Julie pushed against the edge of her desk and leaned back in her seat, cracking her back several times. She let out a sigh and relaxed, setting her chin on her books. This class wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so boring.
Uncomfortable, she sat back up and surveyed the rest of the class. The other juniors were not much more alive. Seven other students had their heads on their desks, journeying to dream land and back before their teacher finished his lesson. Everyone else was zoning out, reading, doodling, or finishing up their homework that should've been done yesterday. Only a few were actually paying attention.
Julie sighed again and rested her chin in her hand, then shifted her elbow so it wasn't on the corner of her folder. In her opinion, this class was full of good material. It was just, well, extremely boring to the average student. Her parents had put her in this tiny Christian school since the day she could walk, hoping she would be spared the junk of the world. Her mom certainly had an amazing testimony, but she wanted to spare her daughter from that life.
"Apathy is an 'I don't care' attitude," her teacher was saying. Mr. Ren was the resident Bible teacher, chaplain, and assistant principal at Lakeview Christian North. "And apathy is what sometimes kills the church. When we begin to not care, we start living for ourselves and not for God." Mr. Ren read a sentence from the floppy-covered Bible again, then looked up at his class. "I know we go to a small school. I know we're all supposed to be Christians. But even in a Christian school we have apathy. Now look at this verse. You have to be either hot or cold; there is no middle. You've gotta chose whose side you're on, and choose now, don't wait! You don't know if you'll have later. So choose now."
"Well said, preacher," a stranger's voice said.
Julie saw Mr. Ren pale as he looked toward the door. She and some other students followed his gaze. The sleeping students awoke and sat up, and within moments every head in the room was locked in one direction, frozen, barely daring to breathe.
A man stood there, tall, dressed in black, with a black face mask covering his entire head save his eyes. He had a black gun in his hand.
He slowly waved the gun over the room, ensuring that every student saw the end of the deadly barrel.
"Get up."
At first, no one moved. Then, after a moment, one, then another student stood. Then another, then… the whole class slowly moved to their feet, as if their world had suddenly shifted into a virtual, surreal reality.
The man pointed his gun at Whitney, a short girl with thin, shoulder-length brown hair. "Drop your purse."
She obeyed. The few other girls who had grabbed their purses dropped them.
Julie inwardly cringed. She'd sat behind Whitney so many classes when she had set her purse on her lap and sent text messages on her cell phone from inside the purse. No doubt that's what Whitney was thinking when she had picked it up. This guy was smart.
"Hands up." Twenty-seven pairs of hands were raised. "Anyone who lowers their hands or talks will get a bullet." He paused for a long moment, letting his words sink in. "To the library. Move."
As if the world had shifted into slow-motion, all twenty-seven juniors moved toward the door. As they headed through the rest of the deserted wing, it became apparent that they were not the only victims. Two other classes were already gone. As they entered the hallway, the hall before them was silent. The half behind them still echoed with chatter. The gunman was working his way back.
Silently, hands in the air, the students and their teacher marched toward the library, wondering if this was a death march.
They were herded into the library, where they met a group of sixty more high school students, all sitting on the floor. Another gunman stood before them, shorter than the other, arms crossed with gun in hand.
"Take your cell phones and drop them here." He motioned with the gun to the floor before his feet.
For the first time Julie noticed the mound of cell phones by his feet. These guys were definitely smart.
One by one, more than half of the juniors dropped their cell phones onto the pile, fearfully eying the man with the gun. Julie looked back to the library entrance; their other gunman was gone, no doubt rounding up the next group of students.
"You! Drop your cell phone!"
Julie turned around, expecting the man to be barking at another student. But he was barking at her.
"I don't have one."
"Come here."
She obeyed.
His eyes ran her over, and he patted her pockets roughly. Then he shoved her toward her classmates. He did the same with some other girls and guys from her class who had not dropped a phone on the pile.
"Sit down," he finally growled.
The juniors sat.
"I'll tell you what I told them," he said. He pointed the gun at the group. "If anyone's phone rings, it will go unanswered. If somehow you call anyone without us noticing and cops show up at the door, we will kill all of you."
The sound of their gasps, as quiet as they tried to make them, filled the room.
"Until my friend brings in the rest, stay silent and don't move."
Julie couldn't believe this was happening. How had they gotten into their school? Too easily, she realized ruefully. Her school was a small private school; they did not have enough money flowing in to pay for high-tech security systems like the public schools did.
As she waited for the other classes to come in, she wondered what the gunmen would do. This might be another Columbine, only worse. These men had no qualms about killing all of them. The thought made a shudder run through her body.
She couldn't help but think about how ironic this was. Her parents had put her in this school to keep her safe from the nutcases in the world. Yet this was where the nutcases found her.
The sound of rustling clothes met her ears, but she caught herself from turning to look. In a minute the sophomore class was herded in, all twenty-five of them, and they went through the same routine the three classes before them had gone through, including surrendering their cell phones. Finally they all sat down.
The tall one left and came back several more times, each time bringing in a person on the staff, a straggler in the teacher's lounge, and finally, the principal, Mr. Dave Zachary. He arrived appearing tight and very concerned. He was made to stand in the back along with the rest of the staff, given a perfect vantage point to witness a probable massacre in their small private school library.
"You claim to be Christians."
The short man's disgusted voice echoed off the walls and drove knives into the hearts of every student and teacher in the room.
"If you truly love this… this 'God' that you say saved you, then stand up. I take great pleasure in ridding the world of people like you."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
"Stand up!" he screamed. "Do you not love your God enough to take a bullet? Stand up!"
Another long moment passed.
Nothing.
He scoffed. "You hypocrites! You say you love God, but if you aren't willing to take a bullet for Him, then you obviously don't. You're all a bunch of liars."
"Not all of us," a student piped up.
Julie's eyes shot toward the girl who stood, and anxiety swelled like a bomb in her stomach. She was in her class, a junior. Kristina. "If you let the rest of these students go, I'll take the bullet."
Julie couldn't believe what she'd just heard.
Neither could the gunman. He cocked an eyebrow and turned his deadly aim at her. "Why?"
She paused. "Not everyone in this room has found life in Christ like I have, life that you can't take away by shooting me. So take my life, and give them a chance to find theirs."
"They've had their chance!" The gunman snapped, and the girl flinched. "They've had their whole lives. Time's up." He turned his glare to the rest of the room. "Now, anyone else want to join this girl in their death wish?"
Julie didn't know. She had never taken this whole faith thing seriously. Her parents had wanted her to, and her teachers had, but she never did.
Part of her wanted to stand. She wanted to have something to die for. What did she have? What would she actually die for? Her family, for sure. Her parents, Valerie and Ryan. Some friends. But… not her God. She didn't have one.
She looked around as more students stood up. Several freshmen had stood. And sophomores. Some of her classmates had stood as well. A few seniors.
God, I've never believed in you, not really. But I don't get it. These people are willing to die for you?
Julie gasped as the thought hit her like breakers on rock. What He's done is really that amazing. Moisture gathered in her eyes. Amazing enough and loving enough to die for.
She looked around and shook her head. They've found that. I want to find that too.
She took a deep, quaking breath. God, help me.
She got her feet under her and stood.
In the next pulse-pounding minute, half of the students still sitting stood, so that only a handful of students were on the ground.
The gunman looked around the room with a hard, indecipherable gaze. Then he walked up to a senior and put the barrel to his chest. "You would be willing to take a bullet?"
The senior took a steadying breath, then answered, "Yes."
The gunman stared at him for a long moment, then swung the gun and caught the young man in the stomach. As the senior doubled over, he fired.
The thunderclap exploded in the room, and the entire student body recoiled. White powder drifted down from the bullet hole in the ceiling.
Before anyone recovered, the gunman whirled and shoved the barrel into the forehead of another senior girl. "Would you take a bullet?" he shouted.
The girl whimpered and faltered for a moment, and even from across the room Julie could see a tear trickle down her cheek. Finally, her trembling lips uttered, "Yes."
Without a word, the gunman smacked his gun into the side of her head, sending her to the ground. Another student instantly knelt beside her, and she moaned.
He stalked away from her, eyes scanning the room like a hawk. He stormed across the room and suddenly stopped right in front of Julie. Julie found herself staring at the end of the deadly gun.
"Would you?"
Julie's heart was pounding so hard, it threatened to break her rib cage. She swallowed hard, but her throat had gone dry. After a long moment, she nodded.
Fire smoldering in his eyes, he took the gun and brought the butt down on top of her head.
The world went black, and she found herself lying on the carpet. She opened her eyes. Rachel, another junior in her class, was holding up her head. She sat up slowly, her head swimming. The gunman was screaming about something.
"If you aren't willing to take a bullet, then you are a hypocrite! A hypocrite!" He paced back and forth in front of the group like a hungry tiger. "Mr. Zachary! Come here."
Mr. Zachary began to weave his way through the mass of students toward the man with the gun.
"And you other teachers. Come here!"
The others followed.
"You should receive the first bullets. After all, you are Christians, and you taught these kids to follow that faith. Are you ready?"
A brief silence enveloped the room. Then…
"Yes," said Mr. Zachary.
"Yes," said Mr. Ren.
"Yes," said the rest of the teachers and staff.
The gunman surveyed the room at the standing students. After a long beat he turned to Mr. Zachary.
"Good. You get the picture." He sighed through his nose. "You have a good group of kids, principal. Keep it up."
He turned back to the students and said, "If you don't have anything worth dying for, you've got nothing worth living for. Most of you have discovered that Jesus is worth dying and living for."
He started to walk out, but stopped halfway through the cluster of students. He turned to the few select students and said, "Sorry I hit you. I had to be convincing."
Without another word, he walked through the group of standing students and out of the library with his partner. Julie breathed deep as she silently thanked God for their safety. She looked around at the group of stunned students. They would never be the same.
Now then. Be honest. What would you have done?