by Bryan Way
“No, it’s perfect…” I add.
“No… what if someone finds the body?”
“Just listen… all you have to do is walk past 308 and peek in… if you’ve got the camo, the hat, the rifle…”
“No…”
“The lights are out… we’ll be c-… look… your exposure is… two seconds, tops… if they come after you, Rich and I’ll be covering. If they see you and do nothing, they don’t know what’s going on… if they don’t see you, you’re home free.”
“And if they shoot?!”
“Sak… Rich and I just… we killed four people. I’m only asking you do this.”
Mursak sighs, knowing he’ll have a hard time arguing against the blood on my hands. “Fine.” Mursak disrobes his jacket, jeans, and shoes as I remove the corpse’s clothes and hat; fortunately, the knit cap only has blood on one side. In another thirty seconds, Mursak is passably dressed like the departed, even though the boots are too big. He takes a moment to figure out the M-16, removing the magazine, replacing it, and chambering a round. I want to ask him what he knows about operating this weapon, but it can wait.
I take the lead once again, trotting quietly up the stairs while keeping my head on a swivel. Once at the top, I sneak up to the door and get a look into the third floor hallway, which is much longer thanks to the breezeway I noticed while we were outside. I turn back to find Rich and Mursak in the same positions they were before.
“Can I not do this?” Mursak asks anxiously.
“No choice…” I reply, preparing to channel Anderson. “A good plan today’s better than a perfect one tomorrow.”
“What do I do after I walk past the door?”
“Go a few feet and stop. Thumbs up if you see the girls, show us on your fingers if you see any of them.”
“And then?”
“We open the door.” Rich starts. “And that’s it… O.K. Corral.”
We silently contemplate the implications of Rich’s proposed scenario. I take a moment to realize that my veins are still flooded with adrenaline and decide that being too cautious is just as likely to get me killed as being impetuous. “Give me my gun.” I reach out and Rich hands me my pistol out of the back of his pants. My spare magazines are downstairs, so I have eight shots total. I glance through the door again, then open it slowly and look through the tiny window to scan down the adjacent hall.
Finding no one, I step out into the hallway and locate the nearest classroom door with Mursak and Rich immediately behind me. Contrary to my opinion on the first floor, I find that the classroom immediately to my left, facing the courtyard, is room 302. Despite there being no adjacent rooms, they are numbered evenly. Each door has two glass panes; the one on the bottom is frosted and the one on the top is clear, so I have to poke my head up to get a look. The body of the sniper is lying on the floor of 304, looking undisturbed.
Passing 306, I start to hear whispering mixed with some kind of moaning or grunting. I swallow hard and turn back to Mursak. His eyes dart around for a moment before he slowly nods, adjusting the blood spot on the hat to face the right and switching the M-16 over to his left to obscure his face. “Grey…” Mursak whispers. “What if I get to the breezeway and call out for-” The door to 308 opens.
We all freeze in place as a man dressed in camouflage walks out and turns directly toward us. “What the fu-” Rich ends him, but the suppressed gunshot echoes down every hallway in the building; that last bullet was definitely not subsonic. Using logic I’ll never be able to explain, I get up and run directly for the opening to see a naked girl scrambling across the floor in the darkened room and another camouflaged man sitting in a chair, pointing a pistol at me. I turn back and duck, hearing the shot simultaneously with the sensation of a bowling ball fired out of a catapult slamming into my back.
I can’t move and I’ve either had the wind knocked out of me or been paralyzed. Rich grabs my arm and drags me out of the doorway as a series of shots ring out from the room coupled with indecipherable screaming. “Are you okay?!” Rich shouts. I’m not recovered enough to answer, but I manage to grab the doorway outcropping and pull myself into view as Rich desperately tries to hold me back. I get a look in the darkness long enough to see Melody’s nude silhouette and the camouflaged man taking deep breaths as blood oozes out of his chest.
“Go away!” Melody shouts as Rich drags me out of the doorway. My thighs twitch as I blink repeatedly and try to catch my breath. My body contorts with a series of shocking chemical eruptions and I stand up before I realize what’s happened, ripping off my bullet-proof vest to reveal a 9mm round buried in the small of the back. Unsurprisingly, I find myself removing the smashed bullet as a keepsake before picking up my Colt and moving inside the room.
Melody, now dressed, is hunched over in the corner above Helen, who I can barely see thanks to the ambient light coming through the shaded windows. After a moment, Helen stands and Melody leads her toward the motionless corpse on the ground, taking his pistol. Before I can say a word, Melody wraps her arms around me and squeezes hard, sending electric shards of pain flashing through my lower back. The sound I make is sufficient for her to let go.
“Sorry…” She whines.
“How many more are there?” Mursak asks.
“Five, maybe…?”
“We killed four others.” Rich offers.
“Two? I dunno, not many…”
“Let’s get out of here…” Mursak mutters.
Melody nods, leading us toward the stairwell cradling the M-16. She holds us back from the door and kicks the pressure bar, setting off a barrage of automatic fire from the stairwell that sends sparks caroming off the steel frame and forces the door stop into the holder on the wall. Someone in our group screams, and I don’t rule myself out until I realize my mouth is open and I’m still hyperventilating. “Stop…” I turn to face Rich as he speaks, finding his eyes trained on Mursak as he heads for the breezeway with Helen.
“What?!” Sak snarls.
“What are you doing?” Rich asks.
“Do you wanna get shot?”
“…if we run, he’s comin’ right up those steps!”
“We’ve gotta draw him out…” I interrupt.
“How?” Rich asks, turning to me.
“Talk him down.”
“And you think he’ll listen?”
“Of course not… but if we can distract him…”
Without a word, Melody steps toward the doorway and swipes her arm through the opening, inviting another hail of gunfire followed by four clicks of a trigger with no bullets to displace. She walks through the door and disappears past the railing as a quick burst of fire echoes out of the hollow chamber. I try to rush forward, but Rich grabs my arm. The halls are quiet, save for a few thin, struggling gasps from the stairs.
A moment later, Melody walks back into the doorway, staring at the four of us incredulously. “…well?” We pile into the stairwell after her, finding our erstwhile assailant gasping for air while his fingers scrape at one of the half-dozen holes in his chest. As she passes, Melody kicks an empty magazine away from him, sending it clattering down the steps for us to chase.
“Move-move-move!” Mursak calls out, checking the second floor doorway as we continue past him. When we hit the bottom, the group falls into silence. Rich sights down the hallway to which Dave once retreated, and Mursak aims toward the main entrance. Both of them wave and we spill through the door. Keeping my eyes peeled, I reunite myself with my undisturbed clothing articles and rifle while Mursak grabs the binoculars.
As we set eyes upon the Humvee parked against the glass, I get a massive swell of comfort. We may just survive this. Maintaining cover, Rich gets in the driver’s seat of the Humvee and stares at the ignition switch in confusion. “What?” I ask, standing just outside the door and staring into the snowy distance. Rich shakes his head.
“Anderson told me how to start these…” He starts. “But I can’t remember…?”
“We’r
e on the clock, Rich… can you figure it out?”
“Uh… yeah… I gotta… it’s the cable?”
Rich continues to work away at the panel while the rest of us stand around anxiously. Melody tries to walk past me into the courtyard, but something in me prevents her from stepping into the falling snow. Whereas I felt comfortable before, I’ve begun feeling nervous again; this is taking too long, and if there’s anyone left on their side, I’m worried what their retribution might look like. On the other hand, if we get the vehicle started, I can’t imagine anyone mounting a successful campaign against us. Unless, of course, they have hand grenades.
Rich starts the engine and smiles at me. Mursak hops in the passenger’s seat as Melody guides Helen toward the back when a gunshot precedes a burst of snow blowing up in front of me. I grab both of them and throw them toward the building while diving for cover myself. I quickly check the three of us for wounds and find nothing. Another shot bellows out from above, the report echoing for what sounds like miles; one of the remaining men is in the sniper’s perch. Leaving the Humvee running, Rich pops opens the door and leaps out.
“What…?!” I screech.
“No survivors.” Rich interrupts.
“Fuck! Well what do we do?”
“Keep him talking.”
“…what!?”
I’m met with silence as Rich pulls up his rifle and checks the hallway on his way to the stairwell. What am I supposed to say? Rich is toast if I don’t find a way to distract this guy, but I can’t imagine he’s in the mood for a conversation. Nevertheless, I can’t dawdle.
“STOP!”
“What?!” The voice above calls out.
“Stop…” I shout. “…we don’t have to do this!”
“…are you kidding me?!”
“We don’t want a fight!”
“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME!?” He screams back.
“You took us!” Melody shouts back. “Y’know… I’m gonna rip your fuckin’ sack off…”
She wrestles forward with her M-16 ready. It takes both Mursak and me to restrain her.
“We just did it so you’d stop shooting! It was a mistake, god dammit… we tried to tell you and you didn’t fuckin’ listen!”
“…what?” I ask.
“…wait, n-n-no!”
A hollow click echoes out into the night as our aggressor is cut off abruptly. I look back as Mursak slowly sweeps his M-16 from right to left, carefully watching the inside of the building. Melody helps Helen to her feet and I step out toward the courtyard, looking at the hills that converge on the valley where the main building rests. I listen to the gentle and omnipresent echo of snowflakes touching into the ground with a resonance that gives the hazy distance a desolate voice. Thin red drops leap off the edge of the building behind us and melt through the flurry-dusted roof of the Humvee moments before I become aware of the slight ringing in my ears.
The stairwell door pops open, arresting everyone’s attention: Rich cautiously exits, pointing his thumb skyward. “Okay…” I say softly, opening the back door to the Humvee. I didn’t realize there were only two back seats. Helen breathes heavily as Melody guides her into the door and squeezes in next to her. I walk around to the other side as Mursak opens the passenger door, and as he turns, my eyes fixate on his blood stained cap. “Sak.” I arrest his attention immediately and draw my finger down my temple.
He grabs the hat and rips it off, throwing it to the ground and patting the side of his head rapidly. He’s fine. Rich starts the Humvee, backs up, and waits a moment. “What are you…” Rich shushes Melody before she can continue. I listen to the engine humming as we all stare into the school. A minute passes. Nothing stirs. Once satisfied, he turns the wheel toward the driveway, taking us past the M35 toward the parking lot. Mursak keeps his eyes buried in the binoculars, leering at the main building as Helen sobs in Melody’s arms. Helen whispers something, and then Melody looks over at me.
“Everyone else okay?” Melody asks.
“Anderson’s, uh… might be in a coma…” Helen cries harder as I continue. “The armor saved him… but we don’t… we left too quickly to know…”
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“…I don’t think so.”
I can feel Melody continuing to stare at me as I gaze out the window. As the adrenaline drains from my body, a searing pain invades my lower back along with a chorus of twitchy screams from my arm and leg muscles. The group remains silent as Rich drives us around the outside of the parking lot, looking back frequently. Once we make it to the main road, he stops again, and Mursak stands outside with his binoculars, zeroing in on the main building. After about a minute, Rich turns to address the group.
“We gotta get the Outback.”
“I’ll drive.” I offer.
“Can you drive stick?”
“I’ll just keep it in first gear.”
“…do you know what that means?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Mursak rejoins us as Rich pulls out on the street. The two of them chat briefly while I don’t pay attention. He pulls over next to the untouched Outback, letting Melody and me exit. Mursak opens his door and jumps out before we get to the car.
“We’re gonna stick around…”
“Okay…?” I reply.
“If there was anyone left, they saw us leave… Rich is gonna take the Humvee up the road. I’m just gonna run back and keep an eye out.”
“…is that safe?”
“…probably not.”
“Alright, be careful.”
He smiles at my exhausted unwillingness to battle. Once I start the car and get it in drive, I manage to back it out and get us on the road without too much difficulty. There’s no way I could follow the minimum speed limit or normal traffic patterns, but we’re moving. After I’ve pulled around the Humvee, I become aware of Melody furiously digging in the console. Her attention shifts to the glove box, then the side compartment.
“Uh…” I start.
“Smokes.”
“What?”
“…cigarettes, do we have any?” She grunts.
“…not in here…”
She bangs her hand on the dashboard, resting her wrist against her forehead as she looks out the window and sighs. “Are you okay?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize that they aren’t as casual as they sounded in my head.
“…no.” She mutters.
“…you wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
“…anything I can do?”
“Yeah, find me a fucking cigarette.”
I nod as we continue forward, looking in the rearview mirror at the vacant expanse of snow-swept darkness and wonder if there’s something else I can say. I can’t tell how much time passes before Melody takes a deep breath and mutters “Thank you.” I shrug, unable to conjure any better acknowledgement. Her eyes continue alternating between the windshield and me as we travel back to the high school.
As we approach our home from the street, I realize I’ve never been so happy to see a building in my life, but when I look above the auditorium, my heart drops out of my chest: the string of band uniforms, complete with letters duct-taped to the chests, are still hanging under the school banner. HUMANS INSIDE. After a whole debate about whether or not to hang a flag, we forgot to take down the crudely constructed sign that made us a target for exactly the type of atrocity we just experienced.
Though I’m well past the point of explaining what just happened, I imagine the people we just killed heard the helicopters and went looking for them, not expecting to find other people in the school. Hell, once they saw the sign they might have assumed whoever had survived in here had just been rescued. I pull the Outback into its inconspicuous parking spot at the edge of the stockade and get out. Melody ejects herself from the car and power-walks around the bus on what I assume must be a quest for tobacco.
As I make my way to the door, I only manage a passing glance at the bu
s tires before staggering through the gate. Once I’m done struggling up the ladder and over the railing, I slide out of my trench coat, take my belt off, remove my rifle, and have a seat on the bottom step to contemplate the living hell of my screaming muscles. I’m so used to my subconscious brain beating me up over the bad things I’ve done that I’m surprised to find my mind currently blank on the issue of murder.
Fortunately, I don’t have too long to work myself over; I can hear Rich parking the Humvee across the street, followed by sparing conversation as he walks back to the gate with Helen and Mursak. The three of them file through the door noisily in a moment that plainly personifies not giving a shit. They climb over the railing without saying a word to each other, passing me to go either up or down the steps. Rich is the last one over, and he has a seat next to me on the same step.
“You gonna be alright?” He asks.
“I don’t know.” I mutter. “Can you do me a favor… tell Karen, Jake and Ally what happened?”
“Yeah…”
“…thanks.”
“I’m gonna make some coffee…” Rich starts. “Jake and I’ll keep watch… you get some rest.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah… Merry Christmas.”
He gets up and goes upstairs. In the midst of everything we just went through, I managed to forget that it’s been the biggest holiday of the year for the past several hours. Images of Christmas mornings as recorded on Hi-8 tape roll through my head; my mom worked so hard for those moments, and after months of planning, saving, shopping, and wrapping, I think of how exhausted and relieved she felt to have this footie-wearing infant plod down the steps to open his Ghostbusters action figures.
I don’t know what I expected to feel by thinking myself through that, though I imagine I expected to cry. No such luck. I pick myself up and walk through the doors to the first-floor hallway, where the outcropping from each doorway has been pounded into dust by automatic fire, making the concrete bricks look not unlike chewed-up Swiss cheese. The floor is littered with chunks of rock and brass bullet shells, and it still smells like a lava vent due to all the sulfur in the air. I walk toward the lobby until I reach the connecting breezeway doors and stagger from one side to the other.