by Cheree Alsop
WHEN I REACHED THE school, police cars, fire engines, and two ambulances were already out front. The sheriff waved me down as soon as he spotted me. Deputies crowded around us.
“We’re waiting for SWAT to show up. We have all the exits covered, and a team is standing by,” Sheriff Bowley told me. His face was pale, but he was calm and in control. “Jagger said it was the Brown Hawk gang.”
I nodded. “That’s what Magnum told me. They’re looking for the Black Rider.”
His expression tightened. “This has gotten out of hand.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied. “Has anyone been in contact since Magnum’s call?”
“Mr. Monroe got a call out right after we heard from Jagger, but they took his phone away and told us they would shoot anyone else who tried, so we would be better off not trying to call in.” His expression said there was more he didn’t want to tell me.
“What else did they say?” I pressed.
He let out a breath through his teeth. “That they would let everyone go if we sent in the Black Rider.”
“I’m going in.”
Sheriff Bowley shook his head. “We’re waiting for SWAT before we begin negotiations.”
My gaze was hidden beneath the tinted visor, so I used Uncle Rick’s steel-laced tone. “If I can save lives or stall the gang, it’s worth it.”
He shook his head. “They’re armed. You could get shot.”
“I’ve been shot,” I replied. “Better me than anyone else.”
“I’m not going to let you do that.”
I revved the motorcycle. “I’m driving through the glass if you don’t open that door,” I said in a deadly calm voice.
“I can’t do that,” he said.
I lowered my head and rolled the throttle, then released the clutch. The bike sped toward the two glass doors that made up the main entrance to the gymnasium. Two deputies stood in the way. At the last minute, one of them pulled a door open and let me through.
I paused just inside the hallway and grabbed a gun from my backpack. My heart began to pound harder at the weight of the weapon. I pulled off my right glove and shoved it in my pocket. The gauze around my left palm made it necessary to keep the other glove on.
Shouts and screams of fear sounded from the gymnasium doors at the end of the hallway. My heart raced at the thought of Cassidy and the other students in trouble. I shoved the gun into the waist of my pants and gunned the motorcycle.
I hit the gymnasium doors without slowing. They flew open with a splintering crash. My motorcycle roared across the polished wooden floor. Time slowed to the pace of my heartbeat. I saw the frantic faces of the two gang members who had been guarding the doors. The sound of my motorcycle was loud in the gym, echoing against the brick walls and bouncing back with the sound of a jet engine.
Gang members turned, their faces reflecting their shock. Several lifted weapons and aimed them in my direction. I ripped the gun from my waist and, holding in the clutch with my left, fired with my right hand.
Members of the Brown Hawk gang scattered. Several had the presence of mind to return fire; luckily I was a moving target and most of the bullets whizzed past me. One struck the headlight of my motorcycle, shattering it. Another clipped the side of my helmet.
Brown Hawk members surrounded the teachers and Principal Dawson in the middle of the gymnasium. The principal was sporting a bruised face and his usually pressed suit was ripped. Several of the teachers were in a similar condition. Anger flared in my chest at the way they had been treated.
I gunned the motorcycle toward the group. Before the Brown Hawks could react, I shot two of them in the shoulder. A Brown Hawk built like a bear aimed a gun at my head. I jumped off the motorcycle and slammed a fist into his face before my feet hit the ground. My momentum knocked him back several feet before he slumped unconscious to the ground. My side ached from the force; I held a hand to it in the hopes of keeping the stitches from tearing.
My motorcycle slid on its side to the far wall. Gang members rushed me from both sides. For a split second, my promise to Madelyn surfaced. I wouldn’t cause her more pain. I would do my best to get back to her.
I ducked a punch and hit one attacker in the stomach, then spun around and caught another on the side of his head with my elbow. I chopped an arm hard enough to send a gun flying, then bashed the man in the face with my own gun. I turned and shot, catching one Brown Hawk in the shoulder and another in the leg. Both fell screaming to the ground. I fought to catch my breath at the pain screaming in my side, but there wasn’t time to rest.
“Run,” I shouted to the teachers and principal. With their captors running for cover, they took off toward the bleachers, intent on protecting their students.
I ran for the motorcycle. Several Brown Hawk members stood in my way. I clipped two with lucky shots, sending them sprawling to the floor. Another dropped to one knee and shot. I hit him in the shoulder and he fell back with a cry of pain. The bullet he got off tugged at my jacket on its way past.
The sound of the rubber bullets Jagger had loaded into my gun echoed strangely in my helmet as they hit their targets. A part of me that was detached from the danger was grateful I wasn’t using lethal ammunition, though Jagger had assured me the rubber bullets would kill just as easily if I wasn’t careful with my aim.
I ran past students crouched in fear on the bleachers that lined the north side of the gymnasium. The football team was in uniform and shielded the cheerleaders behind them. The Brown Hawk gang had surprised the school in the middle of a pep rally. My heart clenched at the sight of boyfriends hiding their girlfriends behind them, protecting them with their bodies. The teachers reached them and began pulling students to hide underneath the bleachers. Principal Dawson directed the students where to find shelter.
I pulled the motorcycle upright. The movement sent a sharp, angry pain through my side. I blew out a breath and turned back. A teacher ran past me. I grabbed his arm and realized it was Mr. Monroe, my chemistry teacher who had braved the threats of the gang and called the police in the first place.
“Get the students out through that door,” I said, indicating the one I had smashed. “I’ll keep them busy.”
“I—I’ll try,” he said.
Several gang members hid behind the bleachers on the opposite side from the students. One cried out in pain and fell over, then another. I fought back a grim smile at the sight of Bullet members in football gear beating them down. One Brown Hawk grappled with Magnum, trying to drive a thumb into his eye as he held the Bullet leader in a headlock. I took careful aim; the bullet struck the gang member in the thigh. He fell to the ground screaming. Magnum gave me a thumbs-up.
Two more Brown Hawks had taken cover behind the podium near the door. A knee showed. It was a small target and I wasn’t sure of the bullet’s accuracy. I aimed, let out a slow breath, and squeezed the trigger steadily as Jagger had taught me. The gang member jumped with a scream of agony. His move forced the other member into the open. He froze and stared at me, knowing he couldn’t reach cover before I shot him. He dropped to the ground and put his hands behind his head.
Under Mr. Monroe’s supervision, students began to flee the gym. Teachers shielded them as they ran, placing themselves between the students and the danger. From my vantage point, I could see them rush down the hall. Deputies opened the doors as soon as they drew near. Sheriff Bowley’s team rushed in. Soon, the Brown Hawk members would be overrun.
I surveyed the room. My heart slowed at the sight of two Brown Hawks taking aim at the students. One stood on the bleachers while the other was partially hidden at the end. I pulled the trigger twice.
The first bullet struck the one on the bleachers hard enough to spin him around. The other hit a bleacher close to the second Brown Hawk and bounced off. He ducked out of sight. I revved the motorcycle and sped down the length of the bleachers. I reached the end in time to see the man pick up a folding chair and throw it.
I dropped the gun a
nd grabbed the brake, holding up an arm to block the chair. It hit my shoulder and side. I spun the motorcycle on its back tire and kicked the man in the chin hard enough to snap his neck back and send him to the floor. Magnum, Mauser, and Saw ran out to make sure he stayed down.
“You better get outta here,” Magnum said. He pointed toward the entrance. Deputies were rushing in. Two grabbed the gang members by the doors and handcuffed them. The one I had shot in the knee still howled in pain. Other deputies helped the students outside and protected the teachers as they made their way through the broken doors.
I saluted Magnum and gunned the motorcycle to the middle of the gym floor, then spun it in a tight circle. I doubted the principal would mind the rubber I left given the circumstances. I waited until the students were clear, then sped through the doors. I passed several deputies in the hallway and was grateful they knew not to shoot me. A surprised deputy at the doors pulled them open before I hit the glass. I flew down the sidewalk and across the grass, then jumped the curb and raced through the parking lot.
I smiled at the sight of SWAT trucks speeding toward the school. I waved when I passed them, regardless of the stupidity of such an action. I was just glad someone was on their way to help the sheriff with the rest of the madness.
WHEN I REACHED THE Ashbys’, everyone was in a state of panic. I was swarmed the second I stopped in the driveway.
“Where have you been?” Mom demanded. “I’ve been worried sick! You can’t just disappear like that.”
“We kept trying to reach your cell phone,” Aunt Lauren said.
Uncle Rick regarded me with a solemn expression that said I’d better have a good explanation for making everyone worry.
I ducked my head to pull off my helmet with the least amount of stress to my throbbing side. Mom gave a frustrated huff and pulled the helmet off for me; she was about to throw it to the ground when Uncle Rick caught it out of her hands.
“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the bullet mark along the left side.
I could feel the dampness through my jacket and knew I had torn stitches. The thought of getting them redone made me nauseated. I didn’t have Madelyn to run to when I needed her. I wondered how she was doing. I missed her so much it hurt.
“What is this?” Uncle Rick yelled.
I went with the truth. “A bullet hit it,” I said.
“What?” Mom gasped.
Aunt Lauren’s hand flew to her mouth. “Where were you?”
Uncle Rick watched me carefully. “At the school,” I told them. “The Brown Hawk gang had everyone held hostage in the gym. Magnum called me, so I went to help.”
I climbed off the bike amid their stares.
“Go call the school,” Uncle Rick told Aunt Lauren. She took off for the house. “Were you shot?” he asked me quietly.
I shook my head. “But I think I need to go to the hospital this time. I’m sure I tore some stitches.”
“Kelson,” Mom said with more worry than reprimand.
Uncle Rick checked me over quickly with the proficiency of a farmer used to surveying his cattle for ailments. He unzipped my jacket and looked at the blood soaking through my shirt. “Did you tear them all?” he asked, more to himself than to me.
Mom helped him gently lift the edge of the vest, and then he said a string of words I had never heard together. Aunt Lauren would have been appalled.
I cracked a smile. “What does that mean?”
His eyebrows creased. “That you’re an idiot and should let the cops handle things once in a while.”
“They are now,” I replied. “And SWAT showed up as I was leaving.”
“Let me get some towels to help slow the bleeding, then we’ll head to the hospital,” Uncle Rick said, hurrying toward the house faster than I had ever seen him move.
“Kelson, I’m tired of this,” Mom said. I looked up at the tone of her voice. Her eyebrows were pinched together and she shook her head. “I can’t stand seeing you get hurt anymore. I’m tired of you running off and worrying if you’re going to get yourself killed! You aren’t careful and you don’t think when you get into these situations.” Tears shone in her eyes, tempering her anger.
“I do think, Mom,” I protested. One side of me said she was just concerned as a mother should be, but the other was hurt at the fact that she doubted me. “I think of Maddy and what it would do to her if I was killed.”
Her face washed with white. I flinched at the pain I saw on her face. “Mom, I just—”
“Kelson, get in the truck,” Uncle Rick said, jogging back to us. He pressed a towel against my side, set another one on top, and opened the door to his new Dodge Ram.
“You sure you want me to get blood all over your new truck?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Just get in.”
Mom followed me inside and pulled the door shut without a word. Aunt Lauren appeared back outside and Uncle Rick hurried to her. Mom unrolled the window so we could listen.
“Cassidy is okay. She called before I got to the phone. The police say the situation is under control and all the gang members are arrested. The kids are safe. They’re sending the buses home—where are you taking Kelson?” she asked in surprise.
“He needs to go to the hospital before he bleeds out in my truck,” Uncle Rick explained.
“What should I do?” Aunt Lauren asked in a voice close to tears.
“Wait here for the kids. Call Sarah’s cell phone when they get home so I know everyone’s really all right,” Uncle Rick told her.
He kissed his wife quickly and climbed in the driver’s seat. The diesel engine rumbled to life.
“Wait!” Aunt Lauren called. She waved something in the air. I squinted and recognized my helmet. A quick check showed I was still in my Black Rider outfit. We had almost blown my cover.
“Good thinking,” Uncle Rick said, accepting the helmet and handing it to Mom. She stared at the bullet gouge across the side like it truly had taken my life.
“I’m all right, Mom,” I said gently.
She shook her head with tears in her eyes. “You’re not,” she said. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”
“AS MUCH AS I like to redo my handiwork, this is pushing it,” Dr. Carrison said.
My side was numb, re-stitched, and wrapped. “Thanks again,” I replied. My voice cracked from my dry throat. My head felt strangely light, as though it were filled with helium. I knew I was in shock. The emotions of the last few days hammered against me. I put a hand to my head in an effort to slow my thoughts.
“Drink some water,” Dr. Carrison said with a kind smile. “You’ll feel better. It’s been quite the day.”
I complied and sipped from a plastic cup on a side table, then rested my head back against the flat pillow on the bed. Besides the doctor, no one had been allowed inside the room after I took my helmet off. I felt like the silence was too much, but if someone talked about anything that had happened in the last few days, I was going to lose it. I had never felt so close to a mental breakdown before.
Dr. Carrison checked my vitals. “Everything looks fine. I’d like you to stay here for a bit until I decide you’re fit to go home.”
The way he emphasized the last few words caught my attention. I gave a small smile. “If you think like that, I might be here a while.”
He nodded with a touch of truth in his eyes. “You just might.” He gave a kind smile. “If you’re feeling up to it, I have a visitor who is very anxious to see you.”
I didn’t know who it would be. I didn’t feel able to talk to anyone. I couldn’t decide on my emotional state; my heart hammered in my chest. Whenever I thought of the school in danger, I couldn’t quite catch my breath. I felt like the students were still under threat despite the fact that the school had been emptied and the gang arrested. I couldn’t find my center of calm.
Dr. Carrison read the look on my face. “Trust me. This is one visitor who will help.”
He stepped outside, and my he
art stopped entirely when Madelyn entered.
Tears filled my eyes to match those running down Madelyn’s cheeks. She ran to the bed and ducked under my arm, resting against my uninjured side as sobs tore from her. “I know,” I whispered, touching her cheek. I curled around her, holding her tight with every last bit of strength I possessed. I let the emotions flood from me, the fear, anger, frustration, and helpless fury that filled me when Magnum had told me about the situation at the school.
Every bit of loss I felt at Madelyn’s absence rushed away with her embrace. Her hands tangled in my hospital gown, pulling me closer as she cried. “I thought about you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I thought about you when I drove through those doors. I knew you would want me to save them if I could.”
She nodded against my chest. “When I heard, I didn’t know what to do. Dad was at Aunt Masey’s when Cassidy called, and he drove me straight here. He knew I couldn’t stay away.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t,” I said. I wondered when the tears would stop rolling down my cheeks. My chest was tight and my arms shook as I held Madelyn.
She took a shuddering breath. “Dad wants me to move in with Aunt Masey.”
I shook my head before she stopped speaking. “You can’t move. You can’t leave Sparrow. I’m in Sparrow—we’re in Sparrow.” I took a breath, trying to think. “I love you and I know you love me. We’ll make it work. You can live at the Ashbys or something.”
“I know,” she said, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes. “I told him I couldn’t go, but he’s insisting that it’d be better for me to get away from the house for a while.”
I swallowed against the knot in my throat, but it refused to go away. I wanted to cry, to shout, to hit something, but I just held her, both of us trapped by our circumstances.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw gunfire, bullets hitting my chest at the fair and flying past my head at the school. I felt the weight of the gun in my hands. I fired at headlights and cans. I heard the echo of rubber bullets against the wooden gymnasium floor. Screams of fear sounded over and over again.