Reunion (A Psychological Suspense with Murder, Mystery and the Paranormal)

by Jeff Bennington

  The principal concluded, “So without further ado, let’s give a big Lakewood welcome to Miss Lana Jones!”

  The faculty and students cheered and clapped in anticipation of hearing what she had to say. Lana limped briskly down the center isle with the assistance of her ivory-handled cane. She smiled and waved, greeting the students and members of the faculty as she hobbled toward the stage. Lana gave the principal a big high five and he gave her the microphone.

  “Thank you! Thank you so much, Principal Weaver. And thank you, Lakewood Middle School!” The crowd began to settle down. “You have all been so kind and gracious. I just can’t tell you how welcome you have made me feel today. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for your kind hospitality.” She paused to smile, then continued.

  “As Principal Weaver said, my name is Lana Jones and I’m a survivor of the Crescent Falls school shooting that happened twenty years ago. That may seem like a long time to many of you, because most of you weren’t even born when it happened. But to me, it seems like yesterday. The Crescent Falls shooting changed my life, the life of all my friends and most of our town. It’s a day that should never be forgotten.”

  She had their attention. No one made a noise.

  “I’m here today to help you celebrate this week, as your school focuses on character, because who you are and how you interact with others can change the world. Trust me, I’ve seen the best in people and I’ve seen the worst. And that’s where my story begins.”

  Lana walked to the edge of the stage and sat down to create a more intimate setting.

  “Twenty years ago, I was a senior at Crescent Falls High School in Crescent Falls, Idaho. It’s a very small town and we always felt safe there. But near the end of my senior year, a boy named David Ray walked into the cafeteria during our year-end award ceremony. He shot and killed eight students and critically wounded many more, including some of my very best friends.

  “He was very disturbed and what he did was very, very wrong! However, I want to talk to you about the side of David Ray no one likes to discuss, because there are some who believe that what he did could have been prevented. I am one of them.

  “You see, David Ray had a lot of problems. He was like all of us in the sense that we have problems too. Don’t we? But David had more than most. For starters, his parents were very mean to him. And he was on medication because his brain was having trouble, and for some reason, the kids at school teased him, a lot. But the real problem David had was that he wasn’t equipped to handle all of those difficulties. His troubles seemed to pile up, and he grew more and more angry at the world. Again, I’m not saying that makes what he did okay. I’m just telling you what was going on in his head as best we know.

  “You see, David shot me in the arm and in the leg.” Lana pointed to her wounds. “In addition, I was pregnant at the time and nearly lost my baby. Fortunately, we both survived and my daughter Zoe is here with me today.” Lana pointed at the back of the auditorium, smiling with pride. “There she is. Zoe, let them know who you are.” The children turned their heads.

  Zoe waved.

  “Thank you, Zoe.” Lana turned her attention back to the crowd. “Anyway, what we discovered that day was a very complicated issue that affects all of us. We had lots of questions, but there were very few answers. Some people were outraged that David Ray had guns and wanted to blame what he did on gunmakers. Others wanted to blame his parents. Some people were mad at the pharmaceutical companies who made his medication, and some were upset at the people who made the music he listened to. In truth, we may never know exactly why he did what he did. All we can do is try our best to keep that from happening again.

  “So, the question is, what can we do to keep something like that from happening? Or better yet, what can you do? I believe the answer has everything to do with character, because you can’t change what someone is going through at home; but you can ask. You can’t change the medication someone has to take; but you can care and be his or her friend. You can be kind. You can be gracious. You can include the ones who always seem to be alone. You can pick the last person anyone picks first for a change. You can listen and you can try to be compassionate to those who are different than you.

  “You see, everyone has a story. You have a story. Your neighbor has a story. And David Ray had a story too. The problem is that we keep to ourselves. We avoid the stories of people who seem strange, or different, or even scary. But in reality, they’re human just like you and I. The David Rays of this world are out there right now, just waiting for someone to listen. They’re waiting for someone to care. They’re waiting for someone to hear their story.

  “So, let me ask you a question. Will you have the character to listen, or care, or befriend the lost? Will you choose the neglected as well as the superstar? Will you have compassion and respect for every person, regardless of who they are or where they come from, even if they don’t look or dress like you? If you can answer yes to those questions, then you will make a difference. You will demonstrate good character, and quite possibly change the world.

  “In David Ray’s case, no one listened. No one knew his story. No one cared. We didn’t know he was lonely. We didn’t know he was abused. We were oblivious to the fact that he was depressed. In fact, many of my friends, myself included, teased and harassed him on a regular basis. Much to our chagrin, we likely contributed to his hate and the consequences of that hate. We blew our chance. But it’s not too late for you. It’s not too late for each of you to be a hero to the David Rays of this world.

  “I hope you hear what I’m saying. I hope and pray you will demonstrate character in your daily life, and seek to make a difference in the lives of others…”

  Lana proceeded to give the students an opportunity to ask questions. They had plenty. As in most of her appearances, they asked about her wounds. She showed them her scars. They asked how the massacre affected her. She told them about PTSD. They wanted to know about her daughter and her book. She gave them some of the juicy details. When they were satisfied, she walked out of the auditorium the same way she had come in: she waved, limped and smiled. After a short reception and book signing, Zoe and Lana walked to their Land Rover and drove away.

  In many ways this event replicated many others for Lana. Unlike the other engagements or book signings, however, Zoe had a message that Lana never expected to hear.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” said Zoe. “You got a call while you were speaking. I wrote the message on a piece of paper.”

  Zoe handed her mother the note. Lana unfolded the paper and read the memo.

  Call Maria Vasquez 555-555-7111

  After reading the note, Lana asked Zoe to pull over for a moment. Zoe complied, looking a little puzzled.

  Lana studied the note and looked out the window, contemplating why Maria would call her. Suddenly, her optimism and positive thinking gave way to a dark feeling that flushed through her body. In a flash, the demons from her past crept up and took hold of her thoughts. It had been a long time since she had communicated with any of her classmates. Zoe watched as Lana stared out the window.

  “You okay?” asked Zoe.

  Lana nodded. She nervously bit down on her lower lip, flipped open her cell phone and dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Maria?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Lana Jones. How are you?”

  “I’m good! Thanks for returning my call. It’s been very difficult contacting our classmates. It seems with all of our struggles, we’ve been very successful at disbanding.”

  Lana chuckled and said, “Oh, I can only imagine. I think we’ve all had to deal with this in our own way.”

  There was a short pause.

  “So, anyway, what’s on your mind?” asked Lana.

  “A reunion.”

  Both were silent. Lana lifted her fingers to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernails.

  “Oh. Wow!” Lana chuckled through her
anxiety. “How time flies. What is it, our twentieth?”

  “Yes,” replied Maria. “I was thinking the other day, that since we missed all the other dates, we might at least consider our twentieth reunion. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other, and for some reason, I really feel driven to do this. What do you think?”

  “Well, I’m a little taken off guard, I suppose. Who else have you talked to?”

  “I’ve only talked to three so far, you included. I spoke with Kate last night and Bryan this morning. They’re both local, so they were pretty easy to get a hold of. But I think I’m going to need some help finding the rest. That’s why I’m calling. I could use your help, Lana. Are you interested?”

  Lana turned toward Zoe. Zoe lifted her hands as if to question the content of the conversation. Without speaking, her mouth said, “What?”

  Lana asked Maria, “Can you hold on just a second please?”

  “Sure.”

  Lana covered the phone with her free hand and whispered to Zoe.

  “It’s Maria, from my class at Crescent Falls. She’s asking about a reunion. It’s our twentieth. What do you think? Should I get on board?”

  Zoe looked surprised. The nineteen-year-old forcefully whispered, “Yes! Of course you should. It’ll be good for you! Besides, you might enjoy hearing everyone’s stories and stuff.”

  In her heart, Lana knew she should go, but her mind remained cautious. The demons were lurking. Yet her passion for people won her over. Besides, this wasn’t the first time Zoe had given Lana good advice. Lana trusted her daughter’s discernment. Consequently, she agreed. Lana and Maria made arrangements to meet with Kate and Bryan.

  When she hung up her cell phone, Lana couldn’t help but think about Noah. Would he be invited? Her heart sank. Would he come? Was he married? Oh my! What have I committed to?

  Lana flicked her index finger forward, indicating that Zoe should resume driving, but kept looking out the window. She hadn’t thought about Noah since her divorce from Bill. After seven years, Bill had buckled under the pressure of living in her shadow. Lana’s success became more than he could handle. So one day, he disappeared, and a man she loved once again abandoned her. Still, Noah always remained in her heart.

  What does he look like now? she wondered. Does he have children? A family?

  The mountains in the distance transformed into images of Noah Berkley, her true love, the boy she had hoped to marry. She saw her reflection in the window and noticed a black stream running down her cheek. She carefully wiped her eyes, so Zoe wouldn’t see.

  I’ve not heard from him in twenty years. Why would he bother?

  In that brief moment of negativity, Lana’s optimism took root. It’ll be okay, she said to herself. He’s probably long since forgotten about me, and Crescent Falls. And that’s okay. Really.

  7th

  Bryan observed the fear in the boy’s stance as he stared into the school entrance. The basketball player began to slowly back up as if a predator threatened to strike. Bryan moved quickly toward the court. The kid’s fear seemed to increase with each second, giving Bryan reason to quicken his pace. His handcuffs, radio and other gear clanged and jingled as he trotted across the court. The other boys watched their friend anxiously, even though they could not see what he was looking at.

  The boy’s head cocked to one side, parallel with his shoulders, into a defensive position. His eyes were riveted on the doorway, looking deep into the building. Bryan observed the boy cautiously step back, then he tripped on the concrete and fell down. He raised his hands to cover his face—a hurried motion, prompted by his instincts to protect himself. Bryan and the other boys watched in horror as something that could only be described as energy as strong as a gale-force wind blew across his body. The basketball that lay on the ground bounced with the wind, or whatever it was, and hammered the boy hard on his protective arms, knocking him flat on the rough pavement. The wind stunned the boy. He lay there motionless and out of breath.

  The shock of the force caused the other boys to take a defensive stance as well. They covered their faces for a moment, instinctively shielding their eyes from the mysterious energy. Seconds later, the temperature dropped drastically. Bryan watched them cross their arms and begin to shiver. As rapidly as the force attacked, it left with equal haste, but not so fast that the witnesses did not see a trace of its form.

  “Did you see that?” asked one of the boys.

  “What was it?” asked another.

  Bryan walked onto the basketball court near the boy, stunned by what had transpired. His position required that he maintain a level head and a keen eye. Unlike the boys, who seemed to be caught up in the moment, Bryan noticed the smallest details—the details that made the experience so fearful for him.

  He squatted down next to the boy on the ground and asked, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” The boy shook his head, indicating that he was fine. Bryan remained still, silently contemplating what had occurred.

  The dazed boy lifted his head. “Did anyone see the light?”

  “What light?” asked one of his friends.

  “All I saw was one of those weird little twisters,” said another.

  “That’s right boys, we just encountered a straight-line wind,” Bryan added, disguising what might have really happened. “Straight-line winds are usually pretty strong and come out of nowhere. Now listen, you boys better head home. I’m gonna take a look around and make sure there isn’t any damage to your friend, or the school. Got it?”

  They answered, “Yes, sir,” and then ran away.

  Bryan reached down, grabbed the teenager’s hand and helped him up. The lanky boy dusted himself off and stared at Bryan as if asking a question with his eyes.

  “What’s your name?” asked Bryan.

  “Gavin.”

  The boy paused and continued staring. Bryan began to feel uncomfortable with the boy’s uncanny demeanor.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” asked Gavin.

  “Saw what?” Bryan preferred avoidance as a first defense.

  “The light. Did you see it?”

  Bryan took off his hat, rubbed his eyes and looked back through the glass doors. With one hand on his hip, he took a deep breath and admitted, “I think I saw something. I won’t swear that I saw a light per se, but I saw something. I don’t know what it was, but I could see it in your body language—I could tell from your eyes that there was something there, something coming at you.” He put his hat back on. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?”

  Still somewhat startled, the boy spoke in a monotone that revved up to a near panic. “I…I, don’t know what it was exactly. At first, when I looked inside the school…I was just curious, because I felt a little funny standing that close. You know? I was feeling kinda scared, like the hairs on my neck were standing up. You know? Then all of a sudden, I saw this figure way down the hall. It was…sort of milky, sort of cloudy, fading like a ghost. I swear I thought it turned to look at me and that’s when I really freaked out. The more I stared, the more I felt anger coming into my mind, like it was controlling me, like it hated me! That’s when it started running. It moved so fast that all I could see was light!” The boy exhaled. “Does that sound crazy to you? Do you think I’m crazy? I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’ve never experienced anything like that.” He paused to catch his breath. He looked traumatized, a look Bryan knew all too well.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go home too,” said Gavin. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “That’s fine. But before you go, I want you to know that I did see a dim light coming at you. I think they call that an orb. After the force blew through you, I saw it go back inside.” Bryan felt chills just thinking about the whole experience.

  “What’s an orb?”

  “Well, they say it’s the visible energy of a…a ghost, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” the boy asked.

&nb
sp; “I’m not sure.” Bryan stared back at the school, questioning his own beliefs.

  “Well I’m not gonna stand here and wait for that thing to come back. I gotta go.” The teen grabbed his basketball and ran off. He never looked back.

  Bryan inspected the entrance to see if he could find any trace evidence of what had just occurred, but found nothing. He tried to pull the doors open, leaving room for the possibility that someone was pulling a prank. They were locked, and he knew that no one had come in or out of the building while he was there. For Deputy Jacobs, this would go down as one of the many unexplainable events that fell through the cracks of official paperwork. Plenty of good cops had witnessed the surreal or paranormal on occasion, only to let their experience fall flat on history, leaving no trace of its occurrence for fear of professional ridicule. Bryan knew the unwritten code. He would later confess to what he saw, but only under extreme coercion.

  As Bryan continued the investigation, he put his nose to the glass door to look inside. The orb sighting aroused his curiosity. With his face pressed against the door, and no one around, his breath fogged up the glass. He stared down the long hallway that had served as a conduit for generations of students. He recalled the days when he and his classmates had roamed the halls free of fear. He remembered the days when teachers smiled and his classmates proudly hung their projects on the walls for public display. While he reminisced, he wiped the moisture from the glass with his sleeve and continued the healing moment. He closed his eyes and pictured the multitude of kids who had walked and pranced in and out of the hallways, joyfully soaking up their fortunate and blessed education. Yet, while he reflected upon his youth, there arose a sudden shift in his disposition.