by Callie Hart
It's Karen, Darhower’s assistant. Her shoes are gone, stockings ripped, her knees all scraped and bleeding. Wildly, she grabs hold of me, sobbing silently.
“All the exits are locked,” she whispers. “Chained on the outside. There’s no way out. He said he was going to kill me, but I ran…”
“It’s okay. He won’t. He’s not going to kill you. Where is he?”
“I don't—” She jumps, spinning around, as if she thinks the shooter might suddenly be right behind her. “I don't know. I think…I think he went toward the library.”
Great. The library only has one entrance. If he has gone there, then everyone inside is fucked. He’ll be able to stalk from one stack to the next, putting down whoever the hell he comes across until everyone’s fucking dead. “Stay out of sight,” I tell Karen. “Find a room with a lock. A closet. Anything. Just stay hidden until someone comes and finds you.”
I leave her behind before she can beg me to stay with her. My heart’s fucking galloping as I sneak out into the hallway. Packed only minutes ago, the place is now deserted…apart from the six bodies lying dead on the floor.
One of the kids looks like a freshman. Half her fucking face is missing. Her cell phone’s still clutched in her lifeless hand, lit up, a call coming in. The name ‘Mom’ repeatedly flashes on the screen.
Jesus fucking Christ.
There are faces at the classroom doors, timid, scared shitless, as I hurry down the hall. The entrance to the library’s fifteen feet away, up another flight of stairs. Another round of shots rings out, coming from that direction, confirming Karen’s suspicions.
Fuck, this is so fucking stupid.
Fly away, Passerotto? Find cover. Find someplace safe. Don’t be a hero, baby.
My mother’s voice whispers into my ear as I begin to climb the stairs. I grind my teeth together, tensing, wishing I could fucking heed her words, but I can’t. I just can’t. If I do, more people are going to die.
At the doors to the library, I see it: a gun, discarded on the floor. Stooping, I pick it up, checking the clip as a fresh hail of gunfire erupts from inside.
“God, what the hell are you doing, man! Fuck! Stop! I’m gonna fucking kill y—”
CRACK!
The fearful, strained voice is cut off, dead.
The gun’s clip is empty. Goddamnit, this is so fucking stupid. What use is an empty gun? I’m gonna end up shot myself at this rate. But Silver… she’s upstairs, trapped inside that sound booth. There’s no way in hell I’m letting someone roam the halls of Raleigh, picking off people until he finds her. I will die trying to bring him down first. I’ll fucking kill him before he can get to her.
Passerotto, go. Find the police. Be smart. Be safe.
I pretend I’m not shitting myself as I toe the library door open. I pretend I’m not picturing own my own death as I step inside.
Almost immediately, I nearly trip over yet another corpse. It’s Cillian Dupris, one of the motherfuckers who hurt Silver. His eyes are blank, mouth yawning open, surprise on his face as he gapes up at me.
Gingerly, I step over him, crouching down, hurrying toward the librarian’s desk, taking cover behind it. Blood, so dark it’s almost black, pools on the floor there. I risk a quick glance around the side of the desk and find Mrs. Peters lying on her stomach, arm stretched out in front of her, a frightening amount of blood oozing out from her chest. The left lens of her glasses is shattered, her dark eyes staring off into spa—
She blinks, and I fall back on my ass, nearly colliding with an overstocked book cart. “Fuck!”
Her hand opens and closes, reaching for me, and I hold my index finger to my mouth, miming for her to stay silent. Her eyes close anyway, a wet rattle coming out of her mouth, and she falls still.
“You don’t have to do this,” a female voice whispers, close, maybe only two or three stacks away. “I’m sorry! I really am. I didn’t…I didn’t even think you cared.”
A male voice responds, hard and cold. “Didn’t think I cared? That’s the problem with you, isn’t it? You never fucking think. You just do whatever the hell you like, and fuck how your actions might affect anyone else. You’re so fucking self-centered.”
“Come on. Just listen, okay. Okay. Yeah. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change. It’ll be the same as last year. We’ll go on that trip—”
“SHUT UP! Just shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch! You think I’d take you back after what you did?”
I can barely differentiate between heartbeats as I hurry out from behind the desk, skirting around Mrs. Peters, in the direction of the voices. It takes everything in me not to charge around the stack and launch myself, fists flying, but I need to see. To assess the situation. I could end up ruining my only chance at surprise if I fuck this up. I straighten, holding the empty gun in my hand, and I peer around the tall stack, holding my breath.
Kacey Winters is in a heap on the floor, her back pressed up against the wall, her face red, trembling so hard her shoulders are visibly shaking. Around her, a puddle of yellow liquid is spreading, soaking through her cheerleading skirt. She sees me, her eyes going wide…
…and then the guy with the semi-automatic hunting rifle pointed at her head curses, spinning around to face me.
I react, throwing up the gun I’m holding, even though it’s empty. “Steady. Steady, Leon. Just take a breath, man. We do not have to fucking do this.”
33
SILVER
“He’s not coming back. He’s the only one who knows we’re in here, and he’s not coming back. We’re all going to fucking die.”
Sophia hasn't stopped freaking out. Neither have I, but she's too loud in her panic, and she won't shut the hell up. The sound booth is small—nothing more than a cubicle, really. The three of us are all trying to pace at once, frantically trying to get our cell phones to work, but none of our devices can get a signal. The entire network seems to be down.
“He will come back,” I say tightly. “Alex won’t just leave us here. He’ll come back for us when it’s safe.”
“He’s probably already dead. You heard all those shots just now.”
“Sophia, I swear to god, if you say one more thing about anyone dying, I’m going to kill you myself,” I snap.
Alicia gasps, hugging Sophia into her side, giving me a baleful look. “Threats aren’t constructive here. Neither is talking about Silver’s psycho boyfriend dying. We all just need to stay quiet. We need to stay calm.”
“I know. I’ve been saying that for the last ten minutes. Can you…fuck, both of you. Can you please just sit down? The three of us bouncing around in here is making me crazy.”
“You’re moving about just as much as us,” Sophia moans around her tears. “it’s not like—”
DUM DUM DUM!
The loud thuds fill the sound booth, and all three of us shriek, grabbing each other’s hands. From outside comes a demand that sends panic skating up my spine: “Let me in!”
“Are you the police?” Alicia yells.
“No, I’m not the fucking police! I’m standing out here in the wide open. Let me in, for fuck’s sake!”
I recognize the voice. It’s been haunting me for the past nine months, forcing me to relive the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me every time I’ve heard it in the hallways of Raleigh.
“That’s Jacob,” Sophia says, sniffling. “Jake, is that you?”
“Yes!”
“Prove it,” Alicia demands.
“God, do you want me to slide my fucking driver’s license underneath the door? Open up.”
Alicia and Sophia almost climb over each other in their haste to unlock the door. I step in front of them, the tiny room spinning like a merry go round, blocking their path.
“What are you doing?” Alicia hisses. “Let him in. We’ll be safe if he’s in here with us.”
I stand firm. “How do you know that? What if he’s the shooter?”
The girls pause, uncertai
nty all over their faces. “Well…why would he sound so panicky if he was the one with the gun?” Sophie reasons.
God, this girl would be the first to fucking die in a horror movie. “To trick us into opening the door obviously!”
“Who’s in there?” Jake shouts through the door.
“It’s me, Allie. Sophia and Silver, too,” Alicia answers back.
“Why did you tell him that?” Sophia growls, slapping her friend’s arm like she’s a naughty little child.
Alicia rubs at her arm, feigning hurt. “What’s the harm in him knowing if he can’t get in?”
A thick, heavy silence has fallen in the music room beyond the sound booth. Jacob’s obviously realized how little chance he has of being admitted into the booth now that he knows I’m inside.
I allow myself a sick, twisted moment of satisfaction.
“Silver? Can you hear me?” he says softly. “Silver, please. If you don’t let me in and I die, what do you think’s gonna happen to your family? My father’ll know you shut me out. He’ll ruin them. You know it’s true. Be better if you let me in so I can wait this out with you.”
It’s a ridiculous thing to say. He’s grasping, trying to concoct something that’ll scare me into giving into him, but it’s not going to work. “Really? You really think threatening me is an appropriate tactic?”
Another loud thud crashes against the door, this time bordering on violent. “Let me in, Silver, or so help me I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Jake? Hurt me? Humiliate me? Bully me? Destroy my entire fucking life? You already did that, remember?”
“Silver, please…”
Below us, in the library, a jarring, thunderous round of shots sound out, shaking the floor beneath our feet.
“See. Jake can’t be the one with the gun if they’re shooting down there,” Sophia says. “What the fuck is your problem. Let him in.”
“Please, Silver.” On the other side of the door, Jake sounds like he’s about to break down and start sobbing.
For all that he’s done, I should not open the door.
The initial assault was reason enough to leave him out there to be shot, but add the months and months of psychological abuse I’ve suffered at his hands within the very walls of this school? Jacob Weaving deserves whatever brutal death awaits him.
He tried as hard as he could, but he didn't succeed in truly breaking me, though. He stole so much from me, but he didn't take my humanity. A part of me almost wishes he had, as I reluctantly unlock the door to the sound booth and let him in.
He rushes inside, collapsing to his knees, shaking just as severely as Sophia was a moment ago. He cowers, holding his head in his hands, and a strangled sob fills the cramped booth. Alicia and Sophia look down at him, shock and concern developing on their faces, and I allow myself the smallest moment of victory.
“You really think he's going to protect you now?” I ask bitterly. Stooping low, I scoot down so that I'm level with Jacob, eye to eye with the bastard who pinned me down and raped me. “I don't think so. See, you've always been a fucking coward, haven't you, Jake? Your strength and bravado are a pathetic act. Deep down, you've always been…this.”
He flinches at the raw disgust in my voice.
He doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t deny a single thing. He casts his gaze down at his hands, and he silently weeps.
34
ALEX
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me in the middle of a crisis,” Leon says, laughing shakily. His hands are steady on the rifle, though. They don’t waver an inch. The gun remains firmly aimed at my forehead. “Kacey and I were just ironing out a few issues, weren’t we, Kace? I was just letting her know how much I fucking hate her for dumping my ass via text after four years of dating. Coming to my house, acting like she still belongs there, draping herself all over Jacob fucking Weaving. Thought it was hilarious, didn’t you, Kacey? Go on. Tell Alex what you did at the party after he left. I’m sure he’s just dying to hear.”
Stall, stall, stall. The longer I can keep him talking, the longer I can keep him from killing anybody. “I could use a story,” I say evenly. “What d’you do, Kacey?”
The girl who threatened me in the parking lot only yesterday looks at me with pleading, desperate eyes. “That’s not important right now, Leon. What we really need to do is get you out of here before the cops show up.”
She just pissed herself, but it appears Kacey still has enough fire in her veins to try and manipulate her ex. Leon knows her better than anyone, though. He dealt with her for four years; he sees straight through the act without missing a beat.
“Oh, please, Kay Kay. You’ll be shoving me in front of a firing squad the second you get. You’re a horrible fucking actress. Always were. Tell Alex what you did after he left the party or I’ll shoot you in that vicious, ugly face of yours and I’ll tell him myself.”
“I—I slept with my boyfriend. At a party. Big deal, Leon. People hook up at parties all the time.”
“WHERE!” Leon screams. “Where did you hook up with your boyfriend?”
“In your bed,” she whispers.
Leon’s eyes are full of madness. He nods violently. “And there you have it. You fucked Jacob fucking Weaving in my fucking bed.”
“It was supposed to be funny, Leon. Jesus, it was a joke.”
“Funny? What kind of fucking psychopath are you? What kind of sick, twisted mind do you have, if you think something as spiteful and shitty as that would be funny?”
“Everyone…everyone thought it was funny,” she pants.
Leon stills. He’s staring at me, dead in the eye, but his focus is most definitely on the girl behind him. “Exactly. You told everyone. You used me as a source of entertainment. You ridiculed me, made me look like an idiot, and everyone laughed along with you because you’re Kacey fucking Winters, and if they’re not laughing along with you, then you’re singling them out and tearing their lives apart. Don’t you realize? You think people worship the ground you walk on in this school, but they don’t. They fucking hate you. They’re afraid of you. They walk around on eggshells, hoping you don’t even notice them, because you are a vile, vindictive, spiteful cunt.”
She can’t keep her tongue in her head. She just can’t help herself. “You think anyone’s gonna love you after this? You’re the fucking psycho, Leon! You’ve killed half the fucking school!”
“I’ve killed eighteen people, actually. You never were any good at math,” Leon spits.
“Leon, it’s seriously fucked up that she did that,” I say, inching closer. “You and I both know Kacey’s a piece of trash, though. Is she really worth all of this? Is she really worth any more violence?”
Leon narrows his eyes, adjusting his grip on the rifle. For a second, I'm hopeful—he looks like he doubts himself—but then he clenches his jaw, his shoulders tensing, and the moment has passed. His finger shifts on the trigger. “I thought you of all people would understand this, Alex. You're with Silver. Cillian, Sam, Kacey…they all hurt her, y'know. How can they hurt anyone else if they're all fucking dead? How can any of them laugh at someone else’s pain again, if they’re not around to see it?”
“Man, you’re right. These guys should all be punished for what they’ve done. But that doesn’t mean you should arm yourself and go on a…on a…”
“Killing spree?” His brows rise. “It’s okay. You can say it. I know exactly what I’ve done.”
“How are you going to live with all of this?” I whisper. “When you’re finished, and you’ve painted every single wall in this building red? How are you going to reconcile yourself with that?”
“Don’t you watch the news, Alex?” he says bitterly. “The troubled kid who murders half his classmates never lives. I don’t plan on being the exception to the rule.”
“Leon. Leon, please, man. Let’s just take a step back for a second. We’re traveling at a hundred and eighty miles an hour right now. No one’s thinking clearly.”
“I am. I
stood up for the first time in my life and said enough. Enough is enough. This is the clearest I’ve been able to think in a long, long time. I have no issues with you, Moretti. You’ve only been stuck at Raleigh a month. You seem like a decent guy. You should just leave now. Get the hell out of here. Be the last man standing.”
“Fuck, I’d love to do that, I really would. But there’s a girl inside this building who I love more than life itself, and I can’t just let you hurt her. And all of these other kids? They might be assholes, and they might treat other people like shit, but they have people waiting outside who love them. Would I be a decent guy if I turned my back on this and let it happen? How many hearts have to break? How many people have to—”
I’ve been so focused on trying to get through to him that I haven’t noticed Kacey. She’s not sitting on the floor in a puddle of her own piss anymore. She’s on her feet, and suddenly she’s rushing at Leon, screaming…
Leon spins, firing the rifle into the stack of books as he turns, spraying a hail of bullets in his wake.
Fuuuuck!
I charge him, grabbing for the rifle. The metal is warm and deadly in my hand, unrelenting. Leon has a firm grip on it, though, the weapon braced into his shoulder, locked against his body. I drop the empty gun, freeing up my other hand, and I drive a right hook into his ribs, trying to wind him. I wind him, all right, but Leon’s a stubborn bastard. He doesn’t let go. Staggering backward, he slams himself into the book stacks behind him, and Kacey screams out in pain. She falls to the floor, whimpering, scrambling away as I kick out at Leon’s legs, trying to take him out at the knees.
For someone so resigned to die, Leon sure puts up one hell of a fight. He’s desperate as he twists his body, struggling to aim the rifle at Kacey.
“Just her,” he grinds out between his teeth. “She’s the only one that really matters.”
“LEON, STOP!”
Everything happens in a blur.
The deafening bang.
The blow to my ribs.