by Michael Wood
Ruth eased herself down the stairs. Her hand gripped the bannister firmly as she descended one step at a time to the ground floor. She listened intently to any sound alerting her to where Jake might be, but she couldn’t hear anything. As she reached the bottom, she stopped, frozen in terror, as she saw the dead body of a pupil lying face down in a pool of blood.
The girl had blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, tied with a pink bobble. She’d obviously been shot in the back as she was trying to run to the exit. There was a large hole in the centre of her back. A direct hit. Ruth squinted as she bent down to see the girl’s face. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. She looked vaguely familiar and Ruth wondered if she’d taught her at some point. Probably.
Tears pricked her eyes. She looked up. More bodies were strewn about the corridor, mostly pupils but also a few teachers. It was like a battlefield; soldiers shot down, long before their time, and left where they lay. This was a place of learning, and it was a happy and friendly environment. Framed photographs and artwork adorned the walls. A cabinet contained all the trophies the school had won in a plethora of events from sporting achievement to spelling competitions. The only sound usually heard was that of laughter and the raucous chattering of teens with no volume button. All that was ruined. She’d never see anything other than dead bodies when she looked down this corridor again. Blood splatter on the trophy cabinet and photographs was an insult to the institute and the people who had dedicated their lives to teaching the next generation of builders, teachers, doctors and accountants.
Ahead, she saw the double doors leading to safety and freedom. They’d been closed, a thick chain wrapped around the handles and a heavy padlock dangling, securing it in place. Jake had purposely locked the doors before going on his spree. He didn’t intend for anyone to be able to escape.
She felt sick. Her husband had done this. She’d slept with a man capable of opening fire on innocent children. What the hell was going through his mind when he pulled that trigger?
‘Ruth.’
She froze at the sound of her name being called by a familiar voice. Slowly, she turned and saw Jake up ahead. He was wearing black trousers and a dark body warmer over a white shirt. He had a rifle in one hand and a handgun in the other. He had blood on his clothes and spatter on his face. She didn’t recognise this man at all.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. There was a huge lump in her throat. Back upstairs in the classroom, there was the slightest hint of hope that the police had been wrong, that Jake wasn’t the gunman. Now, with dead bodies at her feet and her husband holding weapons firmly in his bloodied hands, there was no doubt. She was married to a multiple murderer.
‘Jake,’ she squealed. The word was barely audible. She tried to say more. She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. Her mouth was shaking with emotion.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Jake said. ‘You’re looking well. You’ve lost weight. It suits you.’
Ruth squeezed her eyes closed and tears ran down her face. There was blood on the walls, dead bodies between them, and he was talking like they were having a latte in Costa to try to iron out their issues.
‘Jake, why are you doing this?’ she asked.
‘Because it’s all gone. Everything’s gone.’
‘What has?’
‘You and me.’
‘This isn’t about you and me, surely?’
‘I love you, Ruth,’ he said, a catch in his throat.
Ruth buckled. ‘How can you say that? Look at what you’ve done.’
‘It doesn’t stop me loving you. I thought we had something special.’
‘We did.’
‘You said you loved me.’
‘I did.’
‘But not anymore?’
‘You changed.’
‘We all change.’
‘You scared me.’ Tears were pouring down her face.
‘How?’
‘I didn’t know you anymore. You shut me out.’
‘You wouldn’t have understood.’
‘You didn’t give me the chance,’ Ruth said, gaining in confidence. ‘I asked you, time and time again, to talk to me, to open up and you refused. What was I supposed to do?’
‘I … I lost everything,’ he stuttered.
‘You didn’t lose me. You pushed me away.’
‘I’ve missed you.’ He smiled.
She smiled back. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’
Upstairs, Chris had watched from the open doorway as Ruth made her way carefully and slowly down the stairs. He listened intently for her to start talking to her husband. Once the muffled conversation began, he leapt into action.
He ran to the classroom next to his as quietly as he could, looked through the glass and saw Pauline Butters crouched in the corner with the kids. He opened the door and whispered to her.
‘Pauline, everyone, come on, come with me.’
‘What’s happening? Is it all over?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s a long story, but Ruth’s distracting the gunman and we’re going out the back way.’
‘She’s doing what? And you let her?’ she asked, her face soured.
‘Like I said, it’s a long story. Come on. We don’t have much time.’
He left her to rouse her class, then went to knock on the doors of the other classrooms along the corridor. Some had barricaded the doors while others had simply turned out the lights and hid out of sight of the windows. Soon, the corridor was full of staff and pupils.
‘Everyone, I want you to make your way to the back staircase very quietly,’ Chris said just loud enough for them all the hear. ‘Head for the fire exit next to the science labs. I’ve told the police this is what we’re doing, so hopefully someone will be waiting for us. Now, go.’
He stood back as he watched them scrambling to get to the end of the corridor. He kept turning to the stairs he’d seen Ruth disappear down, wondering what she was saying to Jake, and how long she’d be able to keep him distracted for.
‘You should have told me how you were feeling,’ Ruth said.
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t know myself.’
‘Then you should have just said anything. I’d have listened. I’d have stuck by you and tried to understand, but you shut me out, Jake. You shut everyone out.’
‘I got a letter. I’ve got cancer. I can’t pronounce it. Apparently, it’s a rare kind.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as more tears ran down her face.
‘It’s blood cancer. I’m riddled with it.’ He tried to smile, but couldn’t. ‘Everything has turned against me. Even my own body.’
Ruth didn’t know what to say. It was like trying to talk to a complete stranger. She looked down. There was blood all over her shoes. ‘Is it true you killed Malcolm and Viv?’
Jake blinked a few times. He nodded.
‘Why?’ she asked through the tears. ‘They were trying to help you. They took you in when you had to move out of the house. They were looking after you.’
‘They were in league with them,’ he said, bitterness in his voice.
‘Who?’
‘They kept trying to make me go to the doctor. They kept saying I was depressed and should be on medication.’
‘Maybe that’s what you need.’
‘No!’ he shouted loudly, causing Ruth to stagger backwards. ‘I don’t want to take fucking tablets like I’m some kind of nutter.’
‘Ok. Ok. It’s ok, I’m sorry. Calm down, Jake,’ she said, holding her arms out. ‘Are you sleeping?’
‘No.’
‘Eating?’
‘Not much.’
‘Maybe it would help to talk to a professional. They’ll help you to make sense of what you’re feeling and thinking.’
Jake looked up. His eyes were wide. Sweat glistened on his forehead. ‘Have they been talking to you?’
‘Who?’
‘Viv and Malcolm.’ He didn’t call them Mum and Dad.
‘No. I haven’t heard from them for a while.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘I’m not. Jake, why would I lie?’
‘You think I’m mad like them, don’t you?’
‘No. I don’t. I think you’re still upset about Steve going into prison. Angry, even.’
‘Don’t bring Steve into this. Steve has been the only person who has helped me see what I have to do.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She frowned.
Jake slowly began to edge closer to Ruth. ‘Steve explained it all to me. There are people out there who try to stifle you, to stop you from achieving great things. That bitch Matilda Darke stopped Steve from being a great detective and so turned him into a great criminal. It was her that made him kill all those people. He asked me to kill her for him.’
‘But why your mum and dad?’ she asked, tears streaming down her face. ‘They were helping you.’
‘Steve said anyone who gets in your way has to be dealt with. Anyone who hurts you needs to be made to pay.’
Ruth frowned. ‘I didn’t think you saw Steve anymore. After he went in prison, you said you were disappointed with him, that you didn’t know him anymore.’
‘Of course I still know him. He’s my brother.’ He shrugged.
‘Have you been plotting this, all this time?’
‘No. I haven’t. Steve has, though.’
‘But if you haven’t been seeing him, how have you been talking to each other?’
‘I have my ways,’ he said, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.
A door slammed from upstairs. Ruth gave a nervous smile as Jake stopped in his tracks.
‘What was that?’
‘What?’
‘They’re all going, aren’t they? You came down here so they could all run out another way. Hats off to you, Ruth. Selfless to the end.’
Jake made his way to the stairs, but Ruth got there before him. She stood in front of them, blocking his way.
‘Jake, please, enough lives have been lost. You don’t have to do this.’
‘I’m on a mission.’
‘Your mission is complete. You’ve killed Matilda Darke. That’s what Steve wanted, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why are you carrying on?’
‘Because I’m enjoying myself so fucking much.’ He grabbed Ruth by the throat and pushed her to the wall. She banged her head. He squeezed her neck hard. She tried to scratch at his fingers to get him to release his grip, but it was useless. He was too strong for her.
She was petrified.
She opened her mouth wide to try and gasp for air. She locked eyes with Jake and saw pure evil, pure hatred in them.
Jake grinned. He pushed the Glock into her mouth, past her teeth and to the back of her throat before squeezing the trigger.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chris heard the sound of the gunshot and stopped in his tracks. He was at the end of the corridor, pushing the kids through the double doors, urging them silently to get out and run for their lives.
Was that Ruth? Had he killed her? No. She was his wife, surely not.
‘Sir?’ one of the students said as Chris slowly made his way to the stairs.
He wasn’t even halfway along the corridor when he saw someone coming up from the ground floor. As he reached the top of the stairs, Chris saw the gunman, a rifle in one hand, a handgun in the other, bloodstains on his clothes.
‘Fuck,’ Chris said. He was frozen to the spot.
‘Oh my God,’ one of the pupils behind him said.
The sound of their voice caused Chris to react. He had to save the students at any cost. He turned.
‘Go. Run. Go,’ he shouted. Following them.
Jake fired off a shot that shattered the glass in the doors, causing Chris and the remaining pupils to duck. It had been far too high to hit anyone, even Chris, who was over six feet tall. Jake was toying with them.
Once through the doors, Chris quickly looked around to see if there was anything he could use as a barricade, but there was nothing there.
‘Shit.’ He rounded up the students. ‘Come on. We have to go. You need to run as fast as you can. Now. Go.’ He screamed, panic and fear obvious in his cries.
Downstairs, the sound of a single gunshot had panicked the escaping teachers and pupils, and so Pauline Butters had gone towards the science lab with a group of students to wait until the coast was clear.
Pauline pushed open the door to the lab and stepped inside. It was in darkness and she fumbled on the wall for the light switch. The room lit up in a brilliant, blinding yellow. She turned back.
‘Where are the others?’ she asked the group of teenagers, no more than twenty of them.
‘They went in the other direction.’
Another gunshot was heard from above, along with the sound of breaking glass.
Pauline was scared. She’d been a teacher for almost forty years. She was one of the old guard, and though she knew basic health and safety, she had refused to be trained in what to do in the event of a school shooting or a terrorist attack. This was Sheffield, England, not Sheffield, Alabama. They didn’t get mass shootings here. Surely those kinds of training courses were just inciting fear.
Now, she was nervous and had no idea what to do. She was as scared as the students, and she knew it showed.
Once inside the science lab, the only way out of the building was through the windows at the back of the room. She pushed chairs and tables out of her way, making a path to safety for her and the pupils.
‘What’s that?’ someone asked.
Pauline turned to see where they were looking. There was what appeared to be a slow cooker, similar to one she had at home, in the middle of a desk. She frowned but didn’t give it a second’s thought.
‘It doesn’t matter. Come on. Liam, I want you to stand on a desk and open the window. Everyone, line up and climb out carefully. Then run as fast as you can to the front car park.’
Liam, the tallest of the group, dragged a desk over to the window and was about to climb on top when the pressure cooker exploded.
Scott ran along the side of the school, keeping his head down below window height. He kept looking up, taking sneaky glances inside the rooms to see if anyone was hiding in there. All the classrooms looked the same to him. Sian followed, staying close and whispering loudly, telling him to go back and leave the rescuing to the armed response officers. He didn’t listen.
Around the back of the building, he saw rows and rows of books through the window. The library. The lights came on. He dived to the ground. Sian followed suit.
‘Oh my God, it’s wet,’ she said as she landed on the damp grass.
He shushed her. ‘Someone’s just come into the library.’
‘How do you know that’s the library?’
‘I’ve been in there a few times.’
‘Why?’ She frowned.
‘When I’ve come to the school if Chris has been working late. There’s a fire door in the far corner. I’m going to have a look.’
Sian pulled Scott back down just as he was about to stand up. ‘Are you insane? What if it’s the gunman going into the room? What if he’s got hostages? If he sees us standing here in bloody flak jackets with police written across it in big letters, who knows what he’ll do.’
‘And if it’s a class full of frightened kids, we can get them out.’
‘Fifty-fifty. I don’t like those odds, Scott.’
‘Jesus,’ he cursed. He fumbled around in his pocket for his phone, unlocked it and opened the camera and turned it to selfie mode. Slowly, he raised the phone until it was just above window level and took a picture.
He quickly brought it back down and he and Sian squinted as they tried to make out the figures in the blurred photo. There were five people in the shot, four of them wearing similar clothes they guessed to be pupils in school uniform. The other they couldn’t make out. Scott zoomed in on the adult.
&
nbsp; ‘Does he look like a gunman to you?’ Sian asked.
‘I can’t see any gun,’ he replied.
‘He could have it concealed on him.’
‘Hang on.’ He zoomed in further. ‘That’s one of the teachers.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Oh God, what’s her name?’
‘It looks like a man to me with that haircut.’
‘She had chemotherapy last year. It’s only just growing back. I went to her house once with Chris. Fiona! That’s it. Fiona Mayhew.’ He stood up and Sian pulled him back down again.
‘What do you think you’re doing? The gunman could be in there with them. If you jump up, knock on the window and start waving, it could be a bloody massacre.’
‘You’re right.’ He sighed.
‘Do you have her number?’
‘No. Chris has.’
‘That’s no good then.’
Scott turned around. Crouched on his knees, his cold fingertips on the edge of the windowsill, he slowly eased himself up so he could see inside the library. He squinted at the bright light. He could see a group of pupils, all scared and frightened, but nobody else. Fiona came into view. She ushered the students into the room and went back to the door to bring in more kids.
Scott tapped lightly on the window with his forefinger, but it made hardly any sound. He rapped again, louder, hoping someone would see.
Sian appeared next to him, her warrant card raised, and slapped it against the glass. ‘They need to know we’re police, that we represent safety.’
Scott tapped again, louder this time. A female student turned, looked at them and screamed. This alerted Fiona Mayhew, who looked to the window. Scott stood up fully and pointed at himself.
Frowning, Fiona glared at him. Suddenly, the penny dropped that she recognised him. She ran over to the window and pushed it open.
‘Scott?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Oh, thank God. I’m so glad to see you,’ she said, a hand slapped to her chest. ‘What’s going on?’
