After Anders says that I hear shuffling in the hallway. Boots clicking. Soldiers running.
The girl soldier is working on my bag. Removing object, then object, then object. She removes my copy of Of Human Bondage. Flips open the cover with tongs. Like she’s excavating a fossil—no rush. Satisfied with the book, she moves it aside. She extracts another tac-mine from my bookbag. She says. “That’s lovely.”
I remember now. I put those there.
Anders says. “We’re fucked.”
I guess some part of me knew that those were there. But some other part of me didn’t.
Spencer is in a trance or shock or something. He’s like a statue.
Anders lowers his weapon. In a tac-mine situation there’s no use pointing a gun at the guy. Anders to me. “Did you find any other pieces?”
“In the photo lab. It’s downstairs.”
More soldiers in the hallway running.
Spencer pantomimes a little spitting motion toward me. Or a little kiss. He says deadpan. “You should probably.”—“Get.”—“Everyone out of the school.”—“Or send your bomb dogs around.”—“To.”—“Disarm it.”
Anders rolls his eyes at me. He sees. He sees! This is what I have to put up with every day.
A soldier shoves a laminated diagram in my face. “Point to the photo lab.”
I point to it.
“Are there any other pieces like this?”
Only the ones in your locker. I shake my head.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
Anders says. “There might be another detonator. We’re missing five.”
On the floor, three flat-faced balls at Anders’ feet. The girl soldier and I are looking at each other. The fingers of Spencer’s left hand are squeezed tight around the detonator.
The girl soldier says. “He may have mined the room. Possibly lockers.” She addresses me, she addresses Jenna and the kids behind the desks. “Does he have friends who might know about this?” Then to Anders. “Hallways, parking lot, cars, homes in the neighborhood. How in the fuck did he get ahold of this shit?”
She pulls another flat-faced ball out of my bag.
Anders talks to the girl soldier. “Should we clear the room?”
“No. Who knows. Tactically it doesn’t really matter.” She points to Jenna and the other kids. “One of them might have a det, pieces. Do any of you have one of these detonators? If you have it just show it now. You won’t get in trouble.”
“This is.”—“The only one.” Spencer says.
The woman soldier speaks to him. “That’s fine. You’re doing great. Anything you want we’re gonna get you. You want a news camera? Get you whatever you want. You want to talk to me?”
Blank stare from Spencer. And maybe the edge of a tear.
Jenna pleads. “Spencer!”
Spencer shouts. “Jenna shut up!”
Anders is rubbing his face in his hands. “Unlike my friend here, I don’t negotiate. Ok Spencer? Mainly I shoot people.” Anders steps forward, putting his gun in Spencer’s face.
Jenna says. “Don’t mess around Spencer.”
Spencer says. “If you’d like to go, go.”
Anders says. “What if I don’t want her to go?”
Spencer says. “I don’t mind if she walks away.”
The woman soldier is by Anders’ side. She holds her gun up at chest level. “Give Jenna the detonator. You can have my weapon. Come’ere Jenna. Come on up here. Give Jenna the detonator. Let her walk it out of here. You can have my weapon. You can do anything you want with it. Shoot me. I promise. You can shoot me.”
Spencer jiggles the detonator.
Anders steps right up on him. “Maybe I don’t care.” Anders says. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s gonna let Spencer explode him and this entire room of people. Anders presses his gun into Spencer’s cheek. “Maybe I want to shoot you anyway. For fun.”
The woman speaks. “You want to talk to Jenna?”
Jenna takes a few steps toward the front of the room.
Anders says. “I’m gonna let you go in the next room with her.” He’s got sweat on his forehead. We’re probably gonna die.
“Time’s.”—“Up.” Spencer says.
Anders flips off his safety. “That may be. That may be.”
The woman pleads. “What do you want?”
“You want that girl?”
“Come on up here Jenna. Come on.”
“Come’ere Jenna.”
“We’re gonna let you go in the next room with her.”
“Come’ere Jenna.”
Jenna says. “Spencer, you can talk to me.”
A soldier pushes past me. He knocks over the trashcan. My crumpled stockings and Jenna’s panties spill out onto the floor. Jenna glances over but there’s no recognition. She sees them, but there’s no way she knows those are hers. The guy next to me raises his rifle. His hands are tense. I try to step back but there’s another guy behind me and I can’t go anywhere. From the way the guy in front of me is, it looks like he can get Spencer with one shot.
The woman soldier lets Jenna step up next to the teacher’s desk.
I see a light coming from the hallway. There’s a camera crew.
“Wanna talk to the news? Wanna say something?”
Spencer shakes his head.
Anders makes a motion with his arm. They turn off the light, but the camera is still pointed right at us, shooting right past me into the classroom. Anders laughs. I don’t think Anders gives a fuck. I think he thinks we’re dead anyway. “Spencer, do you mind if I take Jenna in the next room? If you’re not gonna.”
Spencer’s eyes twinkle. “Do you like her?”
Anders. “I could learn to.” Is he just fucking around? This must be some special training he went through, that teaches you how to talk with people in situations like this.
Spencer smiles.
Jenna has a blank look on her face.
Steel-reinforced plastic windows. A grid of steel webbing between two sheets of unbreakable plastic. Room full of twenty kids, Spencer, Jenna, Anders, this woman, shooters, me. The news behind us. Soldiers in the hall.
“Get those cameras out of here.” That’s Anders.
“Roger that.” From the hall.
Jenna puts her hand on Spencer’s knee. “Hey. Hey. Talk to me.”
Jenna takes a half step toward Spencer and in the instant of Spencer’s reflex to look at her Anders is on them, on Spencer and Jenna in a bear-grab, arms around them both and pulls the detonator in tight to Spencer’s chest, over Anders’ chest, he’s got his hands on Spencer pushing in around the detonator weaseling his hands over the detonator Jenna’s arm is stuck in their grips somewhere the three of them are like a half octopus flailing, Anders rips them on the ground Spencer’s arm folding the wrong way at the elbow and the woman soldier and the other soldier are tagging them, tagging all three of them with the tips of their guns, stepping forward Anders looks at the woman soldier, he’s nodding like we’re ok, I think he’s nodding and a soldier from behind me goes for flat ball number one he’s reaching around between people’s legs got flat ball number one in his hand he’s back back back he’s at the door at the hallway throws flat ball number one into the hallway, the woman tagging the octopus she’s got Anders at the tip and Anders is yelling “clear” over kids’ screams kids are running back pushing against the wall. Two of them holding hands rush the door. “Don’t move! Don’t move!” yelling at them pushing in that soldier’s got flat ball number two in his motherfucking hand and I’m sure Spencer’s arm is broke he’s wailing and Anders is hugging the detonator and one half of each of Spencer and Jenna like crushing your teddy bear he’s smiling at the woman soldier it looks like “We’re ok, buddy!” and flat ball number two is in the hallway back back back there’s two soldiers tagging Spencer-Anders-Jenna-Anders-Spencer they can take him out and probably not kill anyone else just incapacitate the motherfucker they’re on it stepping in in in in gun-tip in Spencer’s motherfucking face press against his skin squirm and I’m back on ya motherfucker I’ll pop your face so fast you fucking punk! Anders is screaming at the woman and Spencer at the same time “Is that the last one? Off him! Get off him! Spencer is that the last one you wanna get shot in the face!!? What? What? If there’s more you tell me or I’ll pull your motherfucking head off!” Spencer’s arm is broken just from Anders squeezing him on the detonator. Got his left hand on Spencer’s left hand I think. “Tear your motherfucking head off!!” The woman shouts. “That’s all!” And from the hallway. “Five cleared.” Anders is squirming with Spencer. “Tear your motherfucking head off.” The woman shouting. “That’s all!” “Nobody’s gonna die in this room!” Anders. “I ain’t letting go of you until I get pried off you with a fork-lift! This thing ain’t goin’ off. Is the hall clear?”
“Fifty-feet! Seventy-five! Clear now!”
Kids are trying to run out of the room.
Soldiers tag them. “Stay there! Don’t move! Back against the wall!”
Anders is crushing Spencer and half of Jenna and the detonator. Kids on the side of the room are moving every time the Anders-Spencer-Jenna thing moves. Some kids are actually crying. Crying real quiet, like if you were crying in church.
Anders is licking his lips like you do when you concentrate. He’s holding in Spencer and the detonator with all his might.
The woman soldier yells. “Spencer! How many did you set?”
Spencer shakes his head.
“Listen to me Spencer. I’m gonna shoot you in a minute. How many did you set?”
He shakes his head with Anders crushing him. Jenna’s wailing.
She’s got him tagged. On the hair. She steps in, it’s one shot.
“Three.” Spencer manages.
But she shoots him anyway.
Clack. Clack.
Spencer’s head springs forward.
Jenna stops screaming.
For a beat there’s no sound at all in the room.
Jenna looks surprised.
The woman soldier is swinging around, pointing her gun everywhere. Anyone moves I’ll shoot them. You can see it in her eyes. “You got it? Are we clear?”
Anders is struggling with the body trying not to let its weight unsettle the detonator.
Jenna is looking at Spencer with a strange frown. She touches her chest.
The woman. “Are we clear?”
“No.” Anders. “No!”
“Let us out of here!” Kristen says.
The woman screams at her. “There’s a bomb in the hall! You can’t go out. Did he set any more?”
“I didn’t see him set any!”
“It might be somewhere else.”
“Are we clear?”
“No!” Anders yells at Jenna. “Don’t move your arm! Don’t move your arm!”
The woman waves her gun at Kristen and them. “Get away from that closet. Get by the windows.”
Jenna looks confused. The she recognizes the sensation as pain.
Anders still has her arm. He’s trying to hold onto the detonator. “Jenna. Listen to me.” He speaks gently, like Mr. Rogers. “Stay still, ok? Stay still.”
The woman soldier orders Kristen and the rest of the class. “Get by the windows. Sit down.” The windows are just a tiny slit at the top of the wall. “Face the wall. Put your head down. Did you see where he put the other one?”
“We didn’t see him.”
“He came in here like that.”
“It may be somewhere else in the building. Are we clear?”
“I think so.” Then to Jenna. “Don’t move, ok? Just leave your arm where it is.” She’s looking at Spencer, who is limp and soaking her and Anders with blood. “Jenna. Jenna. Look at me.”
“Anders, she’s shot. Are we clear?”
“I think so. Pretty sure. Why don’t you take your arm out of there. Go ahead.”
“Just pull your arm out slowly, just move slowly.” The woman lowers her gun and guides Jenna’s arm. “Pull.”
She does.
Kristen is shaking.
The woman is holding Jenna’s arm like it’s a snake.
Jenna’s knees are falling.
The woman puts her arms around Jenna and lowers her to the floor. “She’s shot! Medical help in here!” Kristen and some of the kids grab Jenna and pull her over by the windows. Jenna’s not moving. “Tell her to breathe.” The woman soldier goes to Anders. The kids rub Jenna’s back, touch her head, pull her in close to them.
Anders is a ball containing a ball, squeezed as tight around the detonator and parts of Spencer as he can. “I’m holding it with my gut.” Anders’ back is slick with blood. “Got part of it with my gut. Can’t get it all with my hands.”
“I’m gonna grab your mic.”
“Go.”
She kneels beside him and gently unclips the mic from his shoulder strap.
Anders has Spencer’s limp arm in his face.
The woman clicks the switch on the mic. “Shots fired. We need a stretcher in 109.” She throws down the mic and yells out the door. “We got people shot in this building, get more medical!”
I push my way in. “As far as I can tell the only people shot are right here. And they were shot by you.”
“I need a stretcher!”
I’m kneeling by Jenna.
“Goddammit.” Anders.
One. Two. Hole in her shirt. One there. One there. And blood coming. Thick syrup running. She presses her hand to her chest. It soaks the cloth and the blood comes through. Now it’s on her hand. She’s looking at it. Yep. That’s your hand. And that’s your blood. Jenna makes a whimpering sound.
My arm on her lower back, grabbing her shoulder.
And she’s grabbing me. Looks in my eyes kind of, shakes her head. She says. “Fuck.” It doesn’t sound like her.
“Yeah, I got you. Ok. Gimme your hand. There we go.”
There’s blood dripping. Oh man.
Jenna says. “That hurts.” She’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the woman soldier.
The soldier pushes her gun around to the back. She’s coming toward us. Kneeling.
I think you’re just now starting to see what happened.
“You shot me.” You say. And you’re still cute, even when you get shot at.
“Why don’t you get some help?”
“Oh—.” You’re gripping me. You look scared.
“We’re gonna get you that medical. Be just a second.”
You’re bleeding. That’s your blood. That’s a whole lot of your blood on the floor. You’ve got your hand on mine, grabbing me. Desperate handshake. Blood in the space between our hands.
My other hand is on your hair. I’m rubbing your forehead. That’s my left hand, where the arm has stitches in it. It doesn’t have your blood on it yet. It’s already stained with mine. I’m brushing back your hair.
You’re squeezing my hand hard. Got this look on your mouth like you’re about to say something. Eyes kinda squinty. And squeezing me so hard. I squeeze back. I don’t think you’ll mind if I squeeze you as hard as you’re squeezing me. And you don’t seem to. You’re smiling.
Oh, fuck, Jenna. Fuck. Squeeze my hand. Squeeze my hand. Salt water, blood. Some of that is my tears. My face is next to yours. “Oh no! I’m sorry for crying on you!” I’m wiping red tears off your cheek. “I’m sorry!”
“It’s ok.” Bright spot in your eye. “I can taste them.” Your tongue peeks out the side of your mouth, twisting sideways, reaching for my tear on the side of your lip. “You taste salty.”
“They’re tears you dummy.”
You laugh.
I’m sniffling. I wipe my eyes with my thumb. Everything’s blurry. Bright red puddles. Gray light from the slits at the top of the wall. I’m blinking. When my eyes clear there’s Jenna, eyes open, facing the ceiling.
But she’s not looking anymore. She’s not there.
“Jenna?” I squeeze her hand.
Nothing squeezes back so I squeeze harder.
Her hand is limp.
I place it on the floor carefully.
The last thing I ever said to her is call her a dummy.
But she knew I was joking. She did know I was joking.