

  I nodded.

  “All right. Ima tell you something, something I’ve never had to say to anyone other than myself. There’s some things that you do in life that ain’t nobody’s business but your own. There’s some things that you gotta chuck into a deep hole inside you and bury for the rest of forever. Those things, they go to the grave with you. That’s just what we’re both gonna do with this. Bury it, Joe. You bury it and forget you ever put it there.”

  I looked down at my hands. “Sir,” I said, my voice small, “I-I-I-I nuh-never…I-I duh-don’t know how to duh-duh-deal with it.”

  Mr. Landry sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Well, how could you?” he asked. “The first time is always the hardest, and Ima give it to you straight, cuz I don’t know no other way to give it. This probably won’t be your last time, either. People like us, we got obstacles in our lives that most other folks is blessed enough not to have to deal with. We’re magnets for trouble. I’m an old man now, and I’ve made a decision to stay outta other folks’ business, but there were days—more days than I’d like to admit—when I’s feeling just the way you are now. Least you ain’t all alone. You got me to share in the weight of the secrets you carry. I was all alone, for a very long time.

  “You, ah, you feel…bad about…it?” he asked.

  I thought about this question. After a moment, I shook my head, but as if to contradict me, warm tears spilled down my face. I swiped them away quickly, embarrassed.

  Mr. Landry took my hand. “It’s the other ones, ain’t it? The ones you couldn’t save?”

  I nodded, saying the words in my head that would take forever to get out of my mouth. At least Mr. Landry’s gift was convenient.

  I knew one of them…John, his name was John. He was my friend. I got scared. When it all started to happen I…I froze up. If I would have been quicker…I watched him die, sir. It happened right in front of me.

  Mr. Landry handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes, but the tears were coming faster now, and they dripped from my chin to land on my shirt.

  He was my friend, and I could’ve saved him. If I had been a little bit faster…if I hadn’t frozen—

  “Bullshit,” Mr. Landry said.

  I was so shocked by this response that I spoke out loud. “Wuh-what?”


  He let out a heavy breath. “That’s bullshit, Joe. Don’t you go thinking about shoulda-coulda-wouldas. That shit will drive you crazy. Trust me. Everything worked out just the way it was ‘posed to. Don’t go cursing the Fates, child. Who knows what would’ve happened had you acted any sooner or any later? You may not be sitting here right now.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He was right. I knew that, but…

  “Well, go on, then,” he said. “Get it out. Cry the tears and speak the troubles, because after today, all of this gets buried. You got me, soldier?”

  Yes, sir.

  And I did just that. I cried and cried and told Mr. Landry everything, speaking in my head to make it easier on both of us. He sat and listened to it all. I promised to bury it, and I would certainly try. I had learned my lesson about not following Mr. Landry’s rules. But when he left to go back to his apartment around midnight, I laid in my bed and thought about all of it. All of them. The people I couldn’t save. John most of all. Yes, John most of all.

  Had I really done any good? I didn’t know. Maybe I would never know. And if I had, it sure didn’t feel that way.

  When I was finally on the verge of finding sleep, another disturbing thought occurred to me: Had anyone seen me?

  And this thought, perhaps, was the worst one of all.

  I’ve told you before, I am no hero.

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Claire

  The first thing that registered with Claire when she came to was the pain. The second thing was the stiff, uncomfortable position her body was in. Opening her eyes, she found that the light in the room was harsh and glaring, and she squinted until her vision was clear. She felt cold too, and found her mobility was limited. It hurt more to move.