by Sam Sisavath
She hurried up the steps and reached the top of the stairs first before easing the door open. She peeked out while Aaron and Trevor waited patiently behind her. She didn’t have to guess their location back there because she could smell them, and thought, Showers. Multiple showers, definitely.
“Clear,” she said, and stepped outside.
Their footsteps echoed off the long, empty hallway and the rows of lockers. Banners hung from the ceiling in front of them, advertising an upcoming football game this Friday and a dance the following Saturday night. She breathed a little easier at the lack of students, though she could hear voices coming from the classrooms to the left and right of them.
Xiao could imagine the headlines now: TERRORISTS TAKE HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS HOSTAGE, and thought, Yeah, let’s try to avoid that at all costs.
“Come on,” she said, and started jogging up the hallway.
Aaron followed closely behind her, with Trevor somewhere in the back. It was a straight shot to the exit on the other side—fifty meters, give or take—in the shape of twin doors with large windows that revealed sections of the outside parking lot.
So far, so good.
“This is great,” Trevor was saying from somewhere in the back. “I just went from running my own SWAT unit to running around a school with automatic weapons. My career trajectory sucks.”
“Hey, at least they don’t know where we are yet,” Aaron said.
“Don’t jinx it,” Xiao said.
“Who’s jinxing—” Aaron began to say when the speakers above them squawked loudly, making all three of them stop in their tracks.
“Attention, faculty of Harold Campbell High. May I have your attention,” a booming male voice said through the intercoms. “Effective immediately, please lock your doors and remain inside your classrooms with your students until further notice. This is not a drill. I repeat: This is not a drill.”
Xiao sighed and looked back at the two men behind her. “I think we’ve been compromised.”
“Ya think?” Aaron said.
“We have to get out of here,” Trevor said. He glanced up, then down the hallway. Like her, he had heard the sudden rise in voices coming from the classrooms around them. “There are way too many kids in this place.”
“Go,” Xiao said, and broke out into a full run toward the exit.
Forty meters.
Thirty…
“Attention, faculty of Harold Campbell High. May I have your attention,” the same voice boomed through the same speakers above them again.
Morgan Freeman, is that you?
“Effective immediately,” the voice continued, “please lock your doors and remain inside your classrooms with your students until further notice. This is not a drill. I repeat: This is not a drill.”
“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time,” Aaron grunted behind her.
Xiao grinned and kept running.
Twenty meters…
Ten…
She slid to a stop at the same time both doors snapped open, figures filling them. Men in suits, carrying submachine guns—
Xiao opened up with the MP5, the cyclic whirring of the weapon filling the hallway only trumped by the clink-clink-clink! of brass casings pelting the floor around her feet.
The first of the suited men to step through the doors dropped, as did the one immediately behind him. One of the windows imploded as the remaining men—three in all—stopped, spun, and dove back through the still-opening doors even as their two comrades fell in front of them.
“Back, back!” Xiao shouted, glancing over her shoulder in time to see Trevor grabbing Aaron by the backpack and dragging him down the hallway.
She turned back to face the exit (Not anymore!) even as she retraced her steps. One of the doors was still swinging back and forth, giving her a decent view of the parking lot outside and flickering images of people moving around out there. There were more than just the three she had sent scurrying. A hell of a lot more.
They knew where we’d come up. How the hell did they know?
“Xiao!” Trevor shouted behind her. He was holding open one of the classrooms’ doors with one hand, the other clutching his M4. “Come on!”
Something else caught her eye—a hand prying open the basement door on the other side of the hallway. She loosed the remaining rounds in her MP5 in that direction, stitching the door and forcing the hand to vanish.
“Down!” Trevor shouted as he fired a burst up the hallway toward the front doors.
Xiao had barely begun to duck when bullets zip-zip-zipped! past her head, and she thought, Damn, Trevor, a little more warning next time, buddy!
She didn’t move again until Trevor had stopped firing, then lunged past him and through the open door.
Terrified faces and wide eyes met her as she slid inside the classroom. Twenty or so kids had wisely found cover behind a dozen large counters that filled the space, the countertops of each one crowded with beakers, bottles, and tools. They had ducked into some kind of science lab, which she guessed also explained why the kids were all wearing safety goggles and white lab coats.
“Give me a hand,” Trevor said. He rushed to a desk at the front of the room, and as he did, the adult woman hiding behind it scurried away on her hands and knees.
Xiao understood what he was doing and said, “Aaron.”
When the teenager turned to her, Xiao tossed him the MP5. He just barely caught it, and Xiao was amused at the look on his face: Like he didn’t know whether to toss it back to her or drop it to the floor so it couldn’t bite him. To his credit, Aaron did neither, and although it took him a few seconds, he got the idea and finally turned the weapon away from himself and pointed the muzzle at the scared students hiding in front of him.
Trevor was already lifting one side of the (very heavy, apparently) desk before she got a good handle on hers. They grunted their way back over and upended the furniture—spilling everything that had been on top of it—until the flat counter was braced against the door. Xiao had no illusions their makeshift barricade would hold, but it didn’t have to as long as it provided just enough incentive to keep back an assault.
And they were coming; she had no doubts about that. Sooner or later, student hostages or not, the Rhim was going to come in.
“What now?” Trevor asked as he took a moment to catch his breath.
“We’ll play it by ear,” Xiao said.
“Sounds like a bad plan.”
“You got a better idea?”
“My idea would have been not to run into a school full of kids. Or lead them to the safe house in the first place.”
“Hey, I’m not Porter, okay? I’m the girl you send in to clear a room, not to get people out of it. I’m doing the best I can.”
The frustration and anger must have come through in her voice, because Trevor held up both hands in surrender and said, “I know, I know. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Yeah, me too.”
She walked over to Aaron, and he handed the weapon back to her without a word. The teenager stared wide-eyed when she reloaded it with a fresh magazine from her back pocket.
“Wait, you mean…” he said and let the rest go unsaid.
Xiao grinned. “I didn’t want you to shoot yourself by accident.”
Aaron groaned. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Join the club.”
He might have had a clever retort, but before he could get it out, the same voice from the hallway spoke through the speakers in the room: “Attention, all students and faculty of Harold Campbell High. We have an emergency situation. All students and faculty are advised to remain in their classrooms with their doors locked. I repeat: We have an emergency situation. All students and faculty are advised to remain in their classrooms with their doors locked until further notice.”
Xiao looked around until she found the only other adult woman in the room, sitting on the floor nearby with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up against her chest. “Who is th
at?”
“What?” the woman said.
“The voice on the intercom.”
“George.”
“George what?”
“George Havlin. The principal.”
“He’s got a nice voice.”
“What?”
“Deep voice. Like the voice of God. Kinda sounds like Morgan Freeman. Is he black?”
“I…” She looked confused for a moment, like she had difficulty processing the question. “No. He’s white?”
“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”
“Um, yes?”
“Hunh. He sounds black.”
“That’s racist,” Aaron said.
“I’m Asian. I can’t be racist.”
Xiao scanned the other faces in the room. Most of them were still hidden behind the bulky tables, with a few brave souls sneaking a curious look at her. When she caught them, they quickly pulled back behind cover.
“Everyone, stay where you are,” Xiao said. “This will be over soon, and you’ll all be able to get back to your Pokémon Go and Pokémon stops and whatever it is you crazy kids are into these days.”
“God, you’re racist and old,” Aaron said.
“Hopefully, I’ll live to grow even more racist and older.”
“Hope springs eternal, I guess.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She looked behind her at Trevor, leaning against the wall next to the barricaded door. He had one ear pressed against the painted surface, though she wondered if he could actually hear anything through the concrete blocks that made up the classroom walls.
“Anything?” Xiao asked anyway.
“They’re inside,” Trevor said.
“Already?” Aaron said. “It’s like they knew where the tunnel led to. How would they know that?”
Good question, Xiao thought.
“How many can you hear out there?” she asked Trevor instead.
Trevor put his ear back against the wall but didn’t say anything.
“Any day now, chief,” Xiao said.
“A lot,” Trevor finally said.
“How many is a lot?” Aaron asked.
“A fuck lot.”
“That’s a lot,” Aaron said quietly.
Chapter 4
Zoe
“How many were there?”
“One. Or three, depending on who you ask.”
“That’s the official word?”
“The official word is, we’re still trying to sort it out.”
“The unofficial word?”
“The story keeps changing.” Kevin ground his teeth, which was a sign he was annoyed. “You know eyewitnesses. The only thing less reliable are kids and animals.”
Zoe forced a smile, a Tell me about it, brother gesture that always put the guys at ease. It was her way of letting them know that she understood what they were going through, even if she didn’t.
It’s the thought that counts, Joe would always tell her.
It was harder with the girls, but then Zoe rarely ran into members of the female persuasion when she needed information from a patrolman.
She looked across the street, past the throng of civilians that had gathered outside Barney’s Eats as soon as the shooting stopped and cops flooded the place. Members of the press were already interviewing people and doing live-in reports to their respective stations. Zoe had learned a long time ago that if you wanted the real scoop on a crime, you didn’t bother with the looky-loos or wait for the department spokesman to call a briefing on the sidewalk. The real information was from the guys who were there before everyone else—patrolmen like Kevin, who were used to being ignored by the press.
She turned back to one of those guys now. “I hear it was a woman who did the shooting.”
“That’s the only thing the witnesses could agree on,” Kevin nodded. “A woman, but they’re not sure how many there were. Like I said, either one or three, depending on who you asked.”
They stood half a block from Barney’s Eats, with Kevin lazily directing traffic into a side street with the help of a whistle, and, occasionally, hand gestures. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting assignment Joe had sent her out on, but it beat chasing after politicians trying to get their hands on the same sound bites as a hundred other reporters. And presidential season was already in full swing, even though the primaries were months away.
Politicians and boring speeches. No thanks.
“Shot the waitress and another civilian,” Kevin was saying. “Also a woman.”
“So three bodies in all?” Zoe asked.
“Uh huh.”
“What did they get? Assuming it was a robbery.”
“Money, I guess.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“That’s what the detectives are for.”
“What about the victims? You have their names yet?”
“They’re withholding them. You’ll have to wait for the official press conference like everyone else.”
“But that’s why I’m standing here talking to you, Kevin, so I don’t have to wait around like everyone else.”
Kevin sneaked a look back at her. He was in his thirties, slightly balding at the top, and on the side of average. Married, but that didn’t stop him from reaching over and touching one of her elbows while he waved at incoming traffic with his other hand. “When are we gonna have that coffee you’ve been promising me for three years now?”
She gave him an amused look. It wasn’t a straight-up No, but it wasn’t a Yes, either. There was a very real balance to be struck, and Zoe had mastered it her first year on the job. “When that ring disappears from your finger. You know my number one rule: No married men.”
“But flirting with them’s okay?”
“Who’s flirting?”
“Riiight.”
“We’re just two friends talking.”
“Are we? Friends, I mean?”
“Of course we are. How else would I know your wife’s name is Arlene and you have two kids?”
Kevin frowned. “You bringing them up for a reason?”
“Just to prove a point.”
“Which is?”
“You’re still married.”
Kevin grunted. “Don’t have to keep reminding me.”
Only because it works.
“You gonna be on TV today?” Kevin asked. “Are you gonna be…on the case?”
She sighed. God, she hated that tagline.
“Five o’clock,” she said with a smile.
“Whose balls will you be busting this time?”
“No one’s, if I can help it.”
“But then you wouldn’t be Zoe McIntosh, investigative reporter, who is always on the case.”
“I’d settle for just Zoe, thanks.”
“Anyway, drive time. That’s new, right? When did you get the promotion?”
“Last year. Haven’t you been keeping up with my career?”
“I don’t watch the news as much as I used to. Too much bullshit.”
“What about today?”
He gave her a smarmy grin with one side of his face. “I’ll make an exception today. Only because you’re looking really good.”
“I know.”
Kevin leaned in closer, like he was afraid someone would overhear—which was an odd thing to be afraid of since they were the only two standing at this particular intersection, with all the “excitement” directly outside of Barney’s Eats. “What happens if this ring disappears? Say, temporarily?”
“It doesn’t work that way, handsome.”
“How does it work?”
“You want a shot at the title, it’s all or nothing.”
Kevin chuckled. “Does that work on everyone?”
“Just the guys.”
“I bet.”
And some of the girls, too, with enough makeup.
“Where are the witnesses now?” she asked.
“Feds took them.”
“The feds?”
&nb
sp; Kevin blew his whistle, gesturing wildly at a car insisting on going straight before the driver gave up and turned. “Uh huh. Swooped in about thirty minutes before you showed up and ran off with them.”
“Why would the feds take witnesses from a local robbery?”
The patrolman shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Who knows why those guys do what they do?”
“But that’s not normal. Feds don’t get involved in local cases.”
“What can I tell you? Things have changed. That whole mess with the Wilshire terrorist attacks last week made sure of that. City Hall’s not going to say no if the feds want to get involved. CYA.”
Zoe nodded. CYA was Cover Your Ass. The only thing that made local government look worse than having a terrorist attack within their city limits was word leaking out they had denied government offers of help beforehand.
She glanced up the street again, seeing the diner and the commotion around it with new eyes. “Are you sure they were FBI?”
“I think so,” Kevin said. “They didn’t exactly introduce themselves to me or anything.”
“That’s new.” Zoe flipped through her notepad and scanned her own handwriting. “A robbery. Three dead. One woman—possibly three—still at large. How did that become a federal case?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy.”
“Oh come on, Kevin. You’re supposed to know everything.”
He flashed her a Nice try smirk. “They’ll probably have more for you at the press conference. That’s in about an hour.”
“Yeah, the press conference,” Zoe said, but she thought, Anyone can cover a press conference. The real story is out here. “What did she take?”
“Who?”
“The shooter. It was a robbery, wasn’t it?”
“Apparently.”
“‘Apparently?’”
Kevin shrugged. “You should be flirting with those detectives instead of us lowly footies, if you want the real scoops.”
“But I love you footies.”
“Not enough to grab coffee with us, apparently.”
“Only the unmarried ones.”
“So you keep saying.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Uh huh.”
“Can you tell me what she looked like?”
“Who?”