“Who are they?” Brandon repeats.
Mr. Peterson doesn’t take his eyes off Brandon, but his right hand reaches over to a drawer and opens it.
“Who are they?” Brandon sits forward in his chair and pounds the desk.
“That’s enough, Brandon. Sit back and shut up.” He reaches into the drawer.
“Who are they? Who are they? Who are they?” Brandon shouts.
“Do you want to know who they are?” Mr. Peterson asks. His hand is still in the drawer.
“YES! Who are they?” Triumph breaks out all over Brandon’s acned face with joy that he has broken a teacher.
Mr. Peterson doesn’t say anything. He pulls his hand out of the drawer to reveal that he is holding a pistol. He cocks it and points it right at Brandon.
“Ask me again! Tell me that you really don’t know who they were!” he demands.
Almost everyone screams and races to the door. There are a handful of people, like me, that are too frightened to move.
Mr. Peterson doesn’t move but yells above the crowd. “I will kill the first person who opens the door!”
They believe him. They race to the back corner, dragging desks, backpacks, and anything they can find to make a barricade. I hear girls crying, “I don’t want to die.”
I should join them. But I don’t move. I’m transfixed, watching a shadow behind Mr. Peterson morph like Matt’s dragon. It takes form, not as wide as Mr. Peterson and a bit taller than he is. But the shadow continues to change.
I don’t know if it’s because of the gun or the strange shadow, but I find the will to run. I jump to my feet, but my legs won’t work. I sink to the ground behind my desk, glad for some protection, even though it’s not much.
Mr. Peterson doesn’t seem to care what the rest of us do. He keeps the gun on Brandon. When the initial panic dies down and all I hear is the sobbing behind me, he speaks again.
“Ask me again.”
Brandon is whimpering. “Please, don’t do this. I’m sorry!”
“Ask me!” Mr. Peterson yells.
Brandon sobs as tears begin to flow. “Who are they?”
There’s a bang like a small explosion, and my ears are filled with ringing. I wince and cringe, expecting to feel the streak of the bullet through me, but I don’t feel anything. Brandon’s screams fill the room.
I open my eyes and see Brandon on the white tile floor, rolling in his agony. He’s yelling, but his voice is in the distance.
Brandon stops thrashing and his screams turn to loud moans. He has his hands on his stomach like he’s trying to hold in his blood.
But it sneaks past his fingers and pools up all around him. It begins to flow in my direction. A red river on a white bed.
Brandon is screaming for someone to help him. Kyle flies over the barricade and dashes to him. He jumps over the chairs that have been pushed over and stumbles on some books. He almost reaches Brandon when there is another blast
Kyle falls next to Brandon and doesn’t move ever again. My ears are ringing from the gun and Brandon’s screaming. Brandon tries to reach Kyle, but he can’t move. Instead, he lays there and watches the life leave his friend.
Their blood mingles on the floor–blood brothers in death.
Matt erupts from behind the barricade. I want to yell at him to stay back, but my mouth is too dry for words.
Matt trips and falls to his knees over the first desk. Mr. Peterson waits until he is on his feet again and then fires the third time.
Matt falls to the ground without making a sound. Blood comes out of his mouth before he hits the floor. Then he’s gone.
Why did you do that for Brandon?
I couldn’t count the number of times Matt was tortured by Brandon.
Why did you die for a bully?
Two more guys make an attempt, but the blast sounds again and again. I realize with terror that Mr. Peterson has set Brandon as bait, and we have two choices.
We can watch Brandon die, or we can die trying to save him. How long until someone hears the shots? How long before the police come? Will any of us be left?
The red flowing across the white floor becomes a large puddle. I hear the screams of my classmates behind me. And over that, I hear laughter, far too low and raspy to be Mr. Peterson.
I look up from the blood on the floor. The shadow on the wall has morphed into a demon with long wings. He laughs as he watches the morbid scene playing out in front of him.
The demon turns to me. Although he’s just a shadow, I know he can see me, and he knows I can see him. The demon stops laughing and leans over Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson turns to me and smiles.
My heart feels like it’s going to burst. What is he planning now? I should have run with the others. But it’s too late for that.
Mr. Peterson comes around his desk for the first time. He changes his target from Brandon to the group of students huddled in the back.
“Shut up!” he orders. “I’m sick of hearing your whining and complaining. And I don’t want to hear any sniveling or screaming either, so shut up!”
Everyone obeys to the best they can. I hear a couple of muffled sobs.
Mr. Peterson keeps his gun on them as he steps through the blood on the white floor and comes my direction.
I stare at the red footprints left on the floor. Another memory stirs of footprints in red. Then Mr. Peterson stops beside me.
My hands won’t stop shaking. I can’t help but think of Aunt Kate when they tell her. She’ll be alone. No one left but her. She’s going to have a hard time when she hears I’m dead.
Mr. Peterson kneels down beside me. He points the gun at Brandon, who is still moaning with pain.
“I know he beat you up,” he says. His voice is calm. “Remember that time he gave you a black eye? Or that time he pushed you on the stairs, and you fell into the railing and cut up your arm bad. Did you need stitches for that one?”
I had forgotten that one. I did need stitches–eight to be exact. Aunt Kate had freaked out because of my blood and rushed me to the hospital.
“Wasn’t it last year he tore up that report you’d been working on for weeks and flushed it down the toilet?”
I got weeks of work destroyed and an F all for his few minutes of fun. I looked back at Brandon, but instead of seeing him in agony, all I see is him grabbing my report and shredding it before flushing it down the toilet.
I remember pleading with him to give it back. I’d do anything. He made me kiss his shoe. I never told anyone that, but I did. Then he threw my report in toilet and flushed it. He kicked me in my side as I crawled to save what I could.
How do you know all of this?
“Makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Mr. Peterson whispers in my ear. “Don’t you wish you could have done something to stop it?”
I remember Aunt Kate’s disappointment when I got that F. I didn’t tell her why. I let her think I was disturbed by all the changes in my life, and that’s why I got a bad grade. I still feel the sting of her dissatisfaction.
“Don’t you wish you could do something to make him feel your pain?” Mr. Peterson whispers again.
I do! And not just my pain, but others who suffered far worse from him. I think of the guys he beat to a pulp, of the girls he continually made cry, of the girls he dated and the things he did to them. Someone has to stop him and make him realize the pain he causes in everyone’s life.
Mr. Peterson grabs one of my shaking hands. He pulls it to the gun.
“It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “My hands were shaking at first. Then it goes away.”
He puts my hand on the handle. His other hand is on the other side.
“Put your finger on the trigger,” he orders. His voice is more urgent and demanding now.
I can’t get my finger to move.
“Put it on the trigger,” Mr. Peterson yells.
I obey, even though I don’t want to. I think about that night long ago when the door opened and I heard a blast like today.
The darkness rises in me.
“If we don’t stop him, he’ll hurt more and more people,” Mr. Peterson says. “It’s our duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves by any means we have. Can you remember what he did to you?”
Oh, I remember the shame of getting to my knees while his buddies snickered at me! I remember bending over until I could smell the cleaning products on the floor. Trying desperately not to touch the floor too much. Then there was his shoe. I didn’t want to do it, but I needed that report. So I did. I’ll never forget how I felt at that moment.
“Make him pay,” Mr. Peterson continues. “You shouldn’t have been treated that way. You didn’t deserve it. Now you have power. Take it and make him feel what you felt.”
I will! He needs to know what it feels to be so crushed. I look him in the eyes past the barrel of the pistol. He’s staring at me, sniveling with his moans. But he doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t think I will! I remember the words I said to get my report back because I believed him. He could at least ask me not to do it. Anger flows through me and takes away all fear. My hands aren’t shaking anymore.
“He’s as good as dead,” Mr. Peterson says. “Just squeeze the trigger. Then kill them. Kill them all.”
I nod and swallow. Mr. Peterson puts his hand on the gun and straightens it so that it’s pointed at Brandon’s forehead.
“Pull the trigger on the count of three.” He laughs like we’re playing a game. “One.”
What am I doing?
I look around. The other students are peering over the barricade at me, their faces white.
“He’s a jerk, remember?” Mr. Peterson’s words jerk me back to what we’re doing. “Two.”
I can smell his shoe. I can hear his laugh and the sound of the toilet flushing. I will do it. No one will bully me again.
“Three.”
I take a deep breath.
The door to the classroom bursts open. I hear a man shouting.
“Drop it! Get on the floor! DROP THE GUN!”
Mr. Peterson yells in rage and snatches the gun from me. He runs toward the police and fires madly in their direction.
I collapse to the floor, horrified by what I almost did. The shadow of the demon flees to the ceiling of the room.
The demon turns his head to look at me. He points at me and draws a finger across his neck. He disappears before anyone sees him. I know what he was saying.
He wants me dead.
Two resounding blasts yank me back to the classroom. Mr. Peterson stops running, jerks violently, and then he’s lying on the floor next to Brandon...
Chapter Forty-Five
Too Slow
“Nic?”
I jerk.
Where am I?
“Nic!”
I blink. Someone slaps my cheek. I open my eyes to a room filled with blood. I clamp them shut again.
“Nic! What’s wrong with you?” Megan shakes my arm again. “We’ve got to get out of here, and you turn into a breathing statue. Then you start pointing your finger at me like it’s...it’s a gun!”
My finger is pointing at Megan’s forehead. I lower my hand and take a deep breath. The memory slowly fades. The darkness hasn’t taken over like that for a long time.
I still wonder what would’ve happened if I had squeezed the trigger. The ambulances arrived right after the police. Despite his wounds, Brandon actually survived, although I heard he was in the hospital for a long time and never was the same physically or emotionally. I never saw him again. I don’t think I could bear to see him.
The investigators cleared me of any sort of blame quickly, although it looked pretty bad for me. All of my classmates told the truth about what happened and how Mr. Peterson was trying to force me into killing Brandon. No one mentioned the demon.
I assume I’m the only one who saw it. I wanted to tell them that it was the demon urging Mr. Peterson to kill, but I didn’t...
The gun is in my hand. Red blood flows across the white floor to me, and the gun smoke fills my nostrils...
“Don’t do it again!” Megan shakes me harder. “Don’t go away again. We’ve got to get out of here.” She points to the next door on the side of the room.
I snap back to the present and nod.
We get halfway there when the door to the office slams shut and footsteps thud down the steps. There’s no place to hide.
I debate running to the next door and grab Megan’s arm to pull her behind me. She’s frozen, staring at the stairway. The footsteps come closer. I tug on her arm, but she doesn’t move.
Rob bursts into the room. He lurches to a stop when he sees us. “What are you doing?” he yells. “I told you to stay, and now you’ve seen them!”
“Who are they?” Megan repeats.
I sway. The memory springs to mind unbidden. Brandon’s mocking question circles through my head. It echoes through my head until I shake it hard and focus on Rob’s answer.
“No one,” he snaps.
“Really?” Megan raises her eyebrows. “That’s your answer? Just tell the truth for once!”
He sighs. “Homeless people, mostly. And a few hunters who wandered into places they shouldn’t have.”
“We’ve got to get out of here.” I repeat.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Megan snaps at me. “Rob, can we get out that way?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.” He leads us past the freezers of blood to the door on the side of the room. As he opens it, we hear a yell.
“Henry!” Catherine calls. “They left!”
“She must have followed me back to the office,” Rob says. “I was hoping her curiosity about what Liam and Henry were doing would hold her long enough to get you away. We’ve got to run.”
“She wouldn’t tell on me,” I say.
Rob snorts in response. He throws open the door and rushes through it. I follow behind Megan and don’t bother to take the time to shut it.
Rob disappears ahead of us. The dark hallway twists and turns. Megan panics and tries to go back the way we came. I grab her and swing her around.
“Just keep going.”
“He could be leading us into trap!” she protests as she struggles to get free.
“We are in the trap!” I remind her. “Besides, you don’t think he could have us any time he wants?”
She pauses. “I guess I didn’t think of that! He seems so...so...nice!”
She’s right.
What makes him different?
Rob pops round the corner. “What are you doing?” he asks. “We’ve got to go.”
We hear a door slam and feet stomping. There’s a deep roar of anger.
“They know you’re gone,” he says. He throws open a door, and the long small dirt track stretches up the hill.
“They. Who’s that?” Megan whispers and peers out the door.
Rob glances at me, and I shake my head.
Don’t tell her about the demons.
He must understand because he nods. We study the route for a second. We’ve got to get up over the hill, past the gate, through the woods, and across the meadow to get to the truck.
There’s no way we’ll make it. We might as well give up.
I scan the tops of the trees for demons, but I don’t see any.
Rob grabs Megan’s hand and pulls her. “Run!” he orders over his shoulder. “Run as fast as you can!”
“Wait!” I call before he can start up the road. “What about you? They’ll see you helping us. Won’t they kill you for letting us go?”
“No.” Rob shakes his head. “They need me too badly. They will never let me go.”
No time to ask why. Doors slam one after another. Rob bursts out of the house and onto the small road. He’s running, pulling Megan along behind him. He’s going slower than what he’s capable of, but it’s faster than what Megan could go. She’s doing her best to get her feet down before she’s jerked off them again.
I follow at a run and he
ar a roar from the windows. They’ve seen us. I kick myself into high gear, but I can’t catch up with Rob and Megan. My breath comes in gasps.
I make it to the top of the hill and stop to rest with my hands on my knees while I try to catch my breath. Megan and Rob race past the gate and in the woods. He leaves her and comes back to me.
“Not…going…to…make…it,” I gasp.
He nods. “You’re slow.”
“Shut… it…” I try to snap. “Doing…all I…can… Not fair…”
Rob grins. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. He smacks me on the shoulder. “Keep it up. I’m going to get Megan to the truck and come back for you.”
I shake my head. That still won’t give us enough time. Then I get an idea. Maybe Megan will get out of here if they slow down to deal with me.
“Tell her to go,” I say between gulps of air. “Tell her we’ll catch up.”
He nods, squeezes my shoulder, and disappears. I trot down the hill to the gate. He throws Megan, who is protesting violently, on his back and takes off through the woods.
You’ll make it.
A wave of relief hits me as I watch them disappear in the trees. I leap over the gate and break into a run, strangely renewed.
I saved her.
If only I could have done this at school last year. The darkness teases me for a second as memories stir. If only I could have done this years before that day in school. If only I could have saved Mom’s life.
But Megan will be fine. They will stop for me, and by the time they are finished, they will forget about her. She’ll be home before they can do anything bad to her. I’m tripping over branches and fallen logs when I remember what she told me.
She can’t drive stick shift.
Megan isn’t saved. I’ve done nothing but extend her life by a few minutes. The darkness swirls in me, keeping up strength like a tornado about to shred buildings into twigs.
I look back to the hill past the gate. Standing at the crest is Blaise with his long black wings spread ready for flight. Liam and Henry stand beside him, watching me like vultures that know their prey is trapped.
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