by T W Morse
“You do know that politicians were bought to set aside that land for their drug-smuggling business, don’t you?” Dad sternly interjects.
Sally continues waving her gun at Dad in a gesture that indicates he should shut up. “I know! Toby eventually told Samantha and in turn Samantha told me. He told her everything. How the three families in New York united and sent their lawyers Anthony, Toby, and Donald to lead the business in Florida. They hired a local pilot to fly the drugs and the money back and forth. We first turned a blind eye, but eventually we didn’t want to raise the twins surrounded by the mafia and drugs. So, we convinced Toby and Anthony to run away to Brazil. Anthony always said, ‘The three families would never find us in Brazil.’ Toby got wind of a big fence coming through on one of Thomas Barron’s airplane runs. A jeweled knife called the Royal Cinquedea. Toby said it was worth tens of millions of dollars, enough for all of us to live comfortably in Brazil forever. The only problem was that when the Royal Cinquedea went missing, Donald Wright suspected Toby and Anthony. Donald was a ruthless man. He was also loyal to the core to those hideous men in New York.”
While Sally is speaking, I notice Dad give me the briefest of looks. He then looks down at the stapler on the office counter. I slowly nod. I am already holding Hannah's hand, so I squeeze it to let her know we are planning an escape.
My attention goes back to Sally’s account of the murders.
“We were going to escape the night when Hurricane Luis hit the Gulf. But the day before the hurricane was due to hit, Donald killed Anthony and sent his fingers to Toby in a box. It was a warning Toby didn’t heed. So, Donald sent some of his thugs to stop us all from fleeing. They tortured Toby and Samantha before killing them in an attempt to find the whereabouts of the Royal Cinquedea. They cut them deep with a knife until they talked. They never gave up the location, though. Then the thugs killed little Hayden.” Her beady green eyes glossed over and grew very wide with this admission before starting again. “Luckily, I was able to get to a hiding place with Helena in a shed, hidden away in the backyard. The others weren’t so lucky. The goons must've not been told by Donald about me and another child. We could hear them being tortured from our hiding place, even over the sound of the bellowing hurricane winds.”
Helena came over and put an arm around Sally, fighting back tears, “That bastard Donald Wright tortured my family. I remember Donald clearly. He always had a fake smile that everyone knew wasn’t genuine. He would always come to the house bearing gifts, like toy trucks for my brother or little creepy toy dolls for me. I hated those damn dolls. I hated him! He pretended to love my family, but he was just a crazy gangster who only cared about money. He got what he deserved! You know I was the one who found them. Just a little kid. I found my whole family sliced up and murdered. I will never forget that night!”
“So that’s why you two planned the murder of Donald Wright?” Dad says to them, but looking at me with confidence.
“That's right! That bastard deserved to die. Everything you said about the night of his murder is true. We had waited years. After going into a witness protection program, we lost his scent. Donald Wright went into hiding up in New York, probably changing his name to an alias. His mob connections hid him away from us and the police, probably because the feds were onto him after our statements. But we were thirsty for revenge. We waited for the right time. When Donald Wright retired and separated from the mob, he moved back down to Somerset and used his old name again. The full cockiness of that man!” Sally says, shaking her head in disgust.
Helena continues, “He came back on our radar when we saw his divorce in the newspaper. Because he was married to a supermodel, their divorce went public. He probably assumed we were dead, too. We were presumed dead after the murders anyway. His mob friends also had people in the FBI. They didn’t pursue any further investigation, presuming the Royal Cinquedea was lost forever. In Donald Wright’s eyes, he was free and clear.”
“Girl, you messed up,” Mr. Nelson comments under his breath.
Helena yells with intense rage. “They took everything from us! Our home was in the possession of the federal government because the Royal Cinquedea was suspected of still being there. Finally, they sold it in an auction a couple of years ago. Aunt Sally and I didn’t have enough to purchase it, and instead it went to Silas O’Leary. We were thinking about killing Mr. O’Leary but thought it would bring too much attention to the house. So, I started to dig in the back and search the house when he was at school but had no luck. My father hid the knife in a safe place. It will probably never be found. We need that money!”
I had forgotten that just a few days ago she sounded like a cheerleader. Now she sounds like a sadistic killer, barely able to control her rage. Sally starts to comfort Helena after her confession, almost forgetting about us.
Dad looks at me, winks, and yells, “NOW!”
I quickly pick up the stapler on the counter behind us, and moving with primal instincts, I throw it at Helena. Simultaneously, Dad picks up a three-hole punch and throws it across the office, right at Sally’s head. Both women drop their guns and fall to their knees in pain, screaming profanities.
“Go! Go!” Dad yells.
Dad, Hannah, and I all jump over the counter, followed by a stumbling Mr. Nelson, swearing under his breath while trying to follow us. We race for the office door. Hannah is the first to the door, quickly unlocking it and throwing it open. We all file out rapidly, hoping to buy ourselves a few minutes before Sally and Helena can get up and shoot us. My heart is racing and sweat is pouring down my face. Dad is the last one out, making sure Mr. Nelson gets through after his stumble.
I look back at him and he points ahead saying, “RUN!” As he slams the door behind him and begins to run towards us, a gunshot rings out, shattering the glass of the office door. At the same moment, I hear Dad yell in pain.
CHAPTER 42
- ULYSSES -
A SHOT IN THE DARK—AND YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO QUEEN?
W e run down the hallway as fast as our feet can carry us. As we take a sharp right for the science wing, I look back at Dad, who was still running but holding his arm. He hisses, “Keep going!”
We remember the exit was locked by Helena with a chain and padlock when we came in earlier, so we need to find somewhere to hide. I have the idea to make it to the audio video classroom where they film the morning news.
“Let’s head to the newsroom,” I say in a loud whisper. It is located at the end of the science hallway, near Hannah’s and my lockers.
“Why are we going there?” Mr. Nelson asks, huffing and puffing behind us. We all stop to catch our breath.
“I don’t hear them following us,” Hannah says after a moment of listening.
“Yeah, but they will soon be following my blood trail.” Everyone looks at Dad with shocked faces as he shows us his wound. “I think it’s just a flesh wound. It stings like no other though. And they’ll follow the blood and catch us in no time.”
As he says this, Hannah rips off one of Mr. Nelson’s orange tracksuit sleeves, quickly tying it right above Dad’s wound, just below his shoulder.
“Hey now, Hannah?” Mr. Nelson says in protest.
“We need to stop the bleeding. Your tracksuit should be a good tourniquet to stop the bleeding. This has to be tight, so it’s going to hurt.” As she says this, my dad winces in pain; she quickly finishes tying the knot. We all look at her, stunned.
“What? None of you guys have taken a first aid class? What would you do without me?” Hannah says, blushing red. “What’s the plan?” she adds.
“I texted Deputy Diaz before confronting Mr. Barron. I told him Ms. Clifton and Ms. Simmons were imposters and planning to kill Mr. Barron. I forwarded him the pictures and my research on the Royal Cinquedea. But that was about an hour ago. They may not follow through on my leads and may drag their feet getting here. Especially if Detective Brute is involved,” Dad says regretfully.
“Do you have your phone
now?” I ask.
“Ah, no. When Sally hit me over the head, it rolled under Mr. Barron’s desk,” Dad says smiling.
“This is no time to smile — you’re shot! Crazy women are after us and our principal is dead!” Mr. Nelson squeaks.
“I left my phone recording. It recorded a confession from Principal Barron before he died, and it’s got pretty good range. I bet it got the confessions of those two witches, too,” Dad says, filling us in on his tactics.
“We need to hide,” I urge.
“Agreed,” Dad adds. “And call the police.”
“There is a phone in the newsroom,” Hannah recalls.
“I got a hiding place,” Mr. Nelson interjects.
“What place?” Dad says, holding his arm and wincing in pain.
“The concession stand in the gymnasium. They would never check for us there,” Mr. Nelson adds.
“Okay, you guys go there. You’re hurt and need to sit down. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Hannah and I will make it to the newsroom. Call the cops and hide,” I say with a newfound confidence.
“We should stick together,” Dad protests, but as he says this he leans on Mr. Nelson and is looking a little pale.
“No! Sorry, Dad, this is the plan. We got this,” I add.
“Ulysses, I can’t. I can’t,” Dad tries to speak.
“I know, Dad. I love you, too,” I reassure him before grabbing Hannah’s hand and running toward the newsroom just as we hear rapid footsteps approaching.
We arrive at the newsroom at the end of the science corridor. Hannah bashes the glass window of the newsroom door with a fire extinguisher and unlocks the door by putting her arm through and opening it from the opposite side.
“You’re amazing!” I say but am feeling a little intimidated by Hannah. Thankfully, she is on our side.
She smiles while whispering, “They probably heard that and are coming this way.”
“I hope so,” I say.
She frowns. “Why?”
“So, they don’t follow Dad and Mr. Nelson.”
Hannah nods in agreement.
We leave the lights off because the bay windows allow enough light to illuminate the large room. The media room that hosts the morning Mangrove High news actually looks like a real newsroom, with its very own green screen, anchor desk, and large pivoting video camera. The newsroom phone is on a cluttered teacher desk in the corner.
“There’s the phone,” I say as we run over to it. I dial 911.
A female operator answers with a husky older woman’s voice. “911. What is your emergency?”
“Yes. There are two female gunmen at Mangrove High. They have already killed Principal Barron and now are after us,” I quickly say over the line.
“Who is this? Son, I don’t appreciate bogus calls,” the 911 operator says over the line.
What! She didn’t believe me! Also, who uses the word “bogus” anymore? “My name is Ulysses Adair. My father, Logan Adair, has contacted Deputy Diaz about Sally Gibbins and Helena Gallant being the murderers of Donald Wright last Friday.”
“Nice one, son. You’re going to be in trouble for falsely reporting a crime,” the operator says in a condescending tone, as only an older person living in 1% Somerset could say.
“Listen to me. We are in danger! They have guns. Principal Barron’s body is in the main office of Mangrove High. Send help now!” I say with frustration. A loud shot rings out in the hallway.
“They’re here!” Hannah says, pulling on my arm.
“Was that a gunshot?” the operator says in a pathetically surprised voice.
“Yes!” I hiss and hang up.
Hannah and I look around and notice the back door that leads to the chemistry and physics labs.
“We need both of them on our tail, so they need to first find us and then we get away.”
“You sure?” asks Hannah, who is looking terrified as they draw closer. “I can hear them.”
“If we want them to not find my dad and Mr. Nelson ...” I add.
The benefit of being trapped in the newsroom is we have audio that can be transmitted to all the speakers in the school. I quickly take Hannah by the hand and lead her to the audio board. It is attached to a laptop computer. Luckily, it is already on. The student in charge must've left it on to download music. They often play classic rock songs to open the morning announcements.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” We can hear Sally Gibbins chanting in her creepy voice.
It was followed by Helena saying, “We’ll kill you nice and slow just like Donald Wright!”
The kid in charge of the morning music had left the computer downloading a new mix. Sure enough, several hundred songs show on the bright computer screen. I turn on the board and flip the switch, making the music go schoolwide. The speakers hum. I quickly scroll the song selection.
“Perfect!” I exclaim and hit play at the same moment we hear their footsteps crunch on the glass after opening the door.
I take Hannah by the hand and run for the back door leading to the chemistry labs, knocking over chairs and desks to block their pursuit while “Killer Queen” by Queen blasts throughout every speaker in Mangrove High.
I heard Sally yell to Helena, “They split up. You find the dad and that annoying gym teacher. Ah! I hate Queen!” She says this while firing several bullets that whiz by our heads.
CHAPTER 43
- LOGAN -
A TRACKSUIT REVENGE
B ob and I sit in the corner of the Mangrove gymnasium concession booth, among boxes of chips and candy bars, listening to “Killer Queen.” I nod, smiling. “Classic. The kids must have made it to the newsroom. Ulysses must be leading Sally and Helena from us.”
“Your arm,” Bob says, choking out the words.
I look at the bandaged arm. Bob’s orange tracksuit sleeve is now dark red with my blood. Bob rips off his other tracksuit sleeve.
“New fashion trend? Sleeveless tracksuits,” I say, smiling.
Bob’s face looks concerned. “Logan, how we gettin’ out of this?” he says as he ties the new sleeve over the old one, making me wince again in pain. “Your color’s not good, and we got mad women running everywhere. Hopefully U got to the phone.”
“I know he did. The police should be here any minute,” I say, trying to stand. I take a huge swig of water from the bottle I had pilfered from the concession supplies.
“How you holding up?” Bob inquires.
“I’m good, buddy. Sorry for getting you involved in this mess,” I say.
“Actually, I got you involved when I asked you to investigate Terry and Jack’s frame job. I was so worried about me instead of them. I was selfish and look where we are now,” Bob says wearily.
I look at Bob as he hangs his head. “I’m to blame and you're truly the best friend a lonely old man like me could ask for.”
“What’s bugged me the most is how did Mary, I mean Helena, do all this without any of the Mangrove High internal cameras catching her?” Bob says, standing up next to me in the dark cramped concession booth.
“She was an administrator. Maybe for only a week, but with the help of the office secretary, who has been employed for several months, they could erase or stop those cameras from filming anything incriminating.
Administrators can wield a lot of power, especially if they go unchecked,” I reason.
“You know that’s right,” Bob says in agreement. “You hear that?” Bob whispers as the song ends.
There was a squeak on the parquet floor outside the door of the concessions stand, probably made by a sneaker. I open the door slightly. The gymnasium is pitch black but I can see the silhouette of a figure, which looks an awful lot like Helena, creeping toward our door.
“How she find us?” Bob says in a whispered squeak.
“Like you said — cameras.” They must have seen us head into the gymnasium. I look around for a weapon and start to formulate a plan.
“What are we going to do?” Bob
whispers.
I point at a wrench on the counter. “Take that and stand behind the door,” I direct Bob in a hushed voice. I stand on the far end of the concessions, sitting on a large box of soda cans, just as the door creaks open. Helena creeps into the concession stand, raising her gun towards me.
“I have you now — wait, where’s the gym teacher!?” As soon as she says this, Bob jumps from behind the door, striking her on the back of her head with the wrench. Helena crumples to the floor, but in the process, the gun lets off a shot, hitting the side of a large ice cream freezer.
“It’s physical education! Crazy lady!” Bob says as he throws down the wrench. “She’s not dead, right?”
“No,” I say as I rush over. “She's still breathing. Good work, Bob!” I give him a fist bump. “One down — one to go. Bob, do you have a key to that ice cream freezer?”
“Logan, come on, course I do.” Bob finds the key and unlocks the freezer. It has barely any ice cream left. We both quickly throw out what is left, except for one carton that Bob devours.
I direct Bob to pick Helena up and place her in the freezer. “She made her own breathing hole with the gun; she’ll be fine.” I lock the freezer and leave Helena in her temporary cold jail cell.
“Should we take the gun?” Bob asks.
“No, I hate them. Leave it, and let’s find the kids.”
CHAPTER 44
- ULYSSES -
IT PAYS TO PAY ATTENTION IN SCIENCE
H annah and I run for our lives. Sally Gibbins is only few dozen feet behind us, very spry for her age. We pass chemistry labs on every side of us, but I am concerned because the corridor is a dead end. We gasp for air as we check every classroom door to see if they are unlocked; we’re praying some irresponsible teachers left their classrooms open. We just need a few more minutes before the police arrive. Hopefully the gunshot was enough for the dispatcher to take my call seriously.
