Blind Instinct: A Tess Barrett Thriller

by Michael W. Sherer

  “So who’s this guy you’re asking?” I kept my tone nonchalant.

  “To tolo? Tim Daley.”

  “Nice guy? Is he cute? Why am I asking? Of course he is or you wouldn’t want to ask him.”

  “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’d ask you to point him out, but you probably don’t know what he looks like.”

  “Ha, ha yourself,” she said. “Aren’t you clever.”

  If I were smart I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this situation. And if I were clever, I’d figure out how to get one of Tess’s friends to give me the skinny on Tim Daley. I snaked through the crowds of kids milling in and around the tables jockeying for seats. Her hand resting lightly on my shoulder, Tess stayed close and kept pace as I maneuvered.

  “You know I have to check him out before I go to bat for you.”

  “Kidding, right? No way. You’re not interviewing my date.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not going unless I convince Travis.”

  I spotted Matt sitting at a table off to the side, empty chairs next to him suggesting he’d come down with flu, or social leprosy. I angled toward him anyway. As far as I remembered we still liked him, and since my high school years were behind me I was immune to clique syndrome.

  “Found a couple of places for us,” I said over my shoulder. “Come on.”

  Matt didn’t look up when we took seats next to him, eyes and fingers glued to the touch screen of his smart phone. He grunted when I said hello, but his concentration didn’t waver.

  “Hey, Matt, what are you doing?” Tess said.

  He turned away with another grunt, shoved his feet out in front of him and crossed his ankles. He slouched in the chair, lunch on the table in front of him untouched.

  I leaned down next to her ear. “He’s busy playing Never Bitten. Can’t talk. What do you want for lunch?”

  “The usual.”

  “Turkey sandwich, whole wheat, Jack cheese, avocado, lettuce, no tomato, hold the mayo?”

  “You remembered.” Like sun breaking through clouds, her expression lightened for an instant then fell back into shadow. “Oh, right.”

  Her disappointment took a swing at me, but only landed a glancing blow. Of course I remembered. An eidetic memory meant I could recite most of our conversations since the day we met word for word.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told her.

  Only a couple of kids stood in line at the sandwich station, so I didn’t wait long. The girls ahead of me chatted amiably about a friend who’d hosted a party the weekend before while her parents had been out of town. Someone had posted it on Twitter and the resulting crowd had trashed the house, stolen several bottles of liquor, and been rousted by the police because of the noise. According to the pair in front of me, the girl hadn’t even gotten in trouble with her parents. I wondered if there were any adults in that house even when the parents were home.

  I ordered and paid for two sandwiches, and when I turned, a commotion broke out at the table where I’d left Tess. Too far away to hear the exact words, the gist of the confrontation seemed pretty clear. A kid I recognized from the baseball team thought Matt’s feet were in the way and kicked them under the table. I left the line and hustled back.

  Matt jumped up and shoved the kid. “Back off, asshole!”

  Even over the normal din, Matt issued the command loudly enough to turn heads.

  Nearly a foot taller than Matt, the kid stepped forward and shoved back, hard. Matt stumbled into his chair. More heads turned and several people ran toward the table as a chant broke out, “Fight! Fight!” As the kid towered over him, Matt leaned to one side and dug into a backpack on the floor. I shouldered my way between a couple of guys who’d stood up to see better and opened my mouth to tell them to cool it when Matt jumped up on the table.

  “I said back off!” Matt screamed.

  The kid looked up at him and laughed. “Yeah, or what, dork-face?”

  “This, you dick!” Matt yelled. He waved a pistol in the air.

  “Gun!” someone shouted.

  “Oh, my god!” a girl cried. “He’s going to kill us all!”

  “Matt, what are you doing?” Tess cried. “What’s going on?”

  I elbowed more kids aside in my haste to get back to her, adrenaline now sending my heartbeat into double time.

  “Matt!” I yelled. “Don’t do it!”

  Matt held the pistol over his head and pulled the trigger. The shot sounded like a stick of dynamite going off in the big, high-ceilinged room. For an instant, the commons went silent, then a girl screamed, and another, and the room erupted in pandemonium. Kids nearest the courtyard doors burst through outside, and a crowd pressed toward the hallway that ran perpendicular to the far end.

  “I warned you!” Matt screamed. “Would you listen? No, because you’re all stupid, dumb, dick-heads! I’m not gonna take it anymore, you hear?”

  His rant registered in some corner of my consciousness, but I’d already sprinted the rest of the way to the table while Matt turned a slow pirouette. I reached Tess when Matt’s back was turned. The blood had drained from her face, turning her kabuki white. Shock froze her in place. I crouched next to her, yanked her off the chair onto the floor and shoved her under the table.

  “Stay there!” I whispered hoarsely.

  Slowly poking my head out from under the table, I raised my eyes over the edge. Matt continued screaming, but the shouting and bedlam in the crowd nearly drowned out the words. The kid who’d confronted him elbowed his way toward an exit in a panic.

  “Come back here, you bastard!” Matt shrieked. “I’m not done with you!”

  Without thinking, I stood up, grabbed the round table by the edge and lifted it straight up, tipping the whole thing over. Matt went up in the air as his feet went out from under him. The gun fired again as he waved his arms wildly to get his balance. I stood the table vertically on its edge, and gave it an extra shove into Matt’s body as he fell. Rolling the table out of the way, I leaped over Tess and landed on top of Matt. His breath left him with a whoosh. Sitting on his chest, my eyes and hands went for the gun still in his fingers.

  Pinning his wrist to the floor with one hand, I twisted the gun out of his fingers with the other. Tears of pain sprang into his eyes and as he looked at me, sudden comprehension changed his expression from fury to horror.

  “Oliver? Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “What have I done? It’s the app, man. I didn’t mean to do it. It’s the app.”

  Chapter 12

  Tess lay on the cold concrete floor, shaking like Jell-O in an earthquake. The uproar surrounding her battered her in waves. Screams still echoed from the far edges of the room, and she could only imagine the stampede caused by the students’ panic. Deeper voices shouted now, telling the students not to be alarmed, and to walk, not run. How could they not be unnerved? Matt had just fired a gun in the commons. Matt had a gun! Amid all the shuffling feet and loud voices, Tess heard Matt’s voice close by, alternately babbling softly and keening like a small child with a stomachache.

  Something hard pressed into her hip, and her fingertips went exploring, closing around a smooth rectangular object that fit into her palm. A cell phone, but not hers. Matt’s. Keeping her hand by her side she slipped the phone into the front pocket of her jeans without thinking. Deep down a little voice told her that taking the phone was wrong. The commotion drowned it out.

  “Oliver?” she said tentatively. She reached out her hand. Strong fingers closed over hers.

  “I’m here. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “What’s wrong with Matt? Is he hurt?”

  “He’s okay. He’s just—”

  “Drop the weapon!” a voice boomed, so close that Tess jumped. “Drop it now!”

  “Okay, okay,” Oliver said. “I was just keeping it safe.”

  “Put it on the ground!” the voice said. “Do it now!”

  “It’s
down, okay?” Oliver said.

  “He didn’t do anything!” Tess said, her voice shrill in her ears.

  “Now slide it over, slowly. All the rest of you, don’t move. And everyone keep quiet.”

  Tess followed the scraping sound as the gun traveled across the floor from left to right. She finally recognized the voice; it belonged to John Kelly, the school’s huge security guard.

  “That’s good” Kelly said. “Get comfy, ’cause we’re gonna sit here and wait for the cops.”

  “Oliver didn’t do anything,” Tess said again, controlling her emotions this time.

  Oliver muttered, “Except maybe save your life.”

  Rubbing her elbow where it had smacked the floor when Oliver pulled her down, Tess ignored the comment.

  “If that’s you John Kelly, you have to listen to me,” Tess said. “Matt’s the one who pulled a gun. I think he needs help. He just went crazy.”

  “And you saw all this, did you?” the security guard said.

  “I heard it, which is almost as good,” she said. “Oliver was getting me a sandwich when it happened. He—”

  “Uh-unh. Don’t say another word. You can tell it to the cops.”

  Approaching footsteps clacked on the hard floor. Tess realized that the room had gone quiet except for Matt’s whispered refrain, “Sorry, so sorry; the app made me do it.”

  “What’s going on, John?” a new voice said. Tess knew this was Greg Olton, the assistant principal. “Students are saying someone shot a gun in here. The building is in lock-down.”

  “Someone fired a gun all right,” John said. “Not sure who yet.”

  “Matt did!” Tess said. “Listen to him. He’s saying how sorry he is. He didn’t mean it. He went nuts when Joe Pistarro pushed him.”

  “Like I said, we’ll wait for the cops.”

  “Are you all right, Miss Barrett?” Mr. Olton said. He took her arm and helped her up.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  Mr. Olton led her to a chair. She sat, rubbing her hands in her lap, wishing she could see what was going on. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them back. A thought like that hadn’t entered her head in a while. Not only had she not felt sorry for herself in the last week or so, she’d actually been moving through her routines as if blindness was natural to her. Well, there was nothing natural about having two useless orbs in the front of your face that did nothing but leak saltwater. She swiped at her face with the back of her hand hoping no one saw her.

  Two patrol officers arrived a minute or two later, followed by two detectives a few minutes after that. The officers organized students still in place into groups of witnesses—those who’d seen the altercation from start to finish, and those who’d seen only bits and pieces. They cleared a couple of tables, for interviews, and then had Mr. Olton and John Kelly send the rest of the kids back to their classrooms. Announcements had gone out over the school intercom, and by now several teachers had arrived to help calm and escort students out of the commons.

  One of the detectives introduced himself to Tess, and asked if he could ask her some questions about what had happened. He spoke in a gentle tone and seemed to genuinely care about her feelings. The problem was she didn’t know how she felt. She was angry with Oliver for dragging her off the chair onto the floor, but part of her was touched that he’d thought her life was in danger. And she was even angrier with herself for freezing up when Matt had fired the gun. Just because she’d been in the middle of a firefight up in the mountains two weeks earlier with bullets flying everywhere was no reason for her to panic every time she heard a loud noise.

  Tess also worried about Matt, about what would happen to him. He’d be expelled, for sure, and his shot at college, let alone the scholarships he’d seemed a shoo-in for, had probably vanished in the puff of smoke that issued from the barrel of his pistol. His behavior had been so un-Matt-like that she had a hard time reconciling what he’d done with the person she’d known all through middle school and high school. She conveyed this to the detective. He nodded and told her not to feel badly. He said it was pretty common for people in these situations to say they never expected someone they knew to snap the way Matt had.

  But Tess felt there was more to it than that. Matt hadn’t just been pushed to a breaking point. He’d been teased before, something that was bound to happen to a nerdy guy like him. Not that she thought he was a geek. He was just smart, and had other interests besides things like sports or cars. Guys like Toby and his friends didn’t know what to do with that, so they made fun of it, attacked it. Matt was small, not exactly athletic, but he was tough. He shrugged off the taunts. He made light of the teasing, even turning it on his tormentors, belittling their shortcomings with an acid wit that made her laugh. And he’d been key to helping her and Oliver decipher the clues that had led them to discover a software program her father had hidden in fragments on memory devices in several places. No matter what Matt had done, she owed him her friendship and loyalty. But she didn’t know what she could do to help him out of this jam. Bringing a gun to school was serious enough. Firing it…

  When the detective finished asking questions, he left her alone at the table. She heard low voices around her, and imagined that students were being interviewed at other tables scattered around the commons. She had no idea where Oliver was, or even whether the police had taken him away. She fidgeted, and caught herself chewing on a fingernail several times. Each time she put her hand in her lap it would somehow make its way to the top of the table and eventually to the corner of her mouth.

  Some time later, another policeman came to her table and introduced himself. He spoke more gruffly than the first, and his questions were more direct, more probing. She didn’t know why, but he made her feel guilty.

  “I’ve answered all these questions,” she said finally. “I went over this with the other detective.”

  “I know,” he said, sounding human for the first time, “and I’m sorry about that. But we like people to go over events again while they’re still fresh in their minds. Sometimes they remember things the second time through that they didn’t think of at first.”

  Tess mulled the thought silently for a moment. She didn’t think she could forget what had happened, but when she ran through it again in her mind, other details came into focus—the smell of gym locker and sweaty socks when Joe Pistarro had first accosted Matt, and gunpowder after the sharp report; the scent of Oliver’s shampoo when he’d pulled her to the floor; the sounds of her heart banging against her ribs and blood singing in her ears. None of which was pertinent to the detective’s questions.

  Matt had been taken away shortly after the police had arrived, still muttering about the game app. But the police held the rest of them for another hour before conceding they’d questioned everyone who’d actually seen what had happened. Oliver finally came and found her, and silently walked her out to the car. Her fingers on his shoulder felt the tension in his body.

  “I’m worried about Matt,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, you could’ve backed me up a little more in there,” Oliver replied.

  “I did! I told them you didn’t do it. You heard me. How can you say that?”

  “The big guy—what’s his name? John? He saw me with the gun in my hand, so the cops treated me like I was the suspect. They grilled me for almost two hours—like about why I didn’t have a student ID, and why I was even here at school at all if I wasn’t a student.”

  “Hey, sorry, but I did say Matt fired the gun.”

  “You’re right. I apologize. It’s just… I don’t like cops asking me questions. It makes me feel like I should confess everything I ever did, like the time I snuck a cookie off a plate when my grandmother wasn’t looking.”

  “Chunk,” she said, a memory flashing through her mind. “You know, in Goonies?”

  “You saw that movie? It’s so old.”

  She nodded. “On TV, when I was a kid. I loved it. I told you, my dad and I were into all
that buried treasure, secret code stuff.”

  Oliver opened the car door for her. She ducked her head, got in and buckled up. A few moments later the driver-side door opened and Oliver climbed in next to her.

  “What are we going to do about Matt?” she said.

  “There’s nothing we can do. He’s pretty much screwed.”

  “Didn’t you hear him, Oliver? He said it had something to do with that game he’s been playing.”

  “The app made me do it? Come on, Tess, you really think that’s the defense he should go with? Might as well plead temporary insanity and be done with it.”

  “People always say video games make kids more violent.”

  “You believe that? Television and video games might desensitize us to violence, but there’s no proven link.”

  “Still, we need to find out more about that game. We don’t even know who makes it.”

  “That’s easy enough to find out. I’ll call Derek. He should know. Hang on a sec.”

  Tess and Oliver had met Derek Hamblin a couple of weeks earlier when Travis had pulled Derek into the intrigue that had nearly gotten Tess and Oliver killed. A brilliant “coder” like Tess’s father had been, Derek had helped Travis figure out the meaning of the fragments of software that Tess kept finding. But when Derek had learned Tess might be in danger, he’d done what he could to help her.

  “Derek, it’s Oliver… Yeah, good, we’re good… Say, listen, Tess and I were wondering if you knew who put out that new game app everyone’s addicted to… MondoHard? You’re kidding… You’re not?”

  “Uncle Travis wouldn’t do that,” Tess said. “He wouldn’t let the company put out a game that could hurt people!”

  “Shush! I can’t hear. What’s that, Derek? …We’re on our way.”

  Chapter 13

  Cold had seeped through tissue, muscle and sinew, down into his very bones. Travis groaned involuntarily from the pain as he stood and straightened stiffened joints. He’d managed a few hours of sleep between bouts of exercise to keep warm. The last time he’d closed his eyes, however, he’d intended to get only twenty or thirty minutes of shut-eye. Instead, sleep had pulled him down deep for nearly two hours, and his body now paid the price. He stretched and flashed the lighted dial on his watch. Not quite six in the morning. As if suddenly aware of the time, his stomach rumbled with hunger.