by Michael Wood
‘Where are Scott and Rory?’ Aaron asked, breaking the heavy silence between the three of them. His voice was quiet, dulled by raw emotion.
‘Knowing Rory he’ll have found a vending machine,’ Christian said and gave a nervous laugh.
‘It’ll save him raiding my snack drawer.’ Sian tried to smile but she was shaking too much.
‘Is there any news on Jake? Is he dead? Have they caught him?’ Aaron asked.
‘I know as much as you do,’ Christian said.
Sian buckled. She bowed her head and allowed the tears to fall. There had been no sound coming from the school after armed police had entered. It could only mean one thing: this whole operation had been a monumental failure, resulting in dozens of dead, including more of their own colleagues.
‘Can we have a detective in here, please?’ Someone shouted from inside the building.
Christian stepped forward. A paramedic in a green all-in-one suit smeared with blood met Christian just inside the entry. He was tall and solidly built with a messy mount of dark blond hair.
‘We have one of your officers upstairs,’ he said. ‘He seems to be suffering with shock and we’re having difficulty moving him. I thought a friendly face may help.’
‘Right,’ was all Christian could say.
The paramedic led him through the minefield of dead bodies. He stepped around them carefully, taking care not to slip on any spilt blood or stand on a limb. As he looked down, he felt ill, staring into the dead faces of the young. How many had been killed in this school? How would he be able to go home tonight, hug his wife and daughters, and go to bed?
Up the stairs, more bodies were strewn about. This was a crime scene that was going to take days to process. He made a mental note to mention counselling to the Chief Constable. Everybody would be affected by this for years to come.
Through the double doors at the top of the stairs, Christian stopped in his tracks as he came face to face with Rory Fleming’s dead body. He felt his heart skip a beat and held his breath. Less than eight hours ago, everyone was joking with Rory at how happy he was following the announcement of his engagement to PC Natasha Tranter. Now, both had been murdered. Two young lives destroyed.
‘Are you all right?’ the paramedic asked.
Christian swallowed hard. He felt his bottom lip wobbling as he tried to swallow his emotions, but it was no use. The tears had started to fall. He shook his head.
‘Can you cover him?’ he said quietly, nodding towards Rory.
‘Of course.’
Christian waited while a white sheet was brought over to respectfully cover Rory’s face. Christian couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was half expecting him to blink, to sit up and say he was fine. As the sheet covered his face and he still didn’t move, he knew. Rory was truly gone.
Further down the corridor, Scott Andrews was sitting with his back firmly against the wall. He was drenched in blood. On his lap, he was cradling the dead body of Chris Kean, his boyfriend, stroking his hair.
As Christian approached slowly, he could see the look on Scott’s face. There was nothing there, no hint of emotion. His body was there, in the middle of this horror, but his mind had shut down to protect him from the nightmare.
‘Scott,’ Christian said. It came out barely above a whisper. His mouth was dry, and he was shaking. He licked his lips, swallowed hard a couple of times, and tried again. ‘Scott.’ He was louder this time, but there was no response from the young DC.
‘Scott, it’s me, Christian,’ he said, stepping forward towards. ‘Can you hear me?’
Scott didn’t react.
Christian reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was taut, rigid, and didn’t move as he shook him slightly.
‘Scott. Scott,’ he said louder. ‘Come on, let’s get you outside.’
Eventually, he blinked. He turned slightly and made eye contact with Christian. The DI gave him a brief smile.
‘You all right?’ he asked before realising it was a bloody stupid question. Scott was visibly shaking. ‘He’s cold,’ he said to the paramedic. ‘Do you have a blanket or something?’
‘Sure.’
Christian stepped closer. He dropped to his haunches, placed his arm around his colleague and sheltered his vision from the sight of the carnage behind him. ‘Scott, can you tell me if you’re hurt anywhere?’
It was a while before he responded. There were no words; he just shook his head.
‘That’s good. Look, we need to move you. You need to come with me outside. We’ll take you back to the station and Sian will let you empty her secret snack supplies,’ he said with an exaggerated chuckle. Again, Scott didn’t react.
The paramedic handed Christian a red cellular blanket, which he wrapped as best as he could around Scott’s shoulders. The wall was in the way, but it would give him some warmth for the moment at least.
‘Scott, you’re cold. Come with me and we’ll get you warmed up.’ He tried to pull him away from the wall, but he wouldn’t budge. ‘Scott, look at me. Can you understand what I’m saying?’ he asked slowly.
Scott looked and nodded.
‘Good. We can’t stay here. We need to go back to the station. Will you come with me?’
Again, he nodded.
‘That’s good. Now, I’ve got you,’ he said, gripping him harder around the shoulders. ‘I want you to come with me, stay looking straight ahead, and we’ll go downstairs to the car. Can you do that?’
He nodded once.
‘Right. Let’s go.’
Christian struggled to lift Scott up. The life had been drained out of him and he was a dead weight. As he stood, the paramedic reached forward and grabbed Chris, placing him gently down on the bloodied tile flooring and covering him with a white sheet.
Once Scott was standing, Christian adjusted the blanket, wrapped it around him and held him close with a firm grip. Scott rested his head on his shoulder.
‘Now, we’re going to take it slowly, ok? One step at a time.’
They walked carefully through the sea of bodies, making sure nobody was stood on or kicked. Christian wanted to scream and cry, but he needed to be strong for Scott. He increased his grip on the young DC and whispered more placatory words.
Once off the corridor and through the double doors, Christian felt himself relax a little and they took the stairs at a steadier pace.
At the bottom, Sian was waiting for them. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw Scott, the amount of blood covering him. A tear fell, and she let it. She looked up with questioning eyes. Christian shook his head, telling her there was no one else left alive. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Like Christian, she tried to keep a hold on her emotions, but she also wasn’t succeeding, and the tears quickly came.
‘Is there a way to get him out of here without stepping over those bodies?’ Christian asked quietly.
‘Through the library,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘They’ve opened the fire door.’
‘Good. Any sign of—’
She shook her head. ‘I’m hoping we find him dead in a classroom somewhere.’
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sian reached out and took hold of Scott’s left hand.
‘He’s freezing.’
‘He’s in shock.’
She grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace. ‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered earnestly into his ear. ‘I know you’ll be thinking you’re on your own right now, that you’ve lost everything, but we are all here for you. I’m here for you. Always. Never forget that.’
Scott hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her. He leaned into her shoulder and started crying loudly, his sobs resounding off the bloodied school walls.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Frank and Penny were sat either side of Matilda’s bed in a single room, high up in the hospital. Adele had tried to look through the window but in between the slats of the Venetian blinds, all she could make out were the monitors Matilda was hooked up to, the
tubes and wires feeding into her and a large bandage wrapped around her head. She was still unconscious and would be for some time, but she was stable.
‘Come on, Matilda,’ she said under her breath. ‘You can survive this. I know you can.’
She felt more relaxed now that Matilda was out of surgery. Being able to see her was a relief. She’d tried to remain positive in front of Frank and Penny but had wanted to cry her heart out for her best friend. Now, she found herself smiling. Recovery would be long and arduous, but she would have supportive people around her, which was important.
‘I brought you a decent coffee from the shop on the ground floor,’ Daniel said.
Adele hadn’t heard him approaching and jumped at the sound of his deep voice. She turned to face him. She had tears in her eyes.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, handing her the cardboard cup.
‘The next twenty-four hours are critical. She’s survived the initial operation though, that’s the main thing.’
‘She’s a fighter,’ he said with a hint of a smile.
‘She’s had to be. Daniel, come and sit down, there’s something I need to tell you.’
Adele went over to the seating area. She lifted the plastic lid off the cup and gave the coffee a sniff. It smelled strong and she thought it a shame that she didn’t have a bottle of whisky in her bag so she could pour a tot in.
She sat down on the plastic seat and took a sip of the coffee. Daniel sat opposite her. He looked at her with a sad expression.
Adele took a deep breath and looked down into the swirling brown liquid. ‘Daniel, Matilda was pregnant.’
He was silent. Adele had to look up to make sure he’d heard what she said.
‘Pregnant?’ His eyes seemed to sparkle at the notion.
Adele nodded.
‘Why didn’t she tell me? Did you know?’
‘No. I think it’s possible Matilda didn’t know either. She wasn’t too far gone.’
‘Oh. Hang on, you’re speaking in the past tense. She’s lost it, hasn’t she?’
‘Her body went into lockdown after she was shot. It rejected the baby so it could focus all its survival skills on saving her. I’m so sorry, Daniel. I thought it best you know,’ she said, placing a hand on his knee.
His face was unreadable. ‘We never spoke about children. When you’re in your forties, you just assume you’re not going to have them. I’m not sure how I feel.’
‘Do you have kids?’
‘No. Do you think Matilda would have been happy?’
Adele thought for a long moment. She would probably have been horrified at the prospect of becoming a mother at forty-four. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered.
‘Maybe we could talk about it when—’
Daniel was interrupted by Adele’s phone ringing. She looked at the display, saw it was Lucy calling and made her excuses. She moved away to take the call.
‘Lucy, you phoned at exactly the right time. Remind me to buy you a bottle of Prosecco. What’s up?’
‘I’m sorry, Adele, I think you need to come back to work. We’ve been informed of a third shooting. There are more bodies coming in.’
‘Another? Shit. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
The drive from the Hallamshire Hospital to Watery Street didn’t take long. Traffic was hectic on West Street, as usual, but once in the centre of Sheffield, Adele didn’t have any trouble getting through. News of the shootings seemed to have kept everyone off the streets. Usually, in the car, Adele would have the radio on, a bit of background music or the news, but she wanted silence for this journey while she marshalled her thoughts. Matilda had survived the surgery, but that was only the first hurdle. She’d need more operations, reconstructive surgery, and then there was physiotherapy and counselling. What would the MRI scans reveal? Would she be brain-damaged? She might not be able to live on her own anymore. She might have to have round-the-clock care. It was strange to think that less than twenty-four hours ago they were both sitting on the sofa in Matilda’s living room, sharing a bottle of wine and taking the piss out of the clothes on an episode of Columbo from the 1970s.
When Adele pulled into her regular parking space at the back of the mortuary building, she found she’d been crying the entire journey. Their carefree lives might never be the same again. It had taken Matilda years to be able to laugh and joke after James’s death. How would the events of the today shape their lives from this point onward?
She climbed out of the car and wiped her eyes as she saw Simon Browes with some administrative staff putting together a ResponStor temporary body-storage system. The car park was lit up by floodlights. She felt physically sick at the thought of all those dead bodies waiting to be processed. What the hell was wrong with her?
‘Nutwells delivered about half an hour ago,’ Simon said as she approached. He had his shirt sleeves rolled and his tie tucked inside his collar. ‘We had these at the Manchester bombing a couple of years back, remember? We’ll have them up in fifteen minutes. Each unit can fit twelve bodies and we’ve been sent five. I’m hoping it’s enough.’
‘Really? What do you know about this third shooting?’
‘Not much so far. Apparently, the gunman burst his way into a school and opened fire. He even had a home-made bomb that he set off.’
‘Bloody hell. Please tell me they’ve caught him.’
‘I’ve no idea. Lucy took the call. I’ve got a few technicians going out to the scene, and we’re manning the fort here until they can bring them back. Hopefully, we’ll be up and running by then. It doesn’t help it’s the middle of winter and the fridges are already stocked with flu victims. Adele, you couldn’t give us a hand with these units, could you? I don’t know Sheffield, so I don’t know how long it’ll take to get the bodies here from Stannington.’
‘Yes. I’ll just go and get changed into… Hang on, did you say Stannington?’
‘Yes. That’s where the third shooting was.’
Adele paled. She reached out and placed a hand on Simon’s arm to steady herself. ‘A school at Stannington?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was the name of the school?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, Lucy took the call. It’s a secondary school though, so I’m guessing they’ll be young teenagers and—’
Adele didn’t wait for him to finish. She headed for the doors, pushed them open and practically fell into the warm building.
The corridors leading to the main post-mortem suites were lined with trolleys, most of them occupied. Simon was wrong; he had to be. Like he said, he didn’t know Sheffield. There were several schools in Stannington. It wouldn’t be the one Chris worked at.
‘Lucy,’ she called out.
She pulled open a door and went down the narrow corridor towards the digital autopsy suite. Claire was inside, analysing the results on her computer monitors.
‘Claire, have you seen Lucy?’
Claire turned and immediately burst into tears. ‘Oh God, Adele, I’m so sorry.’
‘Wha…?’
The look on Claire’s face said it all.
Adele fell against the wall and collapsed to the floor.
She came round to find Claire and Lucy standing over her, looking down at her with worried expressions.
‘Here, drink this.’ Lucy proffered a plastic cup of water.
‘What’s happened? What’s going on? Chris?’ Adele panicked as she tried to sit up. ‘Where am I?’
‘Adele, calm down,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re in your office. You fainted, that’s all. You’re fine.’
Adele’s eyes darted rapidly around her. She was indeed in the small space she laughingly called her office, but it looked strange, alien. It was a cramped off-shot room, full of textbooks, charts and files. The work seemed to be never-ending. She often came in here for some alone time after a particularly challenging post-mortem, but right now she felt claustrophobic.
‘Chris? Where’s Chris?’
L
ucy and Claire exchanged an awkward glance.
‘Oh my God, no. Please, no,’ Adele cried.
‘Adele, we don’t know anything yet. All we know is that there was a shooting at Stannington Secondary School,’ Lucy said slowly. There were tears in her eyes and a catch in her throat. ‘We’ve been told there are many students dead, but we don’t know anything about any staff being killed.’
‘Where’s my bag? I need to call him. I need to make sure he’s all right. Will you both let go of me!’ she shouted as she scrambled in her bag. She shook them off her and retrieved her phone. ‘There’s a message,’ she said, looking at the screen. ‘Chris has left me a voicemail.’
With shaking fingers, Adele accessed her answer service and put it on speaker.
‘Mum, it’s me. There’s a shooting at the school. I’m inside with some of the students, but we’re hiding. I’ve called Scott and the police are outside. They’re trying to find a way to get us all out. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine. It’s just … if it isn’t, I want you to know that I couldn’t have asked for a better mum than you. You’ve been amazing. You brought me up on your own as well as working hard at a career. You’re a bloody superhero. I love you. I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love you, Mum.’
The silence in the small room when the message ended was heavy. All three women stood with tears streaming down their faces. None of them looked at one another.
Chris sounded nervous and scared. He was obviously trying to be confident in front of the students he was shielding, but the shaking of his voice was evidence of a man fearing for his life.
‘How long ago was that message left?’ Claire asked. Her voice was quiet and broken.
Adele looked down at her phone. ‘Just after half-past three. Should I call him?’ she asked, looking up at her colleagues with wet eyes.
‘If the police are in the building, then they’ve obviously got the gunman. It should be safe for you to call,’ Lucy said, giving her a comforting smile.
‘I will. I’ll ring him,’ she said, not making any effort to make the call.
