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“Ignition/Detonation”
A foot tripped him up in the hallway, his books spilling out across the hard linoleum floor. Stopping his fall with his palms, he spun around to see two familiar faces laughing at him – pointing and laughing like there was no tomorrow. Darrel with his red Mohawk, Jim with his shaved head; both of them sporting torn jeans, sleeveless tee shirts, the latest fashionable trainers and, of course, a plethora of expensive jewellery.
“Aww, look, the nerd tripped up!” Darrel teased
“Maybe he forgot how to walk!” Jim sneered, “Maybe he needs his mommy to teach him again!”
Darrel walked over to the dropped English exercise book, picking it up and thumbing through it. He soon pulled out a thin collection of paper, snickering when he read the title.
“What? ‘Condemnant Quod Non Intellegunt’?” he laughed, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is it the language of your imaginary friends?”
“It’s…Latin.” The younger boy stuttered, “It translates as--”
Darrel suddenly exploded into a fit of laughter.
“Ha! ‘And in that moment…’” he quoted insultingly, flicking through the pages, “ ‘…he realised that he…loved her!’”
The laughter continued, with Jim joining in.
“Man, what the hell is this emo crap?” Darrel howled, “It’s hilarious, I’ll give you that!”
Darrel flicked back through to the front page, and placed both his hands at the top of the document. He giggled like a carefree child imitating a ripping motion.
“Don’t touch that.” the boy stammered, starting to become more angry, “I’m supposed to hand that in today.”
“Oh, really?” Jim sneered, eyeing his partner in crime
“You know, I’d grade this at ‘T’ level…” Darrel grinned, “The ‘T’ standing for…”
The ripping screamed through the boy’s ears like an ear-splitting jackhammer, relentlessly eating away at his senses. Hours of excruciatingly hard work…gone in seconds.
“…’Inexplicably Torn To Shreds’!” Darrel finished, him and Jim now in fits of cruel laughter
Darrel tore the work into several more shreds before sprinkling pieces down in front of its creator. Worded shards, jagged and unrecognisable, fell like warped snowflakes to the floor. The boy only looked at the shards falling in front of him, the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach quickly setting in. Jim kicked the books back over to him, turning to Darrel. Both looked at each other before briefly nodding, in a fashion that implied almost literal mind reading between the two.
“See you later, jerk.” Darrel sneered, swiftly turning and walking down the hall with Jim
Left alone, the boy sighed heavily before beginning to slowly and solemnly gather up his books. Seconds after beginning this, he heard footsteps coming up the hall from behind him. He turned meekly to see a blonde girl dressed in blue coming towards him. Reaching him, she knelt down next to him.
“You all right, Dwaine?” she asked concernedly
“Yeah…” Dwaine replied glumly, “Everything’s…fine.”
The girl eyed the scraps of paper lying just ahead of her friend. She picked a piece up to fine words on them. Picking up more pieces, she could barely forge the sentence ‘Eng…h as…e…t’.
“Was…was this the homework Miss Lolen gave you in your English last week?” she asked, pausing
“What else does it look like?” Dwaine asked, acidic sarcasm evident in his voice
“Oh my god…I…” she stammered, trying to find the right words, “I…I’m so sorry, Dwaine, I--”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dwaine interjected with a heavy sigh, “It’s not your fault. English is next period so…I’m screwed.”
“You could try and explain to the teach--”
“Even if I did, I’d have to tell her that those two did it.” Dwaine interrupted again, dejected, “If I rat on them…they’ll break every bone in my body!”
“Aww, Dwaine, it’s just an empty threat.”
“Not with them!” Dwaine barked, startling the girl
“Look…why don’t we just get you up?” the girl said, helping Dwaine slowly to his feet before gathering his books for him. With his books in a neat stack, she handed them to him. He took them gratefully.
“Thanks, Dom.” Dwaine sighed
“No problemo.” She replied, smiling
The two began walking their separate ways, still having some time before the next lesson began. Halfway down the hallway, the girl turned around, calling his name. Dwaine turned to hear.
“Hey, Dwaine?” she called
“Yeah?”
“You know…you know that I’m always here if you need me, right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Despite the lack of confidence he had, he was about to boost it back up in the only way that made sense to him now. Slipping two bullets into the twin chambers of a sawn-off shotgun, he snapped the weapon shut with an acute quickness. At the other end of the short wooden table, he glanced over at the blunted ends of a crosscut saw and the other few inches of the black-as-coal barrels. He knew his father would be furious when he eventually found out and give him a thorough beating. Just like he always did when he came home drunk every single night. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore.
Stroking his parted strawberry blonde hair, he flinched as memories came flooding back to him.
Dwaine smiled to himself, thinking of all the nicknames he’d heard over the last several weeks; ‘Medusa’s ugly sister’, ‘Hitler 2.0’, ‘Mini-Nazi’, ‘Cleo The Neo’ and various other entertaining aliases the students had given the new teacher. She didn’t take kindly to any of them, and had a habit of making her classes a living hell for all who dared to walk through the door.
He wasn’t too far from the lesson now, and was due to be on time. Now there was something she couldn’t possibly rant about. Surely? It was impossible to tell. Even if the teacher was a hellion, at least he was comfortable knowing he was achieving fairly good grades in the subject. During the last semester, he had been holding onto a steady ‘B’, which he hoped to raise to an ‘A’.
Just around the corner from the lesson, a hand roughly gripped his hair, tied neatly back in a ponytail. His eyes widened in shock as he heard a short, sharp slicing sound. His hair instantly dropped into a crude mushroom. He spun around wildly to see Darrel standing in a cavalier fashion, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a thick wad of strawberry blonde hair in the other. As always, he was grinning from ear to ear like the idiot he was.
“What…WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Dwaine shrieked
“Isn’t it obvious? I chopped off your ponytail, pencil-dick.” Darrel scoffed, “The history teacher was always complaining about it. I’ve done you a favour haven’t I?”
There was nothing but silence.
“Hello?” Darrel said, “You gonna respond, queer?”
He got no answer. From behind him, Jim appeared, looking as cocky as ever. Walking up to Dwaine, he stood in front of him, dwarfing the smaller student. Dwaine suddenly doubled over, clutching his stomach in agony. Jim laughed, shaking his fist and blowing on his knuckles.
With this, the two casually walked away down the hall as if nothing had happened. As soon as they were out of sight, Dwaine leapt up. He reached down for his hair, picking it up and clutching it tightly, holding it to his chest as if it were his own child. His eyebrows suddenly narrowed, his grip becoming tighter, his eyes burning with a pure, malevolent rage. He wasn’t going to take this anymore. Ever. He gritted his teeth, throwing the hair down onto the ground, flinging up his rucksack and storming down the hall.
Slipping the black leather jacket over his shoulders, his arms racing through the dark corridors of the sleeves, he mentally thought his plan through. He was to meet up with Justin, a close friend, at the rear entrance to the school. From there, they’d wait until the school buses arrived. Once the students began entering, they’d ambush them in the assembly hall. He knew his main targets where the people who had caused him so much misery. If they were killed, he was happy. Anybody else; sure, why not?
Slinging his rucksack over his shoulder, he left the basement and ascended the stairs. Grabbing the house keys from the table in the foyer, he opened the front door of his suburban house, and began the usual thirty-minute walk to school.
What was initially a casual stroll towards the school became quick, long strides. Dwaine found himself becoming more and more desperate to get to the school, desperate to make somebody, anybody, everybody pay. As he quickened his pace, more voices confronted his psyche, the memories ruthlessly drilling into his skull like a sharp, jagged jackhammer that refused to stop until its work was done. Dwaine stopped temporarily, his fingerless gloves clutching his aching head as the voices rang out, echoing endlessly.
“Hey, pencil-dick!”
“Loser!”
“Nobody!”
“You pathetic short-ass!”
“You’ll never get anywhere, stupid!”
“Hey, look everybody, it’s the village idiot!”
“Well if it isn’t Mr. Five-Foot-Two!”
“Aw, is pencil-dick crying! Would you look at that?”
Losing his balance, Dwaine fell to his knees, still clutching his head and gasping for air. His breaths were hoarse and to anybody on the street, it looked like another asthmatic kid having an attack.
“Hey, kid, you okay?” came a voice
Dwaine turned shyly towards the voice, which had originated from the driver’s side of a BMW X5. A muscular blonde man in a tank top was leaning out of the window, a concerned look clearly visible on his face.
“What?” Dwaine croaked, standing up, “Oh, oh. I’m, uh, fine. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Come again?” the man asked, putting a hand up to his left ear
“I said I’m fine.” Dwaine coughed, his voice rising towards the end
“Are you sure?” asked the driver
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Dwaine answered, trying to sound light-hearted, “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
The tinted passenger window behind the driver slid down, revealing a blonde girl dressed in black. She stared at the boy, her concerned expression almost identical to that of the driver’s.
“Hey, Dom.” Dwaine smiled, “You’re looking good today.”
The girl smiled knowingly, whilst the driver shot the boy a look that said ‘Lay one finger on her and I’ll kill you’. Dwaine’s smile became noticeably nervous, and he dropped it, continuing his walk.
“You sure we can’t give you a lift, kid?” the driver offered, “You’re heading to school, aren’t you?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m…I’m fine.” Dwaine said, his voice becoming evermore grouchy and defensive with every word he spoke
The driver of the vehicle shrugged, and continued on his way. Dwaine paid no attention to the vehicle picking up speed. Perhaps the driver was one of those speed-freak types. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was retribution.
Justin was the taller of the two, standing at just over five-foot-eight-inches tall. Unlike Dwaine, the clothing he had chosen to wear that day wasn’t too intimidating – it was a fairly casual striped shirt and jeans. He didn’t care for dressing up for the ‘big day’. His mind was only focused on making somebody, anybody pay for his suffering.
“You got the big boy?” Dwaine asked casually
“In the trunk, friend.” Justin answered, indicating a run-down compact car parked near the doors
“Let’s check it.”
Justin unlocked the trunk of the car. Immediately, Dwaine’s eyes widened considerably at what he was seeing. Justin smirked and produced a powerful-looking Franchi SPAS-12 shotgun from the trunk of the car. Next to it in the trunk was a small case, containing several hundred shells for the weapon.
“Sporting Purpose Automatic Shotgun.” Justin grinned, “Good for hunting animals. Even better for hunting people.”
Justin ran his hand under the foregrip, wondering what setting he should have it on. Either way, with the ability to fire up to four rounds per second from an internal magazine within a range of forty metres, it didn’t really matter. Just as long as it worked as it was supposed to, he was fine.
“Ah.” Dwaine said, putting a hand to his ear, “That’ll be the first busload.”
“Shall we go in?” Justin asked
“As long as you’ve got the slugs.”
“Affirmative.”
“Then let’s go.”
The two opened the rear doors and entered, walking down the corridor towards the main hall.
Reaching the main hall, Dwaine and Justin rushed inside and up onto the stage, slipping behind the thick curtains. In the dim light, Dwaine unzipped his rucksack and pulled out the shotgun. He checked the ammunition inside the barrels and, after deeming them usable, snapped the chamber shut. The rest of the students would be pouring in for the regular morning assembly. All they had to do was wait…
Walking down the corridor towards the assembly hall, Darrel smirked, Jim joining in.
“So, whatta we gonna do to that dweeb today?” Darrel pondered
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jim mused dryly, “Steal his lunch money? Kick the crap out of him? Destroy his work?”
“Nah.” Darrel said, “We’ve done that already. We need something new. But I guess we could still make the kid’s life a living hell using our old tactics. I never tire of them!”
“I wouldn’t go near him today.”
The two turned around.
“We’ll do whatever the hell we want, bitch.” Darrel hissed
“Like…yeah.” Jim said
“Do if it you want.” Domino said warily, “I just have a bad feeling about him.”
“Female intuition is worthless.” Darrel sneered, “I wouldn’t try to stop us anyway.”
The three stayed silent as they followed the crowd into the hall. The hall was full of cheap, uncomfortable plastic chairs aligned to face the stage. Upon entering, the stage itself was to the left of the main entrance door. There were few exits out of the room, barring a fire exit and a door leading into a smaller hall used for Theatre lessons. The students calmly took their seats, totally unaware of the carnage that was about to unfold.
Suddenly, before all of the students had managed to flood in, the hall’s intercom came on, a male voice filling the room. Behind the stage curtains, Dwaine was holding down a button and speaking into a small box mounted on the wall.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” the voice began, “Thank you for coming to the morning assembly.”
In the crowd, one of the students turned to a friend.
“That doesn’t sound like the principal.” he said
“Doesn’t sound like the principal?” Dwaine said, his voice startling the student who’d just made the statement, “Well, I’m not, obviously. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Dwaine.”
A quiet rift of ‘Hi, Dwaine’ and ‘Hey, man’ drifted through the seated crowd.
“Yeah, hi to you too.” Dwaine continued, “If you’re going to ask me why I hijacked the intercom system…it’s not important. What is important is today’s date. It’s historical. June sixth, 2006. Six, six, six.”
There was a brief giggle heard over the system.
“They say it’s the number of the beast. The day the devil would rise out of hell and begin a battle with God, y’know, Judgement Day and all that crap.” Dwaine explained, his voice becoming slowly more menacing, “None of that matters. What does matter is this very important question…how fast can you run for your very lives?”
The crowd was confused by this question, with some students turning the others, laughing at such a query. The joking came to an abrupt halt when two students, one dressed entirely in black, emerged from behind the curtains wielding shotguns and opened fired on the first row. Three people were killed instantly. Immediately people leapt up, attempting to run to the end of the row. A student in front of a small group tripped on a chair leg, causing a chain reaction that sent several people flying to the ground.
Dwaine reloaded, firing at the crowd. Students were now flooding out in all directions, desperate to avoid the hail of bullets. Some students fled through the fire exit, triggering the emergency alarm system. Justin grunted, leaping from the stage and shooting one student in the chest at point-blank range. The student, who had been too afraid to move, slumped back in the seat.
“Those fucks triggered the alarm!” Dwaine sneered, “Everybody’s going to think it’s a drill. And they’ll run!”
“Then let’s just see how many people we can take out before they escape!” Justin grinned
Dwaine jumped from the stage, taking time to reload the shotgun with shells he had in his rucksack. Hearing the metal click into place, he sprinted out of the hall and down the corridor, searching for more students. A redhead girl sprinted up the stairs with a barrage of other teenagers. She lost her footing on a step, flying backwards and rolling dangerously down to the base of the stairs. On her back, she looked up to see two jet-black barrels staring straight back at her.
“PLEASE, NO--!”
A deafening bang filled the stairway as two bullets ploughed through her skull, killing her instantly. Dwaine watched with fascination as a cloud of red dust departed from her forehead, dissipating into the air. He looked up at the terrified students, who resumed their screaming and running. Wasting no time, he sprinted up after them.
Principal John Johnston had been calmly walking down the corridor towards the main hall to give his usual morning speech. His eyes widened when he could’ve sworn he heard gunfire. He had shrugged it off; he’d heard such sounds every day when serving his tours in Vietnam in the Seventies. It was only when panicked students came sprinting down the hall towards him that he reconsidered. Justin rounded a corner after the panicked students, quickly discharging a shotgun shell into the torso of a male student. He screamed in agony before finally quietening after another shell was unloaded just as quickly.
Johnston could only watch in horror and disbelief as another shell was ejected in his direction. The slug made mincemeat of his heart muscles, and he slumped backwards lifeless, falling to the ground and cracking his skull open.
Justin’s eyes scanned the corridor; two more students were already running as fast as their legs could carry them to the nearest door. He fired two shots, both shells imbedding themselves into one’s lower back. The other barely turned around, and completely ignored his fellow pupil’s agonising cries for help as he bolted out of the door.
Feeling the blistering heat of the barrel against his nape, a lone tear ran down his cheek before his head was blown clean off his shoulders. Justin stood back, admiring his work. A pool of crimson began forming at his feet, and he walked away, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.
Meanwhile, Dwaine was taking the stairs two-at-a-time, bounding after whoever got a limb in his crosshairs. He was now on the second floor. Ripping open the door, he found students diving into classrooms further down the hall. He grinned, making his way down the corridor. Reaching the first door on his left, he gripped the door handle, pulling it down. The door creaked open, the sudden sound startling some students. Dwaine walked in slowly. Reaching a cluster of tables, he lodged his foot under it, physically turning it over, revealing a student of Hispanic ethnicity hiding under it.
“Oh, how pathetic.” Dwaine sneered, “I always thought you fuckin’ spics were lazy. You can’t even hide yourself properly!”
The student began talking in rapid, panicked Spanish. Dwaine grunted, aiming his shotgun at the student’s head. He grinned when he saw him praying.
“Don’t you read the news, buddy?” he grunted, “Prayers don’t work.”
Dwaine laid his gun on the adjoining table, punching the student in the face before wrapping his arm around his neck and violently twisting it to the right. It snapped with a sickening crack. Dwaine spun around as he saw a female student come out of hiding and attempt to grab his gun. He kicked her to the ground, brutally stamping on her hand several times before grabbing his shotgun and unloading two shells into her face.
Dwaine looked around, checking the room was clear. After concluding that there was nobody left to kill, he walked out of the room, heading down the corridor. At the next door down, he kicked it open, revealing a timid-looking and frightened student; torn sleeves and torn jeans with a shaved head. His grin shrunk immediately. The horrified student backed further into the room, his eyes darting around in search of a non-existent second exit.
“Hey, Jim.” Dwaine growled, “Glad to see me?”
“D-D-D-D-Don’t shoot me, man!” Jim stuttered, shaking, “Just…don’t shoot me!”
“Give me one good reason.”
“It was all Darrel’s doing, man!” Jim protested, feigning innocence, “I just tagged along! I was just a pawn!”
“You honestly expect me to believe that crap?”
Jim’s hands began to fumble around, searching for something to throw. His hand gripped the edge of a craft knife. Dwaine saw him, and discharged the gun, blowing a hole through Jim’s hand before he even had a firm grip on the would-be weapon. Jim clutched his repulsively disfigured digits, screaming in agony. Dwaine run at him, landing a kick that sent Jim flying through the open window behind him and down onto the hood of a teacher’s car with a violent bone-shattering crack. Looking out of the window, Dwaine admired his work. Jim’s body, the lifeless open eyes filled with shock and unimaginable terror; a look he’d always wanted to see on his face, even if it was in death.
Walking down the hall, he saw the girls’ toilets on his left. Were there people in here? If they were all fleeing, he didn’t need to be a genius. Opening the door, he walked inside, looking in all directions for new targets. He inspected the five stalls one by one. Open-open-open-open…closed. Lightly kicking the suspect door with his foot, his ears pricked up when he heard a barely audible whimper. He spontaneously kicked the booth door open, revealing a meek girl crouched down and trembling.
He saw the uncountable tears streaming for her eyes, a look that pleaded for him not to shoot. Very briefly, he raised his shotgun very slightly upwards, as if not wanting to kill the girl. He then casually shrugged before realigning the weapon with her forehead and pulling the trigger. Near point-blank range, the bullet ploughed into the girl’s skull, the pressure causing blood and brain matter to make its presence known around the cramped booth. Slightly repulsed by the sight, Justin slung his rucksack from his shoulder and quickly reloaded the weapon before heading back out.
‘SATAN-WORSHIPPING GOTH DROPOUT SHOOTS UP SCHOOL’
‘VIOLENT GAMES DRIVE LONER OVER THE EDGE’
‘TOP LAWYER SAYS: BLAME RACIST ROCK MUSIC’
‘TOP PSYCHOLOGIST: BAN THE HORRIFIC MURDER SIMULATORS’
He could think of a dozen other even more ridiculous headlines, but as he opened the door, his mind focused on only one thing. Looking at the line of computers to his left, right and centre, his eyes trailed to under the wall-fastened tables they laid on. There were at least a dozen of them, fear evident in their eyes. Some were praying, others kissing their crucifix necklaces, others just trembling and hoping it would pass.
Seeing the blackened barrels of the gun just feet awake from her, one girl squeaked in fear. The blonde’s head dropping down under the table to make eye contact startled her, causing her to bang her head against the table. Clutching her head, she looked away from him.
“Look at me.” he said, his words chilling, “Look…at…me.”
The girl reluctantly made eye contact, staring straight into his steel blue eyes. His mouth moved, posing a deliberate question.
“Do you believe in God?”
The girl’s lips trembled as she answered.
“I’m….n-n-not…s-s-s-sure.” came the reply, tears streaming down her face
“Oh.” Dwaine said casually, merely shrugging, “All right then.”
With a staggering and alarming bang, two bullets ripped through the heart of another girl, her eyes shooting open in shock, her hands still held together in prayer. Students scrambled out of their hiding places, screaming. Dwaine screamed angrily, his voice striking fear into the hardest of them.
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!” he bellowed, taking several deep breaths
The students obeyed, getting on their knees or sitting down. Without warning, one male student rushed up to Dwaine, delivering a kick to the groin. He reeled backwards in pain as the student ripped the weapon from him and pointed it at his head.
“You’re not killing anybody else!” the rogue student ordered, aiming the gun firmly at his head. His movements were shaky, but the weapon was pointing the general region of his skull.
Dwaine looked up at the male, his hands clutching his groin.
“If you killed me…” he said, “how would that make you any better than myself? You’d just be killing for killing’s sake.”
The words impacted on the student, the powerful reversal making him question his actions. He lowered the gun slightly, but still was intent on shooting to kill. Dwaine grinned, his eyes fixed on the gun.
“Even if you wanted to shoot me…” he said, “How are you going to?”
The student’s eyes widened at this, pondering what he meant. Dwaine delivered the final blow, throwing the student’s plan to the dogs.
“The joke’s on you. There are no shells in that gun.” Dwaine smirked, just as a shotgun blast mercilessly attacked his ears. He ducked, seeing the rogue student’s brain matter explode outwards from his skull. Grey oozed from his skull cavity and slimy grey matter hit the floor. The student’s body fell backwards, landing on the floor. Everybody went silent, some vomiting at the sight. Slowly and cautiously, Dwaine turned around…
…To see Justin standing there, the SPAS-12 still aimed firmly at where the student’s head had just been. The look in his eyes was one of murderous rage; nobody turned the tables on his friend, not today, not ever. Dwaine let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Justin replied coldly, “Let’s go.”
“What about the--”
“What’s a crime without a fair share of witnesses?” Dwaine said
Justin nodded, Dwaine unzipping his rucksack and removing two shells before slotting them into the barrels of his gun. Snapping the barrel shut, he took his bag and left the room, ready to take out anybody of their choosing. Once they were out of earshot, one girl slipped her hand into her rucksack, and pulled out her mobile phone. Trembling, she dialled three distinct numbers.
“Nine-one-one, how can I help you?” came the operator’s voice on the other end
“P-P-Police.”
“Uh-huh…what’s your name?”
“Jen.”
“Alright, Jen, where are you?”
“At my school…”
“Has a student collapsed from medical condition? If so, you need the ambulance service.”
“No – there are a couple of guys – they’ve…got guns.”
The operator’s eyes widened as she continued, “Are their weapons loaded? Is it a hoax?”
“THEY’VE SHOT AND KILLED PEOPLE!”
“Oh my god…I’ll get somebody over there right away.” The operator gasped, cutting off the call and going to the dispatch radio. “Calling all squad cars in the Miami metropolitan area! We’ve got a couple of kids going Columbine, we need armed officers at that school right now!”
“Whoa, whoa.” He laughed, “Slow down a little, pal. What’s going on, why are you all rushing out like headless chickens?”
“There’s-” the officer began
“Bup-bup-bup…” the man cut in, wagging his finger, “Let me guess…half price sale at the doughnut shop, right?” he said, his voice becoming more nonchalant as he finished with a laugh
“I’m warning you, Jo-”
Another interruption, “Would you watch the jacket?” the man said, sounding irritated as he brushed down his brown leather jacket with his spare hand, “Y’know…it’s – it’s an expensive jacket, it cost me a lot. So if you wouldn’t mind being a little more careful around me next time. But in all seriousness…what’s so important if you hit me on the way out?”
The officer tugged at his arm, still in the other man’s murderous grip, “Dispatch says there’s a couple of kids going crazy at a school! Now for god’s sake, let me get over there!”
The grip on the officer’s arm tightened, the man’s eyes narrowing instantly, his teeth gritted, “What school?!” he demanded, his voice raising after no answer, “WHAT SCHOOL?”
“Dispatch didn’t say much, uh, say, isn’t it the same place your kid goes?!”
A loud grunt, and the officer had to stabilise himself as the grip left his arm in a split second. The jacketed man leapt into his jeep and revved the engine, scorching the rear tyres with a U-turn. The bewildered officer wheezed, “You’re crazy, Jones!”
Ripping open the door of his own vehicle and sitting behind the wheel, he watched for a brief moment as the speeding jeep disappeared from view. He sighed. “Godspeed.” He whispered, starting the engine and pulling out, sirens wailing.
His ears pricked up – he could’ve sworn he heard sirens. Yes…it had it to be them. At least somebody had had the guts to call the cops. He silently got up from the ground, grinning for numerous reasons. The authorities would soon be here, most likely with orders to shoot to kill – good riddance. At least he’d be rid of the nuisance he liked to bully. And it was a large school…there was always some other nerd to beat up at lunchtime around here. Embedding his fist into somebody’s nose would be good therapy after something like this…
She’d always heard that revenge was a dish supposedly best served cold – here, it was being served from the scalding-hot barrels of a shotgun. Months of frustration, years of untold abuse…had exploded in its most detrimental form. The consequences of her actions, of the actions of those around her, were clear for all to see – mindless bloodshed.
The sound of wailing sirens gave her hope. It gave her comfort amidst the distant agonised screams and moans of the crippled, of those at death’s door, and of those who hadn’t been finished off – traces of the old empathy Dwaine once had. Perhaps, somewhere inside, he was regretting what he was doing – he was blinded by hatred, by a craving to blame everyone and everything for the thoughtless actions of a couple of kids. Maybe…just maybe that was the case. She didn’t feel the need to pray – it was an absurd notion, asking something that may well not exist for any form of help. She wasn’t going to entrust some “God” with her life. She’d have felt safer entrusting it to—
“I hope that’s just sweaty balls…” the man grinned looking at him. The petrified officer slowly looked down to his trousers, which were, sure enough, wet through. “Please tell me you did not just hose your pants…”
“JOSHUA JONES!” came the roar of the police chief. The blond officer turned to his superior, who was furiously storming over to him. His short, plump form was eye-to-eye with Jones in no time, his handlebar moustache trembling and his nasal hairs blowing outwards from the enraged breaths. Controlling himself, he said; “You’re not setting a foot near that building until the ambulance crews get here! Do you understand?!”
“You’re not stopping me.”
The words were as blunt as Jones’ feet purposefully striding towards the main building, shoving past the chief.
“DO YOU COMPREHEND THE SITUATION?” the chief roared, his small frame shaking, “YOU CANNOT PASS!”
“Do you want another concussion?” Jones asked, his voice rising, his pace increasing as he neared the set of stairs. He ignored the chief’s yells for him to stop, raising his revolver and gripping the door with his free hand, ripping it open and slipping inside.
He looks around him – corridors leading left, right and forward, all separated by double-doors. He took a random guess, heading straight ahead. Silently pulling the door open, he slipped into the hallway, gun by his side. He saw rows of doors adjacent to each other lining the corridor, some open, others closed. The hall was as silent as the grave – and probably with good reason. He steadily made his way towards the first open door, peering into it. He gripped his throat, growling in disgust; four bodies lay scattered around the room, blood sprayed against the foremost wall. Nobody was likely to be alive. He backed away, edging down the hall. The blood slipping down the wall had been fresh; whoever had done it, they couldn’t have gotten far.
He passed a closed door. No sooner had he heard a slight creak that had he spun around, gun aimed firmly at the source of the sound; it was only his rapid response that kept him from pulling the trigger and adding to the already high body count. A short girl shook uncontrollably, petrified. Josh lowered the revolver, eyeing her.
“I’m one of the good guys,” he said, gesturing towards the end of the hall with his gun, “Get out of here quick. Don’t bother looking for anybody – you’ll be wasting your time, they’re probably all ventilated. Just go…go!”
The girl, terrified, backed away slowly before sprinting down the hall. Josh decided against searching the other rooms; like he said, he’d be wasting time. He turned, sprinting down the hallway. He stopped when he heard the tank-like boom of a shotgun on the floor above him. He began sprinting for the stairs up ahead, grabbing the rail and taking the steps two at a time. He hugged the wall behind the open doors, seeing a boy holding a shotgun just a few metres ahead of him. In front of the boy lay the body of a brunette girl who’d just felt the full force of a point-blank shot to the torso. Blood was running along the grooves in the carpet, a small puddle of scarlet stopping at the boy’s feet. He could take him by surprise – one shot to the head from behind and that’d be one less threat to take care of. Clutching the revolver, he spun round, aiming firmly at the boy’s skull.
“Surprise, motherfu--”
He didn’t even have time to finish – the agonising pain in his upper thigh sent him reeling. He screamed in agony, clutching his bloodied jeans with his free hand. He lost his grip when the butt of the shotgun slammed into his jaw, sending him flying to the ground. The revolver bounced down the stairs, well out of reach. The boy kicked him in the ribs whilst shouting a string of profanities. There was no chance of him being able to defend himself from this assault – it wasn’t the first time in his life he’d been caught off guard.
Justin grinned, readying his shotgun when his feet became entangled with that of the would-be hero he had just been kicking. He tripped, falling onto his back as the cop in front of him slowly got back up. He was clutching his leg, clearly in excruciating pain. He turned away from him, making his way to the stairs. Justin regained his footing, running up to the limping officer and kicking him in the back of the knee. The officer went flying down the stairs, his head slamming against the railing. He barely raised his head before he collapsed, the blow knocking him unconscious.
Justin picked up the gun, aiming it firmly at the unconscious officer’s head. A split second from pulling the trigger, a large blow to back of the head stopped him. A tall man, clearly a teacher judging by his shirt and tie, lowered the electric guitar in his hands. He leapt down the stairs, kneeling by Josh’s body. He eyed the revolver, picking it up.
“Who the hell are you meant to be?” he said, putting the gun down and running down the stairs and down the hall, ignoring the moans of the dying as he sprinted towards the doors, desperate to get out
Dwaine entered the room, peering at the shoddy computers. He’d checked every room in the corridor so far; he’d emptied a few shells along the way, a couple into teachers, a couple into cowering girls; if they paid for their mistakes, he was happy. He was slightly discontented that he’d lost track of how many he’d injured and killed – it didn’t matter to him, though. If this was going to get him the recognition he so deserved, he was fine with it.
He looked down to the spaces under the outdated systems – two pairs of feet. More people who would regret not doing anything to get him out of the hell he so desperately wanted to escape. He walked over to them, his pace threateningly slow. He stopped just short of the first pair of shoes, crouching to see who it was. He had a mild shock, but his gun still stopped just centimetres from her head, ready to discharge its lethal contents at any second if he so desired.
“Domino?”
“Yes…?”
“I…I…just get the hell out from under there.”
She obeyed, slowly getting to her feet, frozen by fear. Dwaine grinned, pressing the searing barrels against her head. She tensed up, biting her lip in an attempt to ignore the pain.
“You…don’t…have…to…do…this.” She pleaded, struggling to get the words out, “This…isn’t…you! It never…was! Why are you doing this Dwaine?! I’m asking you now to stop! The cops out are probably going to storm in here any minute. Dwaine. Listen to me! I…can…help…you! Just…take a minute to…”
Blood was now seeping from chin, her teeth biting firmly into her lip. The blow to the head sent her onto her back. The girl under the table watched horrified as Dwaine aimed the gun firmly where he wanted it, and pulled the trigger…
Joshua propped himself up on the hospital bed, fluffing his pillow and calmly watching the report, trying to drown out what little commotion there was on the ward. To his left sat Tim, on the right sat Domino, a small plaster under her bloodied lip.
“If I was in there…I would’ve stopped you.” Tim said, his voice becoming firm, “It was blind luck that that teacher came along and hit that crazed boy! Another second and you’d be on the list of the dead!”
“I knew what I was doing.” Josh snapped, “I was acting professionally.”
“Well if you think that spending a split second cranking out a cheesy line straight out of Hollywood instead of pulling the trigger is acting professionally, you need a head-check.”
“I play by my own rules, Tim.” Josh grunted, “And now…TV.”
“…Initial reports are saying that one of the shooters was found unconscious in a stairwell, and that the second shooter had killed himself. Police officials at the scene are debating why the shooter decided to end his own life – and why his accomplice didn’t do the same. The surviving shooter, and possible mastermind, who we are told cannot be identified for legal reasons, is currently in police custody…”
“You got in over your head!” Tim growled, “You should’ve never gone in there! You could’ve easily been killed!”
“Just…shut up and watch the news story.” Josh sighed, turning to Domino, “”You had one hell of a thirteenth, eh?”
A solemn nod was the only response he got. Josh eyed the member of staff walking down the ward.
“Hey, doc!” he called out, the man eyeing him through thick glasses.
“Yes, Mr Jones?”
“What’s going on with my leg?”
“It was very badly damaged by the shell. The staff that gave you the scan tell me that it’ll take weeks…months to heal properly.”
“I thought it was just superficial?”
“We’re afraid not. Time will tell. I have other patients to tend to, I’m sure you’ll understand. Goodbye.”
Joshua sighed deeply, turning back to his daughter.
“Hey, look…I promise you I’ll think of something to make up for this. Any suggestions?”
“Disneyland!”
“You wish!” he laughed, Tim joining in
“I’ll tell you what’s better than any of the rides at Disneyland!” Tim jested, “The hurricane that’s headed our way! There’s a thrill for ya!”
Both men laughed heartily, Tim stopping first.
“All right, Jay, I’m out of here.” He smiled, “And is the birthday girl coming with me?”
“Hey, Dom, you wanna go home?”
Another nod. Tim got up, walking over to her. Getting to her feet, she walked down the ward towards the door with Tim. Josh followed them with his eyes until they were out of sight. He waved meekly, a faint ‘bye’ barely audible. Sighing heavily, he mentally resigned himself to a future of filling out paperwork at the station…at least until he was fully healed…
