This Is Not a Drill

by Beck McDowell

  Emery leans in to point at something on the computer screen, but she’s switching on the phone with her other hand. I glance down at the “Silent” icon; she’s already turned the sound off.

  “It’s too risky to text,” she whispers. “Any way we might use it to get Internet on the computer?”

  “I haven’t had a chance, with the kids up here, to see if there’s any wireless capability. If this phone’s set up to act as a mobile Wi-Fi hot spot, we can use it like a modem.” I pull a notepad over the phone to hide it.

  “I’m gonna go help the kids color,” she says loud enough for Stutts to hear.

  “Sounds good,” I say, stretching like I’m bored.

  Stutts watches her sit with the kids, and then shifts his eyes back to the door. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to me.

  I search for a mobile hotspot icon. Yes. There it is. I switch it on, activate the Wi-Fi, and check the computer monitor for networks. Crap, please don’t ask me for a password. I don’t have a clue what— Great, the phone tells me how to access the network that pops up by entering the phone number as the password. It even tells me the phone number—nice.

  Here we go. I hold my breath.

  There it is. Beautiful! I’m online.

  Without looking over at Stutts, I adjust the screen toward me very casually so there’s no way he can see it. The keyboard’s hidden behind a pile of books. I pull up Facebook. Chat’s quicker than e-mail.

  What time is it? 10:25. Good timing. Cole’s in computer apps this period and he’s usually online. I glance at Stutts; he’s still watching the door.

  Facebook log in. Done. I hit the chat bar. Be there, Cole . . .

  Success! Cole Garrison is available to chat.

  I type: Cole, you there? I need help.

  Cole’s profile pic pops up with: hey bro where u?

  lincoln elementary. listen a crazy man with a gun is holding us hostage.

  good one dude

  no srsly. can you turn on the news?

  no shit man? yr not dickin with me?

  for real, i need yr help.

  name it jake

  can you get mr.chapman? need him to help me talk to the cops here to see what i need to do.

  hang on bro

  There’s a long pause while I wait for Cole to get our principal. C’mon, Cole, don’t leave me hangin’.

  And then he’s back: mrs d went to turn on tv next door, said shes sending me to the office if im making it up

  hurry. not sure how long i can talk.

  Stutts eyes me from across the room so I do a little fist pump like I’ve just scored. He turns to watch Emery with the kids.

  ok shes back. called office, chap is on the way.

  thx cole. i owe u

  u ok man?

  yes but he shot a security guard.

  shit—dude shootin people? who is he?

  a soldier home from iraq. really messed up.

  This is Mr. Chapman. I’ve got Chief Walker on phone. Is everyone ok there?

  we’re ok for now. the guy stutts doesnt know i have internet. i may have to shut down fast.

  Are the children ok?

  yes emerys got kids sitting on floor in back.

  Jake, no one is hurt?

  the security guard who got shot. can you tell us if hes ok?

  Chief says he’s in surgery. Is the shooter alone? Chief wants to know what he wants.

  yes. alone. says he just wants to take his son. hes in this class. patrick.

  How many children are still in the room?

  18

  Can you describe the gun for me? Does he have any other weapons?

  a pistol, dont know type. i guess he could have another gun—or a knife, but i havent seen one.

  Where is Stutts now?

  in chair near door. watching the door.

  Is there any other information you can give me?

  he said his wife wont let him see his kid. if you could find her and get her on the phone she might help.

  Chief says the police are already talking with her.

  is there something we should do here?

  Don’t be a hero, Jake. Nothing risky. Just try to keep him calm.

  gotta go.

  Chief says you should assume he will shoot. Don’t underestimate this guy.

  k

  They want to know if there’s any way you can get him to release the kids?

  tried. will try again.

  I can feel Stutts watching me, so I close the screen and bring the games back up. Then I stand up and yawn and stretch and walk to the back.

  “Good job, Kimberly,” I say, looking over her shoulder.

  “Is mine good?” Abbey asks.

  “It’s terrific.” I smile. “That is some mighty fine coloring, ladies.”

  I glance over at Patrick. He’s very still, watching the others color together. I walk to Mrs. Campbell’s printer, pull a blank sheet of paper from the tray, and hold it up for him to see. He looks puzzled until I lay it on her desk and quickly turn it into a paper airplane. I aim it toward him and his face lights up. When I launch it, we both wait to see where it will land. I must be livin’ right, because damn if that airplane doesn’t sail in a beautiful arc, just like I’d planned it that way, landing right on the table in front of Patrick. He picks it up and grins at me, then looks over at his dad.

  Stutts watches us, then turns away a little to take a quick pull from the flask in his pocket. Great, that’ll keep the fun rolling. But maybe he’ll let his guard down and I’ll have a chance to grab the gun.

  Simon has slipped to the back of the room and is reaching into Mr. Worley’s cage. He looks guilty when he sees me watching him, but I wink at him. They’re not supposed to mess with Mr. Worley without permission. I think Mrs. Campbell’s worried they’ll pet all the fur off him—like in The Velveteen Rabbit. It’s one of their favorite books.

  I walk back and pick up Mr. Worley’s cage and move it to the floor, motioning for Simon to sit with me. Nick, Tyler, Lewis, and Alicia come over when they see him take Mr. Worley out.

  “Mrs. Campbell said we’re not supposed to—” Alicia starts out.

  “I don’t think Mrs. Campbell would mind if we give Mr. Worley a little break from his cage.”

  Simon holds the hamster like a baby. He buries his face in Mr. Worley’s fur. Lewis reaches out for the hamster and Simon pulls away.

  “Hold on. You can have a turn next,” I tell Lewis.

  “He’s scared,” Simon whispers. “Scared he’s gonna die.”

  I lean down so I can look him straight in the eye. “You tell Mr. Worley that nobody’s going to die, okay?”

  His big eyes study my face. “But Mr. Worley saw that man shoot Mr. Higgins.”

  “The security guy? That’s his name—Higgins?”

  Simon nods.

  “Mr. Higgins is fine. I don’t think he got hit. He just rolled out of the way.”

  “Kenji said there was blood in the hall.”

  “But Mr. Higgins wasn’t there,” I tell him. “So I think he got up and ran away. You tell Mr. Worley not to worry.”

  He thinks about that for a minute, then says, “How many lives do we get?”

  “What?”

  “How many lives do we get after we die?”

  “Listen, buddy. You’ve been playin’ too many video games. That is a pretty deep question, and you’re gonna have to give me some time to think about it. Here, let’s give Lewis a turn.”

  Lewis reaches out, and I hand off Mr. Worley gently.

  Simon looks at me. “I want to go home.”

  “Soon. We’ll get you out of here soon.”

  “Can Mr. Worley go with me?”

  “I don’t see why not, if you bring him back tomorrow.”

  “You mean Monday,” Alicia corrects me.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot today’s Friday. Do you know what to feed him?”

  “Mrs. Campbell gives him lettuce and carrots,” Nick says.


  “I bet when you get home today, your parents’ll be happy to take you to get some lettuce and carrots for Mr. Worley,” I tell Simon. I reach over to mess up his hair and say in a silly voice, “Get him some food, Dude!” Our rhyme game pulls a smile from him.

  “I know how you can tell if a hamster is a boy or a girl,” Alicia announces.

  Great. A discussion about the birds and the bees would be dead last on the list of things I want to take on right now.

  “The boy hamsters have longer tails.”

  “Okaaay, that’s very interesting,” I jump in. “Break time’s over, Mr. Worley, back in your cage.” I look up to see Emery trying not to laugh at Alicia’s sex ed information. I shrug. Can that be true? Surely Alicia made that up. If there’s something sexual about hamster tails, I’ve never heard it before.

  Mr. Worley starts racing like a madman on his wheel the second I put his cage back on the counter.

  “He just runs and runs in circles,” Nick says, shaking his head.

  “Yep. I can relate.”

  “Ew, look,” Tyler squeals and points. Mr. Worley has paused in his race to huddle in a corner and take care of business. They all giggle as poop comes out and drops into the shavings on the floor of the cage. I can’t really blame Mr. Worley for having the shit scared out of him.

  “Mr. Worley,” I tell him, “I feel exactly the same way.”

  CHAPTER 15

  EMERY

  The clock makes a clicking noise. Eleven o’clock. I glance at the schedule on the wall and turn to Stutts. “I think the kids usually eat now. Do you think we could get them some food?”

  “Nobody’s coming in, and nobody’s going out!” he snarls.

  “Okay. Well, some of the kids brought their lunches. Maybe they can share.”

  “I will,” Rose says. “My mama puts too much in, anyway.”

  “Miss Emery, I have some cupcakes,” Simon says quietly, glancing at Stutts.

  “That’s great. How many do you have, sweetie?”

  “A whole bunch. It’s my birthday, so my mom sent them.”

  “Oh, Simon, is it really your birthday? Today?”

  He nods solemnly and points at the birthday chart on the wall.

  “You didn’t even tell us, Pieman,” Jake says. “Happy birthday!”

  Simon looks down at his feet.

  “We’ll save them for dessert,” I say. I turn to the others. “Maybe all of you could put what you brought on the table to share.”

  In no time at all the table’s heaped high with sandwiches, potato chips, carrot sticks, grapes, fruit bars, cookies, juice boxes—you name it. It’s amazing how politely they each pick out something to eat.

  “Let’s have a picnic on the carpet,” I tell them, unwilling to give up the safety of keeping their heads down low. Then something makes me add, “Mr. Jake knows how much I like picnics.”

  He looks at me and beams. It’s the first time I’ve willingly acknowledged our past.

  “Would you like something to eat?” I ask him as I choose several snacks to hand to Patrick.

  “No, thanks. Those little bites of food won’t do me much good. I need to eat something that recently made noise.”

  Rose looks up and makes a face.

  “Sorry, Rosie,” Jake says. “I’m a carnivore. What can I say?”

  “Carnivores eat meat,” Alicia says.

  “We do indeed,” he answers.

  “Can I pass the cupcakes out?” Simon asks.

  “Sure. And I think I saw cups in the cabinet. Maybe we can pour a little from the juice boxes we have so everyone will have something to drink.” I look at Stutts, but he ignores me. He’s gone quiet again, which is actually even scarier than his manic mode.

  Simon goes to the shelf above the cubbies and picks up a cardboard box with a taped-on lid and foil sticking out. He lifts the lid and holds it out to me proudly. Blue icing with sprinkles on top.

  “Blue’s my favorite color,” Simon says.

  “They look delicious, sweetheart.”

  “Happy birthday, Simon,” Alicia says, and others chime in.

  “Hey, we need to sing,” Janita says.

  “We don’t have any candles.” Natalie shakes her head sadly.

  “But we can pretend,” I tell her, pantomiming putting a candle in a cupcake, lighting a match, holding it to the pretend candle, then handing it to Simon, who watches me, eyes shining. “Can you help me sing the song, Natalie?”

  She starts the first few notes and we all join in to sing the birthday song, with Mason Mayfield III ending, predictably, with, “You look like a monkey and you smell like one, too.” Simon closes his eyes and blows a soft breath across his cupcake.

  “Did you make a wish?” Rose asks shyly.

  Simon nods and cuts his eyes at Stutts, who’s staring blankly toward the door. His huge shoulders have slumped; his expression is vacant.

  I’m wishing, too, Simon.

  Simon sets down his cupcake and reaches for two more. Before I can stop him, he marches across the room, hands one to Patrick, and holds the other one out to Stutts, cradling it in outstretched hands like a robin’s egg.

  It takes the big man a couple of seconds to react. He looks down at the offering and at the trembly smile of its presenter, and his face relaxes just a little.

  “Uh, thanks, I’m not hungry.”

  Simon shrugs and walks slowly back. He replaces the cupcake in the box, then looks at me questioningly, as if wondering if he’s done the right thing. I reach over and hug him, my eyes misting at the amazing capacity of kids to respond with love to the chaos around them.

  I finish pouring juice and bottled water, then pass out drinks to the kids who don’t have their own. “Lefty loosey, righty tighty,” I whisper to Lewis, who’s struggling with a screw-top plastic juice bottle. He sighs and twists in the opposite direction, popping it open immediately.

  “Mason, no cupcake until after lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, lips covered in blue frosting.

  “Hey, Emery, can you bring one of those up here?” Jake calls from the computer. He’s drifted back up to it while the kids are eating.

  “Do I look like the pastry waitress?” I ask, but I know he’s calling me up for a reason, so I pick up one of the cupcakes and walk over.

  Stutts is dividing his attention between the door and the kids, who are happily chowing down on their shared feast. He takes advantage of the lunch distraction to take several more gulps from his flask.

  “Thanks,” Jake says, but he barely looks at the cupcake I set next to him. “Hey, take a look at this game I found,” he says, kinda loud. “Have you ever played this one before?”

  I look at the screen. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. We finally have a connection to the outside world and he’s on Facebook with Cole?

  “I think the best strategy,” Jake says in a chatty tone, “is to hold down the button while you aim the grenade.”

  I keep my expression normal while whispering through gritted teeth, “Really, Jake? You’re talking to Cole?”

  Stutts doesn’t seem concerned with us right now, and the kids are getting louder while they eat, so we take this opportunity to argue under our breaths.

  “What have you got against Cole?”

  “Other than the fact that he’s an insensitive racist misogynist? Nothing.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve seen how he treats girls. Jake, we need help. How can you chat with Cole when we’re in terrible danger?”

  “Read it, Emery. I went through him to get help from the police.”

  The word police rings out through a lull in the kids’ conversations and I freeze. I don’t dare look at Stutts, but my entire body radiates fear as I wait for his reaction. The seconds drag by and the kids go back to their chatter. I start breathing again and scroll backward to read Jake’s chat with Cole (and our principal, it turns out).

  “See, you have to hit this target first,” Jak
e says out loud, giving me time to read. “It’s kind of like that other game we used to play. What was the name of that game? It was back in middle school and I can’t think of what it was called, but we played it all the time.” He’s rambling and I offer some vague answer.

  Just as I get to the end, the chat screen pops up again and Cole is there. Or maybe it’s Mr. Chapman.

  jake u there?

  that you, cole?

  yep. chief said tell you theyre talking to the wife, her names silda, to see if she can talk him down.

  There’s more, but I can’t read the rest. Alarm bells are going off in my head and an icy chill runs down my back. I grab Jake’s arm. Silda. He said Silda. Stutts’s wife’s name is Silda!

  “Jake,” I whisper frantically. “I know her!”

  “Who?” he asks.

  “Silda.” I drop my voice, and Jake leans in to hear me. “That’s Molly’s cousin, the one with the crazy husband who tried to kill her. Oh God, Brian Stutts must be the husband, the one she called the cops on when he beat her up!”

  Jake’s looking at me like I’m speaking Swahili.

  “I can’t believe Molly’s related to Patrick and I never knew it. Oh, Jake, I’ve heard terrible stories about this guy!”

  CHAPTER 16

  JAKE

  EMERY’S STARING AT THE SCREEN, her eyes wide.

  “Wait, Molly’s cousin is Patrick’s mom? You know her?” I’m having trouble keeping up.

  “I’ve never met her. They just moved back here last year.” Emery looks over at Stutts, but the kids are too loud for him to hear us talking this low. “He went crazy and attacked her while she was asleep. She woke up with his hands around her throat. She realized he was still asleep and started fighting him, but before she could wake him up, he punched her in the face and broke her cheekbone.”