When His Dreams Take Flight

by Andy Holloman

  “Do you think the bus has any significance to the shooter?” Gene pointed to the top of the North Building. ‘Cause that might put him on top of that building if he was planning to shoot south.”

  “No idea. But good thinking,” said Nick.

  “At least the arrival of the school bus is some kind of clue as to when the guy is on top of the building, right?”

  Nick smiled. “Yeah. That’s a good point. Sure is good to be working with a cop.”

  Gene took off his John Deere cap, scratched his head, and then replaced the cap. “Well, just think about this. The bus is bringing the kids here for a field trip, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So we can probably narrow down the time to say, normal school hours. Then let’s assume that the field trip starts in the morning and ends in time for the kids to get back to school before dismissal.”

  “Not bad. I see where you’re headed.”

  “So my guess is that if anything’s going to happen, it’ll be this morning.”

  “I think you’re right. Then we gotta plan on this thing going down pretty soon.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Eight.”

  They both watched as students began to move between buildings, going to classes, chatting. It seemed like a normal day. Maybe, Nick thought, nothing would happen. Perhaps this last dream didn’t portend anything.

  Two hours later, they both sat on the bench in the center of the square, facing the bus loop. The school bus arrived. Gene stood up. “I’m gonna try to get the folks on that bus to get out of here.” He walked towards the bus carrying the baseball bag. Nick stood and stretched his arms.

  Bang. Pieces of brick exploded from the corner of the East Building. Nick ducked down in front of the bench. Bang. The sounds echoed between the buildings. Gene dove on the ground and rolled behind a tree. He was a hundred yards from the school bus and they were beginning to unload. A woman lay on the ground by the East Building

  “Nick! Stay behind that tree. Don’t get up!” yelled Gene.

  Nick watched as a group of four students exited the West Building’s front door. “Hey, you folks! Get back inside the—” Bang. The shot exploded into the brick walkway in front of them. Bang. The student furthest out the door spun violently to his right and fell down. The other three immediately pulled back into the building. Before the wounded student could get back up, another loud bang sounded and he flattened out on the ground. One of the three that had fled back into the building crawled back to the door and pushed it open, trying to get to the injured person. Bang. The door exploded, showering glass down on top of her.

  “Get back inside! Don’t come out!” yelled Nick. She crawled back inside. His phone rang in his pocket. He fished it out. “Gene, what the hell? Can you see anything?”

  “Nothing yet. Stay right where you are. I think I’m in a good position and he’s got to be on top of the North Building. Keep yelling at everyone to stay inside.”

  “Oh shit! The bus is still unloading.”

  Gene turned onto his side, “Hey! You kids! Get behind the bus right now!”

  The children didn’t react. Their chatter covered Gene’s shouts. Nick tucked his phone into his pocket and sprinted across the square to the corner of the East Building where the first victim lay. Bang. Pieces of brick sprayed out from the corner of the building and fell on Nick. He dove and rolled behind the building. He reached out from the corner and grabbed the victim’s hand and began pulling her towards him. Bang. Tissue and blood sprayed from the victim’s back into Nick’s face. He let go and fell backwards.

  “Nick! What the hell are you doing?” Gene had turned his speaker phone on and placed it on the ground beside the 30-30. He scanned the rooftop of the North Building through the scope. Bang. A window at the midpoint of the bus exploded. Screams erupted from the mass of children as they ran in all directions.

  “Children, children! Stop! Get behind the bus now!” yelled the teacher. The children turned back towards the bus and she herded them behind it.

  Nick took out his phone. “Gene! What’s happening? Did you see the guy?”

  “I did. But he’s back down now. I’ve got a bead on the spot where he ducked down. If he comes up again, I’ll have a shot at him.”

  “Okay. I’ll get him back up again.”

  “Nick, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I got ‘em. I got ‘em,” yelled Nick as he sprinted towards the center of the square. Bang. He fell ten yards from the benches. Another gunshot sounded, closer to Nick. He crawled the remaining distance until he was safe behind the tree.

  “Nick! Nick! You okay?”

  He held the phone up to his ear. “Goddamn man, god, it hurts. It’s my foot. Feels like it’s on fire.”

  “I got ‘em, Nick! Saw the bastard’s head explode through my scope. I’m coming to get you.” He packed the rifle back into the baseball bag. Police sirens sounded in the distance. Blood covered the ground under Nick’s foot. Tears streamed down his face.

  “How is it?”

  “It fucking hurts like shit! Oh my god!”

  “At least it’s just a foot. You’re a goddamn nutbag to run out in the open like that.”

  “Had to do something. If I didn’t get him back up, then you wouldn’t have been able to blow his head off.” Nick started to get up but fell back down on the brick. Gene extended his hand.

  “Here you go.” He lifted Nick up. “Sit on the bench. I’m going to wrap up your foot. Then we have to get out of here.” He took a bandana from his pocket and tied it around his foot.

  Nick grimaced. “Hey, man, not so damn tight.”

  He pulled Nick up to his feet. “Can you walk?”

  “I’ll make it.” He took a step forward. “We did good, didn’t we?”

  Gene slipped his left arm around his waist and Nick put his arm on Gene’s shoulder. “Yeah, we did, buddy. We did real good. Your dream and my rifle saved a few lives today.”

  “I’m glad. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  XV - April 17

  Nick sat in Allison’s apartment while she changed the dressing on his foot. CNN played on the TV. He lifted the remote from his lap and increased the volume.

  “Hold on, baby. Let’s watch this.”

  “Nickie, keep your foot up on the stool. We’re already running a risk by not seeing a doctor. It could get infected if you’re not careful, then you will have to see a doctor and explain what happened.”

  “I’m sorry, dearie. Come here and give your poor wounded soldier a kiss.” He leaned towards her and she pushed him back down on the couch.

  “… story that continues to captivate the country from here in Austin, TX. A lone gunman atop a building, at the Texas College of Oil and Gas, set out Monday to shoot innocent college students and elementary school children. Authorities are still putting together the pieces at this point, but the shooter has been identified as Brian Cates, an unemployed gas pipeline worker who police had been investigating in regards to a domestic violence charge filed two weeks ago.”

  “I thought that you said the guy worked at the college or something like that?”

  “Shhh. The story details keep changing. Just listen.”

  “…fired down on the square you see behind me, here at the college, and killed two people. Based on what we know so far, and let me stress that the information we are receiving is preliminary, it appears that a teacher leading a group of elementary school students on the field trip here at the college, was Cates’ estranged wife, Helen Cates.

  “Now, John, you heard me say that the police ‘had been investigating,’ The reason I used the past tense is that some unknown gunman was also here on the campus and seemed to be aware of Mr. Cates’ plan. This person killed Mr. Cates, with a shot through the head, and was thus able to greatly minimize the number of casualties that might have occurred.”

  “So, Steve, you’re saying that this mystery shooter was there at the time Mr. Cates beg
an firing, and thus knew that this was going to happen and so was positioned with a rifle to stop Mr. Cates?”

  “That’s right, John. Somehow this person, actually these people, because there were two men involved in stopping this shooter, apparently knew that Cates was going to be here, on this day, randomly firing on the this square here in Austin.”

  “Now, Steve, I’m not clear on this. So there were two people that were trying to stop the shooter?”

  “Yes, John. Eyewitness accounts say that in addition to the man who shot Cates, another, younger man was positioned in the center of the square, protected by a large tree and was signaling to folks walking in the area to stay inside and thus out of harm’s way. This younger man, who witnesses say is named “Nick,” also risked his life to try and save the first student who was shot, by pulling her behind one of the buildings.”

  “Nickie, we really need to talk. I haven’t been able to sleep for two days thinking about you almost being killed.” He pulled her onto the couch and hugged her.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here and I’m okay. Do you see how many lives Gene and I saved?” She rested her head on his shoulder.

  “…artist composite drawings of the two men have been released by the Austin Police department. The older suspect is named “Gene” and appears to be about sixty-five years old, stands five feet, ten inches tall, and weighs about two hundred pounds.”

  “That is such a funny picture of Gene. I’m going to print out a copy of that drawing and frame it and give it to him. Doesn’t really look anything like him, huh?”

  “No, not really. Makes him look thinner.”

  “Wait, here comes mine.” He pointed at the screen.

  She smiled. “Hmm, now I would say that’s a pretty good likeness.”

  “Really? I don’t think so at all.”

  “…really strange about all this, John, is that the Austin police have put out a statement saying that these two men fit the description of two men who prevented a shooting at a middle school in Batesboro, Arkansas last month. Not only do they fit the description, but the names also match. So police here in Austin are asking that anyone who may know these two men to contact their TIP hotline or visit their website and provide details.”

  “Fascinating, Steve. So somewhere out there are two heroes who may have saved lives at two different school shooting events?”

  “For now, John, that is what we suspect. These men are true heroes in the eyes of the Austin Police and the witnesses here at the college.”

  He clicked off the TV. “Cool. Did you hear that? True heroes.”

  “Well, I guess you are heroes. But don’t expect me to celebrate.”

  “I understand, dear. Look, this thing is done for me. No more falling off the wagon, so no more dreams.”

  “Please keep that promise, Nickie. The baby and I need you.”

  “That part of my life is all done, my lovely.” He touched her stomach. “What matters most to me is right here.”

  “Why in the world has this happened to you, Nickie? A dream that comes true after you drink? I run this over and over in my mind and it just doesn’t make any sense.”

  He shook his head. “I know. Gene and I talked about it. The place that I’ve gotten to on all this, and it’s the same for Gene, is that we’re never going to know why.

  “But why in the hell is this thing you have attached to drinking? I’m not saying this is a good idea, but I mean it must get you thinking that if you drank more often, then you’d prevent more of these school shootings.”

  “Sure, I’ve thought about that. Gene and I talked about that, too. I mean, there’ve been a few other shootings this year that I didn’t know anything about. If had gotten wasted a few days before, would I have known about them? I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

  “What if you had been able to stop that guy at Sandy Hook? What was his name?”

  “Adam Lanza. I think about Newtown a lot. The first dream I had was just a few days after that shooting.”

  “Still, you can’t poison yourself with tequila in the hopes that maybe you could save someone.”

  “That’s where I am about all of it. I mean, if you think about it, the reasons, the whys, it kinda makes you go crazy. But everything’s settled now. No more drinking, no more events.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “God, Nickie, I love you so much. That’s the way I want it. You are so brave. Like my knight in shining armor.”

  “Why thank you, my beautiful, freckled maiden.” He raised his head towards her and puckered his lips. “Now how about rewarding your brave knight with a big kiss.”

  “I’d be glad to, kind sir.” She gave him a long kiss.

  “Whoa. Now that was a kiss.”

  “You deserve it.” She sat back on the couch. “So can we talk about our new wedding date now?”

  “Nothing would make me happier, my sweetheart. How about late September? We can get married and introduce our beautiful new baby to everyone at the same time.” She reached back and got her datebook from the desk behind the couch. She turned to September.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking. What about September 28?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You want to see the guest list I made up?”

  “Not now. But is it a long list?”

  “Just twenty-five.”

  “Good. And did you think any more on what I suggested about Gene?”

  She nodded, “I would love to have Gene be the one to walk me down the aisle.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll call him later and tell him to save the date.”

  XVI - May 18

  For the first time since his injury, he woke up and thought that it would be a good morning for a run. He slipped into shorts, his running shoes, and walked out into a bright morning. A mile into his run, a speeding police car approached him, lights and siren on. He moved off the road and watched it go by. He finished after running an extra mile beyond his normal three. He felt ten years younger. He walked back into his apartment and grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge.

  Two hours later he was getting out of the shower and heard someone knocking at the front door. He threw on a robe and opened it. It was Alice Wilson, the woman who had taken over the chief of police position after Gene retired.

  “Alice, uh, what’s up? What brings you here?”

  “Hey, Nick. Can I come in?

  “Sure. C’mon in.”

  “Need to talk with you.”

  “Okay. Want some coffee?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be great. I take mine black.” She sat down at the kitchen table and he brought her a cup. He sat down across from her.

  “It’s hard to say this, Nick, hard for you and me both. He meant a lot to both of us.”

  “What? Who are you talking about?”

  “It’s Gene, Nick. Someone reported a wreck this morning. It was Gene’s car. He died last night.”

  “Gene? Dead?” He shook his head. “What the hell happened?”

  “We found his car smashed into a tree. It was off Old Highway 29, about three miles north of town. There’s a real bad curve up there just past the bridge that goes over Thompson Creek. That curve has caused a few wrecks over the years. He’d been dead for five or six hours.”

  He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. His gut lurched and his hand went to his stomach. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Oh God, Alice. I can’t, I mean, how could Gene be dead?” He wiped his eyes. She took his hand.

  “I’m really, really sorry, Nick. I know that you guys were like brothers. He talked about you a lot. About how good you were at your job, about what a good friend you were to him. You knew about his drinking problem, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did.” He stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. “I don’t get it about his being in an accident. He was a safe driver, safer than me. Always drove under the speed limit.”

  “Well, by what we could determine, and
this is really early, so nothing is certain. But it looks to us that maybe, he had been drinking. We’re doing some more tests, but the accident could be alcohol-related.”

  He spun around and leaned against the sink. “No way. That can’t be true, Alice. He’s been so strong. I just can’t believe that he fell down after all this time.

  “I hear you. I knew about his problem. I thought he had gotten past it. People do fall back into the habit, and it appears that’s what happened.” Nick ran his hands up across his face and through his hair.

  “It just doesn’t seem right. I think he would’ve called me.”

  “Well, remember, we’re just getting started on this. But there was a busted Jim Beam bottle in the car.”

  Nick wiped his face with the back of his hand. “What the hell? Look, Alice I’m just—I just can’t take all this in.” He paced the floor in front of her. “So you’re saying he got wasted with a bottle of bourbon and smashed into a tree?”

  “We think so.”

  “But Gene couldn’t drink bourbon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He told me the stuff burned a hole in his gut. He was a scotch and vodka man. If he had fallen off the wagon, he wouldn’t do it with bourbon.” Nick closed his eyes. “Are you sure you saw a Jim Beam bottle?”

  “No doubt about it. His blood test will take a week. Of course that won’t tell us exactly what he was drinking.”

  “He hated bourbon.”

  “He was your sponsor, wasn’t he?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. He was always there for me.”

  “I’m sure he was.” She brushed some crumbs off the table. “He was a special guy. When he wasn’t drinking, I could rely on him.” She handed him a napkin and he dabbed his eyes and nose.

  “Did you see anything else inside or around the car?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. Like I said, the accident just happened, so we’re still gathering evidence.”

  He covered his face with his hands. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Not Gene.”

  “I understand, Nick. There are parts of people’s lives that we just can’t know. I’ve been doing this job a long time and I still get surprised.”