Union

by John Darryl Winston

  “But, Naz—”

  “Just do it, Ham.”

  “Ok.” Ham put his head down.

  Naz focused and summoned Ham’s thoughts. After a few minutes Naz wished he hadn’t, but he kept going. He forced himself to relive the day Ham got stabbed, the tragedy at the burning church house, and all the events that led to it but this time from Ham’s perspective. It was no less painful as Naz experienced Ham’s emotions rush in with his memories.

  Ham didn’t know what Roffio was going to do to Artie, had no knowledge of the booby-trapped screen door that electrocuted Meri, and that day at the church house he was going to leave the gang—if that was even possible. But he never got a chance. And something small in Ham lifted that day when Naz got his revenge. He was silently rooting for Naz but also understood Naz would likely always blame him.

  “Ham.”

  Ham looked up.

  “I’ll see you at school.”

  Ham nodded, and Naz turned and walked back the other way, taking a route to school that would not cross Ham’s. Naz wouldn’t pretend that everything was OK between him and Ham, not yet, not today. He had to shake off the emotions that just rattled his world and refocus on D. Although what he had learned from Ham did shine a different light on recent events, he was not yet ready to forgive Ham for his involvement in what ultimately ended up resulting in Meri’s murder. The only thing he got out of Ham was that Ham had nothing to do with D’s disappearance. But the one thing Naz was certain of was that whoever had D was really after him. He intended to make himself available.

  Naz arrived at Fears’ class just as the tardy bell rang and students were taking their seats. He made eye contact with Harvis, gave a slight upward nod and then took his seat.

  While spring was a time of joy for most, for Fears the mood was melancholy as it marked the end of basketball season. He sat at his desk doodling while students prepared the work he had outlined for them on the board: something about the benefits of physical activity—or was it the benefits of lifelong involvement in physical activity? Naz vaguely heard his name called as his eyes remained transfixed on what Fears had pinned to his bulletin board: D’s missing persons poster—somebody has her to get to me! He made fists that cracked the knuckles in both hands—when I catch you…

  “Mr. Andersen,” Fears bellowed for the second time.

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Would you like to go first?”

  “Not ready, Coach.” Naz pretended like he was writing in his notebook.

  “Anybody?” Fears scanned his classroom.

  Several students raised their hands. Suddenly something else caught Fears’ attention, and he turned his head to the side as if to listen.

  “Coach—” Soul blurted out.

  Fears put one of his huge hands up, silencing Soul.

  Everyone listened quietly.

  There it was again; what Fears had surrendered his attention to; the sound of firecrackers going off in the hallways. Just as Fears jumped into action, words from the principal, who almost never spoke on the intercom, sounded.

  “Lemonade sale today.”

  “Everyone up … against the wall.” Fears spoke in a voice Naz was unfamiliar with, a quiet voice that commanded a level of respect Naz also hadn’t witnessed.

  Fears pointed to the wall on which the door was located. The students moved quietly to it without hesitation. He directed them to sit in two rows up against the wall in a way that if someone were to look through the classroom’s door window, they wouldn’t be able to see the students—they had obviously rehearsed this. As an added measure, Fears pulled down the shade on the window of the door, a shade Naz didn’t even know existed until now.

  Naz looked at Harvis, who sat next to Ham and Soul in another row, several students away. Harvis returned his glance and shrugged.

  Fears stood tall and listened. All was quiet—until the firecrackers sounded again, only this time louder and followed by a shrill scream—no, screams and those aren’t firecrackers. Fears bent down in front of his students with one hand on his knee, pointed to the door with his other, and made deliberate eye contact with every student. “Nobody … and I mean nobody opens that door for any reason until you hear the all-clear sign. And do not use your phones under any circumstances.”

  All the students nodded. One of the girls giggled, and Fears quelled it with a look. He walked to the door and opened it quietly, head down, apparently concentrating. Fears locked the door from the inside, slipped outside the room, and slowly closed the door.

  Some of the students whispered and moved around but never left the area. Two girls cowered in the corner, crying while several other students tried to calm them down. Naz crawled over to Harvis, Soul, and Ham.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Naz looked at Harvis.

  “That’s right, you guys weren’t here when we practiced,” said Soul.

  “This is a lockdown drill … well, it’s not a drill. ‘Lemonade sale today’ was the code for a real lockdown,” said Ham.

  “Yeah, if an active shooter is in the building, this is what we’re supposed to do.” Soul nodded in the direction of the other students around them.

  “An active shooter? Those are gunshots?” asked Naz.

  “Duh.” Soul shook his head. “And Coach was supposed to be on lockdown, too. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

  More gunshots sounded, but even louder this time with glass shattering.

  “We gotta help Coach.” Harvis looked at Naz.

  Naz nodded. “I’ll go.”

  “We’ll all go,” said Soul.

  “Yeah, team.” Ham shook Soul’s hand.

  “No.” Harvis pushed their hands down. “Naz goes alone.”

  “What?” asked Soul.

  “You’re crazy.” Ham looked at Harvis.

  Naz walked to the door looking over his shoulder. “No … he’s not; he’s right,” Naz said, ignoring his classmate’s objections.

  When Ham and Soul stood to follow Naz, Harvis blocked their way.

  “Remember the church?” asked Harvis. “Let ’im do this.”

  They sat back down slowly as Naz unlocked the door, opened it, relocked it, and slipped into the hallway.

  The hallways were deserted. There were more shots fired and this time voices and laughter. Naz ran toward the fired shots. When he got to the end of the hallway, he peeked around the corner. He could see Fears looking around the next corner into the main hallway where the gunman or gunmen must have been located near the office. The hallways formed a square that created a perimeter around the school’s auditorium.

  “I’m an undercover narc and former Navy Seal,” Fear boomed. “Reinforcements have already been dispatched to this location. Surrender your weapons, or I will be compelled to use deadly force.”

  Navy Seal!? Coach must have a death wish. Fears fired a warning shot toward the assailants to make his case—where’d he get a gun? Maybe from … where’s Clature? They fired back with automatic weapons that shattered glass, ripped into metal lockers, and ricocheted off God knows what.

  Naz went back the other way. He tried the auditorium doors thinking he could cut through to the other side. They were locked. He thought about using M-cubed to unlock the door, but didn’t know where to start; He had never used his abilities to disable a lock. He could break the auditorium door’s window, but that would alert the assailants and even worse, Fears to his presence.

  Naz decided to go all the way around. At the end of the hallway, he stopped to get his bearings. He looked up—Natatorium. That’s where the swimming pool was, and Clature’s office was nearby. He made a dash for it only to find the door locked. He tapped it lightly. Clature peeked out. He grabbed Naz and pulled him inside.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked Clature in a forced whisper. “That crazy coach just left here. Everybody should be on lockdown.”

  “Everybody but you.” Naz spied the computer screens which now showed feeds of a deserted school buildi
ng save two gunmen dressed in black, firing large weapons at Fears who took cover in an adjacent hallway, armed with only a handgun. Naz’s brow furrowed.

  “I’m not going out there.” Clature tried to block Naz’s view of the screens.

  “But it’s your job.” Naz repositioned himself to see the screens again. His eyes trailed to the candid pictures on the wall only to find a picture of him and D—why does he have that?

  “Oh, no! They don’t pay me enough to go out there.” Clature blocked Naz’s view again.

  “Where’s your gun?” Naz tapped the side of his leg, already knowing the answer.

  “That crazy coach took it, and you’re in a lot of trouble, my man.”

  When Naz tried to leave, Clature grabbed his arm. Naz swung around, knocking the guard onto the desk, taking out one of the computer screens in the process.

  “Hey, Man,” complained Clature. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Naz pointed to Clature as he opened the door. “That’s my coach out there … coward!”

  Naz slipped back into the hallway. Between Fears talking and firing warning shots and the gunmen riddling the hallway with bullets, Naz didn’t need to be too quiet. He ran around the auditorium, staying close to the wall until he was on the other side. He peeked around the corner and saw the two men dressed in black cargo pants, flak jackets, and ski masks, their rifles pointing down the hallway in the direction Fears’ voice was coming from—now what? I guess disarm them and let Fears handle it.

  Naz flexed, and the automatic weapons the gunmen wielded flew out of their hands to the floor and slid in the direction of Fears. Fears peeked around the corner and demanded the men put their hands up high over their heads—Oh, that is a good idea, just in case they have more weapons stashed somewhere else. Naz flexed again making the men put their arms up.

  When Naz saw Fears step around the corner, he ducked out of sight—I hope he didn’t see me or I might have to end up telling him the truth. He thought about D and remembered what a bad idea that might be.

  Naz started back down the hallway then reconsidered. He would never take the vermin on the streets lightly again, and as far as he was concerned, this was, plain and simple, the worst of them. He stayed put until help came, which was about twenty minutes. Help was always a long time coming in the Exclave.

  When police officers arrived, they were all business; only they weren’t dressed like ordinary police officers. Like the perpetrators, they sported all black—only their jackets had the initials T.R.T. on the back of them. They treated Fears as one of the perps, keeping a gun trained on him as well until he put the gun he was holding on the floor. The principal came out of the office, and that was Naz’s cue. He hurried back to the classroom.

  When he got back, he realized he had a problem. How was he going to get back in the room before Fears returned? Fears had given his students explicit orders about opening the door, and when Fears gave his students orders, they followed them. He was hoping someone from the office gave the all-clear sign before Fears came around the corner.

  Naz tried knocking, to no avail. He tried calling Harvis’ and Soul’s name in a forced whisper and still no entry—what to do? Then he thought of the obvious, pulled out his phone, and sent Harvis a text.

  Let me in HURRY

  Seconds later there was the sound of scuffling inside the room followed by the door opening. Someone gave the all-clear sign over the intercom, and Naz slipped back inside. More students were crying while Soul and Ham had three boys pinned against the wall with whom they were exchanging expletives.

  “What happened in here?” said Naz.

  “Those idiots tried to stop me from letting you in.” Harvis nodded to the confrontation across the room. “Let ’em go.”

  “Looks like we’re gonna be in trouble anyway.” Naz closed and locked the door.

  “What else is new?” Harvis shrugged. “Well?”

  Naz nodded. Someone knocked. Naz looked at Harvis, sighed and then shook his head. “Here we go.”

  But it wasn’t Fears as Naz had anticipated. It was the principal, and she quelled everyone’s questions and concerns with two palms up facing out. She directed them back to their seats where they were to work in silence until Fears returned, which she said would be in a few minutes. She crossed her arms and stood stuffed in her pantsuit like an MP at the door. She eyed the students through wire-rimmed bifocals, ready for anyone that might attempt to challenge her orders. In what seemed like an hour later, Fears walked in, calm, cool, and collected.

  When the students started in, Fears silenced them with not only his giant hand but his booming voice as well. “For all of you who have phones, you may call your parents or guardians, inform them of the situation, and tell them they may pick you up. For those of you who do not have phones, you may use the classroom phone.”

  No one moved. Everyone pulled their phone out and started dialing. Fears gave Naz a look he couldn’t read, and he was tempted to summon Fears’ thoughts, but he didn’t dare. He put his head down instead, knowing he was in trouble. He sent a text to Mr. Tesla, letting him know he was OK, and that he was going home with Fears.

  Hands started shooting up all over the room. The boys who Ham and Soul held were the most frantic in the call to be heard.

  “Put your hands down,” Fears boomed.

  Sometimes it seemed Fears could read minds, at least the minds of his students as they grumbled. All but one student put their hands down: the student Ham had been holding.

  “Mr. Latimer,” said Fears. “My directive included you.”

  The lone student finally put his hand down.

  “Now, pull out a piece of paper,” Fears instructed. “You have a right to file a complaint with the proper authorities about whatever happened in this room while I was gone, this whole abbreviated day for that matter. Make sure you print and sign your name at the top and include the date, please.”

  The students continued grumbling and gossiping, while Fears took a call on his phone and stepped just outside the classroom.

  Ham continued to verbally threaten the boy he had been holding, while Soul seemed exhilarated by the whole experience.

  “You both need to calm down,” said Harvis.

  Fears returned after few minutes. “Hand me your paper before you leave. My guess is we won’t be having school for a few days, hopefully not too many days. Please take this time to have a dialogue about what happened here today with a parent, guardian, or other adult family member you trust. We will discuss it as a group when you return.”

  Students began to leave in small groups, some holding hands while others were still crying. A few handed Fears their papers. Fears read them right away. He looked up at Soul and Ham then continued reading. “Mr. Andersen, please see me after class.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  A boy with a ponytail handed Fears his paper. “Sir—”

  “Sir was my father’s name, Mr. Latimer.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Fears, but I don’t think it’s fair—”

  “Fair has nothing to do with it, Mr. Latimer. Emotions are high. I think it best we all go home and reflect. I have your paper?”

  The boy nodded, dropped his head, and left.

  Fears continued reading until all of the students had left—except Harvis, Soul, Ham, and Naz. Fears looked up at the four boys still sitting at their desks.

  “Any reason you three gentlemen are still here?” He looked at Harvis, Soul, and Ham deliberately.

  “We go home with you, Coach,” said Soul.

  “You asked Naz to stay, but we’re all in this together. I’m the reason he left the room, and I’m the one who opened the door to let him back in,” said Harvis.

  “And we helped ’em, Coach.” Ham stood up.

  Fears smiled and put his head down. “My guys, my guys … charming.” He stood up and paced to the back of the classroom. “I know you’re all involved. I didn’t have to read those papers to know that … and you will suffer the con
sequences of your actions … family, right?”

  They all nodded except Naz. He was waiting for the boom.

  “I guess I taught you well. Look, I need to talk to Andersen, alone. If you three stooges … young men could wait in the hallway until we’re done. I promise not to hurt him, but what I have to say is for his ears and his ears alone. ¿Lo entiendes?

  “What dat mean?” Soul headed for the door.

  “It means, ‘do you understand?’ Nice Spanish, Coach.” Ham joined Soul and Harvis, and they walked out.

  “I learned from the best,” said Fears as he closed the door behind the three.

  Fears sat on the desk next to Naz. Naz took note of the blank piece of paper he had subconsciously ripped out of his notebook.

  “So,” Fears started, “what do you have to say? Spit it out … I’m listening.”

  Naz shook his head.

  “That’s what I figured. Look, Son, I’m sorry about your girlfriend. I’m sure that everything is being done that can possibly be done.”

  Naz looked up as if to say, ‘Are you kidding.’

  “I take that back,” said Fears. “I’ve always been straight with my guys, and the truth is, all we can do is hope for the best … pray, if you’re into that kinda thing, or as your father used to say, think positive, and it’ll all work itself out.” Fears got up and walked to the door.

  “I don’t know why you were in that hallway, as plain as day, peeping around that corner like you couldn’t be seen. What would’ve happened if those … those madmen would’ve turned around and saw you? Don’t you realize that by leaving the classroom and then having Harvis open that door when you came back you put every one of your classmates’ lives in danger? You’re gonna have to answer for that, Son, and there’s no amount of strings or favors your pretty, rich psychiatrist or I can pull or call on to get you out of this one. You’re gonna have to face the music. This is beyond suspension. Do you know what happens when you get expelled from Union?”