uniform and proceeded to ask her out. Lauren had expected Rhoda to turn the bellicose Lloyd down flat, considering the way he was acting. Instead she had agreed, and from then on they were hardly ever apart.
"Any idea what this is about, Ms. Ortiz," Jimmy Hack asked?
"Ms. Ortiz," Lauren thought. Then she remembered that part of the ROTC training was manners, especially toward one's elders, and especially toward women. Still, it felt awkward.
"Well Captain Hack," She began, amused at how the young man tried to keep from beaming at being addressed by his rank. "I honestly don't know. But something disturbing is going on. Now let me ask you something. Does Mr. Haynes lock his door often?"
"No Ma'am." Becca Morgan spoke up then continued. " Strange! I didn't realize that he had locked it until you knocked. It must have been what he was doing right after the Headmaster announced that strange lunch schedule. Pork chops! We've never had pork chops as long as I've been here."
"Come to think of it neither have I," Lauren mused. Then a thought hit her. She walked to the next classroom door and tried to open it. Locked.
"Hmm," she said with a nod. "I've got a feeling that if you went to every classroom you'd find them locked. My guess is that pork chop is some kind of code that institutes a general lock down."
As they walked past the front door something caught Lauren's eye causing her to stop in mid stride. "Oh my," was all she could say.
"Wow!" James Hack seconded.
"Dear God," Becca Morgan chimed in.
There outside the entrance sat the smoldering bullet riddled cruiser of Patrolman Lawrence Harper.
The dead cruiser's hypnotic spell was broken with the Headmaster's voice over the intercom.
"Attention in the building. Attention in the building. All teachers and administrative staff report to the cafeteria at once. All students are to remain in the classroom they are currently in. I repeat…"
Lloyd – Following Orders
At first it was hard to know exactly what was coming up the driveway. Steam and smoking oil had combined to obscure the cruiser with an effective smoke screen giving it the appearance of a dying earth bound comet. Braden and Lloyd kept both distance and pace as they rounded the southern end of the main building. It was when the cruiser turned north on its final parallel approach, that they could make out the Schonefield P.D. insignia, or more accurately, what was left of it. To Lloyd it looked like generations of good ol' boys had turned their rifles from shooting roadside signs to shooting police cars. The perforated trunk hatch waved at them like a macabre fly swatter. Pieces of the cruiser continued to drop off as it rolled to a final stop just cater-cornered of the entrance doors.
Braden and Lloyd reached the smoking hulk just as Mrs. Glass and Headmaster Morgan dashed out the building. Already Patrolman Harper had the door swinging open when one of the hinges broke causing its arc to alter and wedge the door edge fast in the concrete.
Braden pulled lead and yelled at Lloyd to check for fluid leaks while he checked the driver. It was hard to tear his eyes from the amount of bullet holes that the car had absorbed. Quickly he checked under the car. The gas tank miraculously seemed intact but up front, under the motor, was a different story. There viscous fluid had already formed a spreading puddle on the ground.
"Gas tank seems okay, same for the oil pan as far as I can see. But the motor's leaking like a sieve. How's the driver?"
"I'm hit, but it's nothing serious," Officer Harper answered. Lawrence Harper was someone both Braden and Lloyd knew and liked. "You better get up," he continued. "That engine's red hot and I'm afraid something flammable gonna catch anytime."
"Larry you're okay thank God," this was Mr. Morgan. "I received your transmission, at least until your vide gave up the ghost. Come in quickly. Let's see what we can do about patching you up."
"Braden grab my pistol and shotgun," Harper said. "But be careful. Lloyd can you grab the first aid kit? I think it's on the passenger side floor."
Lloyd went to open the passenger side door but the handle was gone, shot away. So was most of the passenger side window for that matter. A carefully aimed kick caved the glass inward. Trying to ignore the scene inside the cruiser, Lloyd scanned the floorboard and located the kit. Leaning through the opening and supporting his weight with his left hand on the passenger seat, Lloyd reached and grabbed the first aid kit. As he started to lean out something warm and metallic seemed to pop into his left hand. Instinctively, he clutched it in his fingers as he turned to head back inside.
"You okay Lloyd?" Mrs. Glass said, standing at the entrance doors. In Lloyd's mind she seemed to disappear like a wraith the moment he nodded his affirmation.
Inside it was just a deserted hallway and admin office. Just a normal looking school day for all intents and purposes. Lloyd headed for the Headmaster's office when Braden came out and cut him off. Braden looked paler than usual as he intercepted Lloyd in front of Mrs. Glass desk.
"Bray?" was all Lloyd could say as Braden handed him the all too familiar set of keys.
"Lo, All I know is that there is something heavy duty going down, and Headmaster wants the Rifles out and armed for it. No dummy stuff either; we're to go hot." he said.
"Go down to the arms room prep all, I mean all, private as well as the M1's, including clips and ammo. Headmaster wants his 45 ready; same thing clips and ammo. Lauren's been sent to get 'Becca and Jimmy, I'll sent them on to help you. Between the three of you I expect the Tippecanoe Rifles to be locked, cocked and standing tall in no less than twenty minutes from now. Got it?" His last words were something Lloyd had never heard before from Braden – the harsh bark of an order that countenanced no dissention.
"S-Sure, Bray, eh, I mean Colonel, I'm on it," Lloyd said. His voice betrayed his confusion, his face hurt at the sudden change in address from his best friend.
It was then Braden did something Lloyd would never forget in a day that would be filled with unforgettable events. He put his hands on Lloyd's shoulders.
"Lo, I don't know what's going on but Harper's sure been through it. It looks like he'll make it fine. He just caught a spent ricochet in the shoulder." He paused as if the sure enormity of what he was about to say was too much. "He said that the Schonefield P.D. is gone maybe the whole town. Saw the station fall on his vide. Whoever's doing this is using tractor- trailers as transports. That's when Morgan gave me my orders. I suspect that the Headmaster figures there's a better than good chance that whatever it is…"
He took a deep breath,"…will end up eventually heading this way. I'm sure his reason for activating the Rifles is just a precaution, but he wants us up and ready in any case. You're a good friend Lloyd, the best. And I know you don't want to hear this, you've been a fine officer. I couldn't have ask for a better number one. But if I have to be commander in this crisis, I need your backing. Live ammo in weapons on campus is violating more Federal regulations than you can shake a stick at. Morgan could lose the school if this all turns out to be one big misunderstanding. At the very least, those yahoos that want the ROTC program to go away will probably get their wish."
He took his hands off Lloyd's shoulders. "So if you want to take a swing at somebody, I guess I'm as good as anyone to swing at."
"Huh?" Lloyd stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
Braden motioned to his clenched left fist.
"You've been making that every since you came in the building," he said. "I figured you wanted to take a poke at somebody."
"No," Lloyd said, and told how something had popped into his hand while leaning on the car seat. "I figured it was a piece of metal and was going to throw it in the trash first chance."
He unclenched his fist and both boys gasped.
In his palm, in near pristine condition was a 5.56 round. Ammunition issued to military armies most of whom decidedly unfriendly to the United States.
Lauren and Braden had been asked by Mr. Morgan to join the teacher's meeting while Lloyd and the juniors worked weapons prep. Mrs. Glas
s appeared considerably calmer since both the Headmaster and Lauren had assured her of the safety of her grandson. She remained in Morgan's office seated in front of a bank of four monitors. Each screen changing every four seconds unless given the command to stop from a control panel, the monitors were tied in to a passive security system on the Harrison firing range over three miles away. Morgan had remotely trained the cameras for maximum range giving Mrs. Glass specific instructions on what to look for. In particular, any sudden flush of wildlife was to be reported to him immediately. Naturally the same applied to any armed men suddenly appearing within camera range. The last thing he did was to set the vide machines running. Any detected movement bigger than a raccoon would lock the tracking system in place and sound a silent alarm in the office.
The teachers assembled in the cafeteria quickly and quietly. Mr. Morgan had hired his staff with meticulous care. All were veterans of combat situations, either directly or in direct support capability. Veterans from conflicts far a field as Grenada and the Middle East to the Taiwan Crisis of '15 now served as teachers at HTS. All had the requisite training in their fields, many with advanced degrees. Morgan believed in rewarding veterans far beyond the lip service most politicians paid them. As a result, he had in front of him not only educators, but also people generally inured to panic in high
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