by Grace Walton
“Colonel, I’ll do what I can.”
“I know you will son,” Ray allowed kindly. “If anybody can get Carrie out of this tight spot, it’s you.”
“This is going to cost you. I’ll be out at your place this weekend,” Gage answered with self-deprecating humor. “I’ll be wanting the biggest steak you can scare up, maybe two of them.”
The old man on the phone laughed. “Gage, why don’t you bring Carrie with you and we’ll eat the whole steer.”
“Sounds good,” his agreement sounded noncommittal. “I’ll be in touch.” He ended the conversation and then dialed the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff’s Office, what can we do for you?” It was the receptionist.
“I’d like to report a school shooting.” He was calm because he was sure the woman would not be. Her scream was proof positive he was correct.
“A school shooting?? Where, what school?” she was yelling.
“A teacher at the Elementary School has reported gunfire,” he said quietly.
“Oh Lord no, Lord no,” the woman moaned. “My Dylan is over there. Oh Lord no, no, no.”
“Ma’am?” he tried to get her attention. “Ma’am!”
“What?” She sounded stunned.
“Tell the sheriff Gage Ferguson called. Tell him I’m on my way to the school now.”
“Ok, ok Gage Ferguson is on the way to the school now,” she repeated dully.
“That’s right. What classroom is your son in?”
“Miss Smith’s,” she answered automatically.
“Good, I’ll look for him,” he said calmly.
“You promise?” Her voice was suddenly full of hope.
“Yeah, I promise. Now go tell the sheriff.” He hung up as the driveway to the only elementary school in town came into view. It was an older school. It hadn’t changed much since he’d gone there as a kid. Gage immediately stopped the truck at the bottom of the drive. He fished around in the glove box and retrieved a small black gun. He ejected the clip and jammed a new one from the glove box back into the gun. Next he found a small knife under the driver’s seat. He slipped its sharp length into a specially constructed sheath in his left boot.
Chapter Three
Gage carefully scanned the schoolyard. He saw a beat up pickup parked in front of the school. There was no movement or sound coming from the interior. It was deadly quiet. That in itself was unusual. He’d decided to go in from the back cafeteria door when he heard the sound of the sheriff’s sirens. He frowned. He’d hoped he would have been able to get into the building before the uniforms showed up. He knew once they arrived any chance of catching the gunmen by surprise would be lost. If he could get inside now there was still a slim chance he could get to the woman before this all went south.
He took off at a ground eating run toward the back of the cafeteria. Coming around the edge of the building he saw a teacher flatten herself along the wall facing the playground. He held up a comforting hand before recognizing her. It was the woman from the elevator at the courthouse. He consciously kept his expression pleasant. This lady was certainly not a famous model. But she might know where he could find one.
“Miss?” he asked in a kindly voice.
Carrie couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Mr. Right… uh or should that be Dr. Right? Then her mind did a double take. What was a guy like him doing at a school shoot out?? Had the Mexican Drug Lord, she was testifying against decided to hire some fresh talent? It made sense. Ex-Rangers did a lot of things to make a buck. That would explain the Rolex and the suit. College professors didn’t make that kind of money. But guys like Ferguson could salt away as much as she once made if they weren’t picky about what they had to do to get it.
And something told her he wasn’t squeamish about those types of details. She knew Mac hadn’t sent him. Ferguson wasn’t the type who worked for free. Besides, Mac’s friends tended to lean towards the ‘cuss a blue streak and spit for distance’ variety of guy. Mac was the salt of the earth. But he didn’t rub shoulders with rich intellectuals, even if they were Ex-Rangers. Neither did Mexican Drug Lords. But she was pretty sure that’s who was paying Ferguson’s bills. Carrie pushed the hair away from her eyes and decided to make him earn his fee.
“What?” she answered sharply. She hadn’t meant to sound like a harpy. But things were a little stressful at the moment. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Fat chance, she thought, guys like him noticed everything. He probably already knew her blood type.
He walked towards her slowly with his hands outstretched, palms up. “Miss, its ok, you’re going to be ok. I’m here to help you.”
His deep quiet words did make her feel better. Then she stiffened in alarm. Of course he knew just how to calm her fears. He was good. She’d give him that. But, she was Carrie Cain, well Carrie Smith at the moment. She had been taught better than to believe what he wanted her to believe. She knew he wasn’t her rescuer. She knew the truth. And she knew she could take care of herself.
“I’m fine, just fine,” she assured him, as she looked straight into his eyes. “But I’m sure the people in the building could use some help.” She nodded toward the front office.
He had to admire the bag lady. She held herself together admirably. She was no screaming basket case like the police dispatcher.
“I’m looking for Caroline,” he said bluntly.
A cold chill swept through the woman on the wall. Nobody knew her by that name around here. In fact, nobody who actually really knew her would ever have called her that. Caroline was strictly a professional name. Now she was convinced Ferguson was after her. It would track so well on the news- Famous Model Killed in Crossfire at Siege on School. Yeah, he was good all right. Maybe he was even better than her Dad.
“I don’t know any Caroline,” she spoke through stiff lips.
Gage felt the change in her. “I think she teaches kindergarten here at school. Do you know where those classrooms are?”
“Sure,” Carrie said making herself smile. “Yes, I know where the kindergarten classrooms are. They’re right around the corner from the library. You can’t miss them. The teachers put a big bear on the wall by the doors so their students would know which rooms were theirs.”
He thanked her and sped off towards the cafeteria. He still was sure he could sneak into the back of the school before the sheriff and his deputies got inside. Carrie watched him until he was out of sight. Then she called for the children.
“Line up.” She sounded like she was totally in command and without fear. Her knees were shaking so hard she thought she might fall, if she tried to take a step.
“Let’s line up.” She dare not clap her shaking hands. So she was relieved when the students started to obey on their own.
“Where are we going?” asked one in a scared voice.
“We’re going somewhere safe,” Carrie assured them. She really wasn’t sure where to take them. She could hear the sirens getting closer and closer so she knew help would arrive shortly. But she couldn’t stay on the playground. Ferguson would be back as soon as he realized she’d sent him in the wrong direction. Carrie’s Dad had taught her a lot about self-defense, but she knew she’d be no match for Ferguson. If he caught up with her, he’d do what he’d been paid to do. And it wouldn’t matter if some five year olds got hurt in the process. She had to get the kids somewhere safe. She looked past the clipped green lawns towards the woods that bordered the edges of the property. She was pretty sure she could hide the students in the dense undergrowth if she could just get them into the trees.
“We’re going on a hike,” she announced brightly. The boys and girls looked at her strangely. “Ok, we’re not going on a hike. We’re going to hide in those woods,” she admitted with a grin. “Can you hide in the woods?” Carrie challenged them.
“You mean like when my Daddy goes hunting and he sneaks up on the deer?” asked the freckled Dylan.
“Yeah, just like that.” Carrie nodded. “Only we’re not going to sneak
up on a deer, we’re going to hide until the sheriff comes and gets us.” She had already started moving in the direction of the big trees. The students followed. Once they got there she motioned them all down.
“I want you to get as low to the ground as you can. Crawl up under a bush. That would be even better.”
“Miss Smith, my Mama’s gonna get mad if I mess up my school clothes,” a little girl protested as her lower lip quivered.
“I’ll talk to your Mama Sweetie, it’ll be all right,” Carrie reassured her and urged the child to duck under the brush. Carrie took a position behind a large tree. She watched as the county’s three patrol cars rolled up to the school. She saw officers get out of the cars and approach the school. Suddenly a shot was fired from inside and she watched in horror as one of the deputies fell. Several of her students started crying.
“I know you’re all scared. I am too. Crying is not going to help.” She tried to be patient with them. They were so little.
“When I’m scared, my Mom prays for me,” Dylan piped up. The freckles on his face stood out in stark relief to the paleness of his skin. “Miss Smith, can you pray for me? I’m real scared.”
Carrie bit her lip and scowled. She didn’t want to pray. She hadn’t been able to since her Dad was murdered. She just couldn’t trust a God who’d let a good man die for no reason. Carrie had never been particularly religious before her Dad died. Sure, she’d gone to church as a little girl. She’d even bought the whole package back then. She’d been ‘saved’, been baptized, even joined the church. Back when her mom was alive, she’d done all those things. Good girls in the South all went to church, right?
Since then, she’d always felt like if she showed up in a pew a few times a year she’d done her duty to God. And she wasn’t a bad person. She had no terrible vices. She gave regularly to charities. Church had been more a cultural thing than anything spiritual. Of course her Dad hadn’t known she felt that way. But truly, that was all there was to being a Christian right? So why couldn’t she pray now? After all, prayer was really just talking to yourself, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t she just say something to calm Dylan’s fears?
“Why don’t you pray for us Dylan?” No, she couldn’t. And she wouldn’t even go through the farce of speaking to a God who’d let her father die while she’d watched.
“Ok,” the little boy agreed. He began to speak naturally from his heart. “God, I’m real scared and I need you to help me not be scared cause Miss Smith don’t want us to make no noise. Amen.”
She looked around and saw several other children nodding as if Dylan’s prayer made perfect sense to them. An eerie calm seemed to descend. And with the exception of a few smothered whimpers the class became silent. Carrie turned back to look towards the school. The remaining deputies had made it as far as the columns supporting the front awning. She recognized one. Sam Dole, he’d asked her out when she’d moved to town in the spring. They’d gone to a movie. But afterwards, he hadn’t called her back. She didn’t blame him. She’d gone to great lengths to look so awful he’d never approach her again. And it’d worked. It was too bad, really. He’d been nice. Right now he was using the fat metal poles as cover to return fire. Sporadic pops erupted from inside the school. After a few minutes the gunfire stopped. She wondered if the intruders inside the school had run out of ammunition.
The lawmen were wondering the same thing. The sheriff motioned his two deputies to go to either side as he rushed towards the entrance. He quickly turned his back to the solid partition next to the double doors. There was still no gunfire. The sheriff took a deep breath before nodding to the deputies. They nodded as if they knew what he wanted.
As a unit they moved with speed to kick in the doors and hit the hard tile floor on the other side. Still nothing happened. They crawled toward the central office twenty feet away. As they got to the door of the office, the sheriff nodded again. They shoved open the glass door and leveled their weapons at the first person they saw. It was the terrified school secretary.
“Where are they Thelma?” the Sheriff barked.
“They took Dr. Stone and went to the fifth grade classrooms.” She sobbed.
“How many?”
“There are five. They’re wearing black ski masks.”
“Ok, you stay put. Lock yourself in Dr. Stone’s office. Call 911.Get the paramedics out here quick. I’ve got a man down. Tell them to use all caution approaching the school until we apprehend the suspects.” He was speaking in a machine-like monotone.
“Let’s go,” he ordered the deputies. They fanned out on either side of the narrow hall and moved towards the fifth grade wing. Coming around a corner they met up with Gage. He’d found Carrie’s classroom empty.
“I came in through the cafeteria. It’s clear in that direction,” he said calmly to the sheriff.
“They’re down here.” The sheriff motioned towards three darkened classrooms.
“How many?” Gage asked.
“Five,” was the hard reply. “Got any ideas?” He knew for sure the tall man had a lot more experience in handling situations like this than he did.
“Yeah, go in high and low. I’ll break first. Don’t shoot. Just act like you will. I’ll do the rest,” he ordered tersely, “On three?”
The other men nodded. Gage lifted his gun and silently counted off three, on raised fingers. They rushed through the door. Inside hidden under desks were a group of fifth grade boys and their teachers, all women in their sixties. Gage shook his head in disgust when he saw the large open windows. He quickly realized only half of the students were there. The boys remained with the teachers. But the girls were gone.
“They took the girls?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
One of the teachers crawled out from under her chair. “Yes.” She reached down to help a boy up. “They lowered them out the windows. They said they needed brides and mothers for the Promised Nation.”
“Promised Nation?” The sheriff was stunned. “What’s the Promised Nation?”
“Sounds like a religious cult, or a white supremacist group to me,” offered one of the teachers.
“Have you ever heard of them Ferguson?” the sheriff asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything.” He wiped a disgusted hand down his jeans. “These religious paramilitary militias spring up overnight.”
“How am I going to tell all those parents that their little girls have been kidnapped?” moaned the sheriff. The two deputies nodded in agreement.
“How many girls were there?” asked Gage. He seemed unaffected by the tragedy.
The two teachers looked at each other and spoke hesitantly.
“There were eight girls in my class.”
“There’s six in mine. And I saw Miss Smith follow them into the woods. Maybe she’ll do something.”
“That makes 15,” Gage stated calmly as he cursed silently. Why would the woman he was hunting chase after kidnappers? This was a complication he didn’t need.
“They’re not going to be able to travel very quickly with that many people. Sheriff, give me twenty minutes before you call your press conference. I want a head start on the law enforcement circus. Once federal is involved so are national regulations.”
“Listen Ferguson I don’t know what you have in mind, but there are probably frantic parents driving here to the school right now. If I know Thelma, she’s most likely called everybody she knows already. I can’t promise you even five minutes. After all, people have a right to know what’s happened.” The sheriff was being political.
Gage didn’t have much patience. He needed to be tracking. “My plan is to get to those girls before any of them get ‘married’,” he said sarcastically. “If your daughter was being carried away by religious fanatics who believed a girl was ready to be married at 12, I imagine you’d want somebody like me going after her as soon as possible. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’d rather wait and hold your press conference. But I warn you Sheriff, it’s going to be
hard to be a hero, when you don’t know what’s happening to those little girls. While you’re up there on a pedestal, taking questions from all the major networks, somebody’s daughter might be making a forced vow. She might be one step closer to being a child bride and mother. You think about that Sheriff. You think about that real hard. Then you make your decision. Either way, I’m going. I’m going after them, whether you give me the 20 minutes or only 20 seconds.” He turned and strode down the hall.
Running out the front of the school, he ignored the paramedics working on the downed deputy. He looked along the ground for anything that would help him follow the woman. The pickup was still there. He quickly scanned the school complex. It was entirely surrounded by thick forest.
Gage loped down to his truck. He retrieved a backpack from the cab and tore off towards the back of the school. A movement in the tree line caught his attention. He automatically pulled his gun back out and trained the barrel towards the suspicious movement. He walked forward with careful, measured steps. From ten feet away, he barked an order.
“Toss out your weapons. Come out with your hands where I can see them.” The responses he got were sniffles and a smothered sob. He knew immediately it wasn’t the kidnappers.
“It’s ok.” He lowered his gun. “Come on out of there. Your moms and dads will be here pretty soon.”
“Are you a bad guy?” asked a weak little voice.
“No.” He would have grinned if the situation hadn’t been so dangerous.
“It’s ok,” announced a child’s voice. “He’s not a bad guy.”
“He could be fibbing,” insisted a girl’s voice. “My mommy says never trust a stranger.”
Smart girl, Gage thought. “I may be a stranger, but I’m really not a bad guy.” Even as he spoke, he knew of countless people on several continents who would hotly debate that statement.