She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies)

by Adams Irish, Travis

  “Are the suspects still in the area?” Lorabell asks with a smirk, watching May use the cordless phone on the LCD display above her.

  “I don’t know,” May says with a shiver of fear, “they broke in when I was asleep, and it looks like they went out the back. They threw my panties and paperwork all over the yard!” She admits with a grimace, turning her head to the side for a moment before returning her gaze to the backyard.

  “Can you give me an idea where they went?” Lorabell presses in an urgent voice. “If we know the general area they fled toward, I can send an officer there to apprehend them.”

  “Do you want me to go outside and look for them?” May asks with a bit of surprise, showing concern for her safety.

  “Not if you feel that you’re in danger, ma’am,” Lorabell replies with a sneaky smile, “but the more information I can provide the responding officers- the better.”

  “Okay, I’m carrying a rifle for my own protection.” May confirms with an innocent gaze. “Will you tell the officers not to shoot if they see me?”

  “Yes, please be careful.” Lorabell instructs with a genuine smile. “Can you describe what you’re wearing so that the officers can identify you?”

  “Yes, I have blonde hair, and I’m a white female, wearing black sweats and a blue T-shirt.” May relays nervously over the phone.

  “Okay, can you step outside and let me know what you see?” Lorabell asks. “I have an officer on the way.”

  May picks up the rifle with her left hand, cradling it with her lower arm and holding it by the forestock beneath the barrel. She holds the phone against her right ear as she moves out into the backyard, stepping slowly down the cement stairs to the grass below. Her slippers brush through the thick grass with dutiful ease as she makes her way to the edge of the yard following the trail of panties and papers.

  “Oh my God!” May says quietly as she freezes in her tracks at the edge of the lawn. “I see them! They’re sitting at the top of a hill about fifty-yards away- going through my shit!”

  “Okay, ma’am, I have officers on the way.” Lorabell advises in a slow, condescending tone. “Please keep an eye on the suspects until my unit arrives, but maintain a safe distance.”

  “Hey, you little motherfuckers!” May shouts, pulling the phone away from her ear. “I’m on the phone with the police right now. You need to leave my things right there or you’re going to JAIL!”

  “Holy shit, dude, she’s got another gun!” One of the young men says with genuine alarm as he stops rummaging through a small, gray shoebox.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here!” The other young thief declares in a hurry as he snatches her laptop from the grass and begins to sprint down the other side of the hill.

  “GET BACK HERE WITH MY COMPUTER!” May screams as she begins to run toward the young men, dropping the cordless phone as she grips the rifle with both hands on her way up the hill.

  “Shit! Shit!” The young man says in a panic as he sees May approaching with a formidable expression and an assault rifle in her hands.

  He reaches down and retrieves the gray box from the ground, along with her external hard drive and the pistol from her closet. The young man then bolts upright and clumsily follows his companion down the other side of the hill.

  “That’s danger close!” Maxwell says with a motherly look of concern as he watches May from the view of a handheld camera, “I wouldn’t let her get too close; we need to stop her!”

  “Yeah, let’s take some precaution.” Henri agrees from his position at the center of the OBDAT control panel. “Mason, what do you think?”

  “I’m looking at the map now.” Mason replies through a headset from within the safety of his rental car in Texas. “There’s a school about another seventy-five yards away. Have them lead her through the alley between the apartment complexes. I’ll have Eisley pop smoke at the end of the alley. That will ensure nobody gets hurt, and our young friends can easily escape through the trees at the backside of the high school.”

  May strides with renewed fury, her hands gripping the rifle in strong affirmation, focused solely on retrieving what belongs to her. When she reaches the top of the hill, her eyes follow the two young men as they sprint into an alley between two apartment buildings. A quick glance at the ground near her feet brings forth a jolt of pain; the precious photos from her past are scattered all over the grassy hill. She sucks in air through her nose like a mad bull, pulling the rifle firm against her chest as she begins to sprint at top speed after the teenagers. During her short jaunt down the hill, she glances from side-to-side, watching for the police who are supposed to be helping her, but is discouraged to see that there are none.

  When she reaches the buildings, May slows down to a steady walk, confused at the sight of white smoke billowing out from the end of the alley. She is gripped with a sudden sense of caution as if there is a larger force at play here. With a look of disbelief, her eyes move down to the trigger guard of the rifle, and she presses the small button to disengage the safety. As she approaches the smoke, her mind begins to form wild theories about who might be responsible for engineering this robbery. Her heart begins to throb against the inside of her chest as the circumstances are clearly not adding up. ‘Where are the police?’ She asks herself as she steps within three feet of the white wall of smoke.

  Before she can contemplate these things, a gunshot rings out from behind the veil of smoke. May ducks down on the asphalt and places her right knee against the gritty, hard surface as she pulls the rifle up into a firing position, aiming the barrel at the center of the smoke. Her mind is racing with theories as she holds the stock tight against her right shoulder, watching for any movements and immediate threats, hoping that the police will arrive soon. She begins to tremble, feeling awkward and afraid; a writer of children’s books kneeling in the street like a soldier before a wall of mysterious smoke.

  She hears another shot that flies above her head, forcing all logic to escape her as the terrified woman begins to return fire. At first May only shoots two rounds, but corrects her aim slightly based on where the shot came from, and fires five more times. Her ears pick up the slightest sound of someone in pain, and she zeroes in on the sound, aiming her rifle as close as possible to that one spot within the plumes of smoke. She fires three more times for good measure, then retreats back to the safety of the bricks behind the corner of the apartment complex to her right.

  May feels instantly sick inside as she considers what might have happened through the smoke. Her stomach is in deep physical pain and she is trembling all over, afraid for her life, and the life of the young man who has been firing upon her. She puts a shaky right palm to her forehead, feeling nauseated and wanting to throw up, still watching for the police to arrive.

  May is filled with the dread of not knowing what is happening, and she looks around in a state of shock and terror, hoping to soon see another human being. She wants to scream as the tension continues to build; the smoke is starting to clear, but not enough for her to know what is happening. Finally, she leans back against the building and begins to cry, the rough bricks gripping her T-shirt like so many tiny, demonic hands. Her entire body is shaking as she turns to look around the corner. The smoke has cleared enough for her to see the outline of a large building about twenty yards away. She squeezes her eyes tight for a moment, trying to identify the shapes in front of the building.

  A surge of energy hits May in the back, and she finds herself sprawling to the earth with intense force and frightening speed. She instinctively grits her teeth, wondering if, for a moment, she has been shot from behind, but then the young woman feels a heavy weight bearing down on her. Two powerful hands latch onto her wrists and press her to the ground face first, forcing the rifle out of her hands.

  “Face down! You’re under arrest!” A man shouts as he holds her wrists and uses his knee in her back to prevent her from moving. “What the fuck are you shooting at; you almost hit me!?” He asks with brazen
concern and self-righteous outrage.

  Agent Eisley watches for a moment as the police officer tackles May and restrains her. He feels suddenly terrible for his role in all of this, observing from a position near the tree line. Beads of sweat are streaming across his face as he hunkers down next to a small boulder to catch his breath.

  “Did you leave any evidence behind, Agent Eisley?” Mason asks through the headset.

  “No, Sir,” The young man says with labored breath, “I retrieved both smoke grenades and my shell casings before the police arrived. It looks like they have the subject in custody.”

  “What about our young friends from the high school?” Mason asks with concern. “Did they get to the safety of the tree line? Please confirm!”

  “Yes, Sir, I’m looking now…” Agent Eisley replies quickly, pulling up a pair of small binoculars to survey the school grounds to the right. “Yeah, it looks like they made it okay.” He announces, watching the two young men as they make their way to the east side of town.

  “Can either of those boys connect this to the agency?” Mason asks, wanting to be thorough.

  “No, they think I’m a jealous ex-boyfriend,” Agent Eisley replies with confidence, “we’re good to go.”

  The young agent smiles with satisfaction, brushing his dark hair back and enjoying the nice breeze as it drifts through the tall pine trees that are providing him cover from the police down below. He takes a seat on the small rock that he was using for cover from gunfire, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, casually looking down at the school as he taps the smokes against his leg to pack the tobacco in tight. After a few seconds, he stops shaking the pack of cigarettes and his entire frame freezes; the young man’s German features showing a sudden ghastly, pale color. Agent Eisley opens his mouth in horror as he uses his binoculars to look at the grounds again, this time further to the west.

  “Oh my God, Sir, we have a serious problem!” Agent Eisley reports slowly into his headset.

  “What problem?” Mason asks with refreshed concern, waiting patiently for a response.

  “This is not a high school…” The young man replies as a tear streams quickly down his right cheek and drips from the side of his face. “This is an elementary school!”

  “But it’s just after two, right? Everyone should be in class.” Mason inquires as he looks at his watch from his rental car in Texas.

  “It’s two O’ clock central time, you fucking retard!” The young agent replies as more tears begin to slide down his cheeks. “Virginia is on Eastern Time, it’s after three here… The kids just got out of school… I heard the bell when I was popping the smoke, but I thought… they were changing classes.”

  “Eisley, what happened?” Mason demands with concern, feeling his gut sink at the distress he hears in the young man’s voice. “Eisley, what happened out there!? Report in, son!”

  The young agent falls to his knees, looking away from the school as his face turns red with anger. He begins to bawl with his mouth wide open, grieving and shaking from the inside out, wanting to pull out his side arm and shoot himself in the temple. He reaches down to the earth, gripping the soil in his hands with fury, feeling the delicate pieces of dirt pushing beneath his fingernails.

  “Eisley, I need you to vacate the area…” Mason orders, wanting to regain control of the situation.

  “Oh my God, Sir!” The agent says into his headset. “Oh my God…”

  After one last look of shame, the young man proceeds up the tree line toward a truck that is waiting for him near the side of the road fifty-yards to the north.

  More police cars begin to surround the elementary school as dozens of students stay frozen on the grounds, covering their heads for safety. At the playground, a young black boy is holding his right leg, crying in agony as he rocks back and forth in the dirt. His classmates are hiding behind the thick pillars and sturdy bars of the jungle gym. They look on in confusion and terror, crying openly for their wounded classmate.

  On the sidewalk in front of the school, a little girl is cradled in her teacher’s arms; her lifeless body struck through the chest with a rifle bullet. The teacher is sobbing in a state of shock, his white dress shirt and brown jacket saturated in fresh blood. He kneels over with the girl in his arms, hanging his balding head in shame, unafraid of more gunfire.

  “Agent Eisley, what happened?” Lorabell asks with concern from the control panel of the OBDAT.

  “I would say some kids got hurt at the elementary school… Or worse!” Maxwell replies, glaring at her with building fury.

  “We don’t know that yet,” Henri interrupts, holding his hand up to silence his analyst, “and if someone fucked up here; it was probably Mason.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to leave the yard…” Lorabell says quietly, looking up at the LCD displays showing images of May’s empty home. “Why would she shoot like that without provocation?”

  “I don’t know.” Henri replies with a quick shrug. “We can only setup handheld surveillance to cover the area immediately around the house. The rest of it is a blackout zone. I still have no idea what the story is in Texas. We’ll have to get that from Mason.”

  “You pushed her too far!” Maxwell states indignantly, continuing to scorch Lorabell with his stare. “I hope you’re happy with yourself…”

  “Enough of this bullshit! Henri snaps, glaring at Maxwell from his left eye. “Ming’s death is still on your head, and if one of us is responsible for these people, then all of us are… You’re welcome to leave now, we don’t need you anymore.”

  “Okay… whatever.” Maxwell says with a frustrated expression as he gets up from his seat and begins to walk away. “One more thing though, Henri… When I play MY video games, people don’t actually die.”

  Henri turns toward the younger man, locking eyes with him for several seconds.

  “MING!” Henri says with a growling rage, like a wild boar, before turning back around in his chair.

  Lorabell looks up at the LCD monitors and then back down at the control panel of the OBDAT, placing her forehead on her right hand as she contemplates her actions.

  “Don’t worry about it!” Henri orders, still amped up from his conversation with Maxwell. “If it’s a problem, then it’s my problem. Go get some rest.”

  XVI. Stats & Stripes – Briefing the Eagle

  “So where did we finish out? Henri asks, walking briskly through the halls of The White House, eager to be on time for his meeting with The President.

  “Two dead and two arrested.” Mason replies, handing Henri a manila envelope full of classified reports.

  The Congressman is dressed in his most lavish black suit with a pearl-colored tie and his gray hair is slicked back in neat, wavy lines. Mason trails one step behind him on his right side as they move through the historic halls of the White House on their way to the Oval Office. The General is wearing his ceremonial hat and green uniform, with three bronze stars shining bright on each shoulder, standing tall and looking optimistic beside The Congressman.

  “What about Julia Welheim?” Henri asks, scratching his head instinctively as he peruses the materials within the envelope.

  “She’s been committed to a mental hospital in Florida for now.” Mason says with a vindicated smile. “Why did we have to tell Cardigan that she committed suicide?”

  “Because I needed these to be real people, and I wanted her to feel attached to them; like puppy dogs.” Henri states with an arrogant and fiery stare, feeling more powerful as they get closer to the Oval Office.

  “What about the situation in Virginia?” General Mason inquires with a fearful gaze, almost wishing he didn’t ask the question.

  “I’ll take care of Virginia; that’s no problem!” Henri reassures the younger man with a brief wink from his right eye as the bright lights from the ceiling create an impressive sheen on his forehead. “How about the murder-suicide in Texas; is that all cleaned up?” He asks in a somewhat malicious tone, looking at Mason with a gent
le half-grin.

  “Everything in Texas is buttoned up.” Mason answers, not knowing how to react to Henri’s mixed vocal and facial expressions. “We also cleaned up the forensics in California. Phillip’s truck was found just around the corner, and the insides were apparently torched by a gang.”

  “It sucks when that happens…” Henri declares with mild amusement, clearly annoyed by the long walk to The President’s office.

  “What about Devlin?” Mason pries in a worried manner, his voice raised with a bit with urgency.

  “Devlin is still at large,” Henri fires back, “but don’t worry, I’ve got everything tied up in Chicago!” He smiles wide, displaying a full set of bright, white teeth and places his right hand gently on his colleague’s back, giving him a comforting tap. “When we capture him, we’ll send him back into the field on a new assignment… A nice meat grinder in some hellhole outside the states.”