by H. D. Gordon
Her sister’s face was the first thing she saw, but it took Claire a moment to realize it was Nikki. She had never seen Nikki’s face look the way it did now. Nikki’s eyes were bloodshot and watery, her cheeks streaked with tear tracks and her golden-brown hair hung sloppily on her head. When she saw that Claire had opened her eyes, an almost agonized look of relief flooded her features, and bits and pieces of memories started flooding back to Claire.
Hair like a raven, eyes silver-blue, pills, the pills, the blood on the pills, I was shot, I was shot…I’m in the hospital…I’m alive…the baby!
No words at all came to Claire. She was afraid if she opened her mouth to let them out, the words would catch in her throat like thorns and force the tears out of her. She began to cry nonetheless, sobs wracking her body so hard that her stomach ached and her chest burned and the pain in her left shoulder and right leg flared red and hot and ugly. Her sister cried, too. Nikki hugged Claire tightly, and Claire gave the pain this caused no mind. Her sister was here. Nikki was here, and Claire was alive. Everything was awful, yes, but everything was going to be all right.
At some point, the crying ceased and Nikki pulled herself from Claire’s arms. Claire opened her mouth to speak, unsure as to just what she was going to say, but her sister beat her to the punch.
Nikki held up a hand. “First, I love you,” she said, her voice scratchy and uneven. “I love you more than anything else on this earth. Thank God someone else killed that sonofabitch that put you here because Claire, I swear to God if he had killed you, I would have hunted him down and skinned him and…well, never mind, the point is, I almost lost you today, Claire. And just what the fuck would I have done then? Seriously, what the fuck would I have done?”
Nikki broke into tears again, and her voice hitched and hiccupped and cracked. She took a few deep breaths and clenched her teeth together to get her words out. “You’re here now and you’re okay and that’s all that matters. I was the first person listed on your emergency contacts, and Mom is on her way here now.” Nikki held up a bottle of pills, and Claire’s physical pain was overshadowed by the aching in her heart.
“They gave me these, Claire, when they gave me your personal belongings,” Nikki said, and she shook the pill bottle to make a point. “Just what the fuck are these for? I checked what was inside, and the mixture in this bottle is deadly.” Nikki gave her sister a hard, hurt look. “Don’t lie to me, because I’m only gonna ask you once. You were planning on committing suicide, weren’t you?”
Claire nodded. Nikki looked very much as though she wanted to punch her in face and hug her again at the same time. Claire felt a smile pull up her lips and more warm tears run down her cheeks. She loved Nikki more than anything in the world, too. She was almost overwhelmingly grateful to get to see Nikki’s face. Claire was grateful for the air she was breathing. She had come so very close to death. So very close. And despite all the issues that still needed addressing in her life, she was genuinely happy to be alive.
Nikki grabbed some tissues and tossed a couple at Claire. “Is it because you’re pregnant and you didn’t want to have to tell Mom about it?” she asked.
Claire’s heart sank a little. Her voice was small and weak when she spoke. “That was part of it.”
Nikki sat down next to Claire on the hospital bed. She sighed and brushed some of Claire’s hair off her forehead. “Okay,” she said, “So I’m going to take that ‘was’ as past-tense, as in, you are no longer on planning to kill yourself.” Nikki paused, raising her eyebrows at Claire.
Claire shook her head.
“You’re damn right you’re not, ya fucking asshole…sorry, that slipped out. Here’s the deal, I’m not going to tell Mom about the pills. Really, I blame myself anyhow, because I knew something was wrong with you and I chose not to push you too hard. Anyway, as long as you agree to therapy, and give me your word that you will never, ever consider no shit like that ever again. Deal?”
Claire nodded fervently.
“As far as the baby goes, that’s your choice, too. If you want to…to take care of it and don’t want to tell Mom, I’m fine with that. I’ll keep your secret. If you want to keep it and you want me to tell Mom, I’ll do that, too. I don’t have any problems with telling her where to shove it. None at all.”
Laughing and crying at the same time, Claire held her good arm out to her sister, and Nikki came forward to give her another hug. When they released each other, Claire said, “Thank you, Nikki. I swear to God you don’t have to worry about me trying to kill myself. I came real close…too close today.” Claire shuddered. “Never again. I’ll go to therapy. Hell, I bet I’m going to need it, but…”
“But what?” Nikki asked.
Taking a deep breath, Claire said, “I’ll tell Mom about the baby.”
Nikki gave Claire a small smile and nodded. “Okay, you tell Mom and I’ll jump in and punch her if she tries to make you feel like shit about it.”
They both laughed at that.
Not long after, a detective entered Claire’s hospital room and asked Claire if she felt well enough to answer a few questions. Nikki glared at the man as if he had just stepped on her rose garden, but Claire assured her she would be fine. After another daggered look at the detective, Nikki left the two of them and waited out in the hallway.
The detective, a tall, skinny man with a thick head of hair, sat in the chair beside Claire’s bed and pulled out a notepad and pen.
“Can you tell me happened?” he asked.
“I was shot,” Claire said.
The detective nodded slowly. “Did you see who shot you?”
“Yes. A white guy wearing all black. He had two guns, one in each hand. I was sitting on a bench and I heard, like, a BANG! BANG! and I thought, what the hell was that? And then I saw the guy on the sidewalk with the guns…He just…just started firing, and then I heard two more shots, and felt something hit me.”
The detective was scribbling frantically in his notebook. He looked up at Claire. “Then what happened?”
Claire thought about this for just a small moment. Should she say something about the girl with the raven hair and silver-blue eyes? An unexplained, resounding no! sounded off in her head. She decided she would think about that later.
She shook her head. “Then I passed out,” she said.
The detective gave her a look that was sympathetic, but underlined with a little disbelief. “You passed out?”
Claire nodded.
“Are you aware that there were two gunman at the University at the time of the shooting?”
Not gunman, Claire thought. Gunwoman, and if they’re looking for her, she probably doesn’t want to be found. Well, I won’t be the one to give her up. Fuck that. I owe her my life. A lot of people owe her their life. This may be the only way I ever get to thank her.
“I only saw one,” Claire said. “The one that shot me.”
Chapter Ninety-Three
Ruby
In a nursing home across town, an orderly entered a room where an old, frail woman sat in a chair by the window. Pillows were propped all around her small body; behind her back and head, under her legs, on her lap. Her hair sat in a silver, wispy cloud above her gray, glassy eyes. She stared out the window, watching the world beyond.
The orderly had just seen the old woman’s daughter on the news. Her daughter, Merion Gellar, had been shot dead today at the college university where she had been a professor. Upon walking in the room the orderly had planned on informing the old woman about her loss. He felt she had a right to know. But as he stood watching the old woman, he thought the information could do her no good. He left without saying a word.
At bedtime, the old woman was moved from her chair to her bed. No one in her family had thought to come and give her the news. They need not have, anyway. She already knew. She had known since Thursday. That night she lay staring at the white ceiling of her room, and tears rolled down the sides of her face and pooled in her ears. She thought abou
t drunks and fools and copperheads and Mondays and Meri. Mostly, she thought about her Meri. In the morning, another orderly found that she had passed away in her sleep, and made a comment about how it must have been a good way to go. The old woman had a small smile stuck on her withered lips.
Chapter Ninety-Four
Mina
Mina and her two boys waited at the hospital for Russell to get out of his surgery. Other detectives and police officers that worked with him had come and gone all day. They asked her about what had happened, and she told them about the shooter, about how Russell had taken a bullet for her son. She hugged her boys tight and cried about how close she had come to losing one of them. She prayed for Russell and thanked God for him and her boys and their lives. Davis cried, too. Dominic just sat with wide eyes, asking every ten minutes or so if Russell was going to be all right.
“He’s going to be fine,” she assured him. “The doctor said he would be fine. They just have to do surgery on his shoulder, that’s all. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”
It made her heart ache to see Dominic’s little face so scrunched up with concern. She could not bring herself to think about what would have happened if Russell hadn’t been there.
But he hadn’t been the only one. That girl, that girl with the black hair and strange eyes. She saved us, too. She saved all of us. Who knows how many people that madman would have killed if she hadn’t…what was she doing with a gun at school? Is it possible she somehow knew that guy was going to go crazy and start shooting people? Maybe she knew him. Maybe not. Hell, the reason I decided to go out with Russell was because I felt like I…well, I knew I was going to need him, and he took a bullet to save my son’s life. Maybe she brought a gun because she just felt like she was going to need it. Doesn’t matter. She’s a hero. She helped save my baby. She’s a hero either way.
And the police had asked her about the second shooter. You bet they had.
Her line of thinking on this matter paralleled a young woman’s named Claire.
Her response to the detective was, “I only saw one. He was the one aiming his guns at my son. Then Detective Remington tackled us to the ground to save my son’s life. I was too terrified to notice much else,” and she broke out into tears.
The detectives let her be after that, giving her sympathetic pats on the shoulder and appearing just slightly dubious.
Later, when he was out of surgery, and visitors were allowed into his room, Mina found out that Detective Remmington had told his buddies just about the same thing.
Chapter Ninety-Five
Lost Girl
In a hotel room near the Kansas City Airport, a woman in a canary-yellow dress sat on the edge of a bed. In her hand was the remote to the television. Her suitcase and purse sat on the floor beside the bed, her high heels discarded near them. The local news station was broadcasting a story about a shooting that had taken place earlier in the day.
Her carefully applied makeup ran down her cheeks, and her lipstick had been wiped away with tissues and salt water. She clutched herself around the mid-section and bent forward and cried. The lost-girl named Jodie cried.
Chapter Ninety-Six
Jenny
When Jenny got home that afternoon, she was seriously pissed off at her baby’s daddy. That loser had fussed and hollered about getting visitation with Ava, and he hadn’t even bothered to show up when he actually got it. She thanked God she hadn’t told Ava the truth about who he was. She hadn’t even told her where they had been going. Jenny had told her they had an appointment, because she had just known that Eric would pull some shit like this. Some people just never changed.
It wasn’t until later that evening that she got the news.
Eric’s mother called her and told her.
Then Jenny took her daughter into her arms and cried. And little Ava couldn’t understand why her mommy was so upset.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Michael
He had tried calling her, but Joe would not answer his calls. Michael wished so bad that she would just answer, so he could at least thank her for saving his life. He thought a lot about all the events of the past few days, and had come to some outlandish conclusions. Somehow, Joe had known that that guy Daniel was going to shoot up the school. How she had known was the question.
But in truth, none of that mattered. If he got the chance to talk to her, Michael would not bombard her with questions or accusations. He wouldn’t ask a single thing. He would thank her and…kiss her, if she let him. However, after a few days passed by without her returning his calls, he realized the chances of that happening were slim to none.
On Friday, he decided he would go see her the next day. Michael knew where she lived, and there was some place he thought he should take her.
And the police had questioned him, as well. His story had been just about the same as all the others.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Thank you
On Saturday, a candle–lit vigil was held in the area known as the Quad on the main campus of the University of Midwestern Missouri State. Over fifteen thousand people showed up to say prayers and remember those who were lost. The night was warm and the stars were twinkling in the black sky. Candles provided the only light, and their tiny, flickering flames filled the large box created by the surrounding stone buildings. They wore t-shirts with UMMS printed on the front and a jaguar printed on the back. They brought flowers and sang songs and held hands and hugged each other and cried. Everyone cried.
It was bitterly beautiful thing.
A raven-haired girl by the name of Joe stood among them with a handsome boy named Michael standing at her side. Michael had shown up at Joe’s apartment, suffered through a death threat from an old man named Mr. Landry, and asked her simply if she would attend the vigil with him. Joe had opened the door then, shooed Mr. Landry away with a smile and a subtle nod, and told Michael she would go.
Michael had not been expecting her to agree, but she had. For John.
They stood under the stars that night, and Michael kept to his word and asked her no questions. Joe offered no answers, either. They just held each other’s hand and cried together. And that was kind of beautiful, too.
At the very end, as people were starting to trickle back to their cars, Michael took Joe in his arms and held her tight. He was delighted when she hugged him back, and he whispered, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
This brought fresh tears to her lovely silver-blue eyes, and she hugged him tighter.
Not far away, a pretty girl named Claire sat in a wheelchair, watching the two of them. Even from where she sat Claire recognized the girl with hair black like a raven. She recognized the silver-blue of her eyes and the silent way the girl radiated beauty. Claire tugged on her sister’s jacket to get her attention. Nikki bent down and Claire whispered something in her ear. A moment later, Nikki was wheeling her sister over to where Joe and Michael stood in each other’s arms.
“Excuse me,” Claire said when she reached them.
Joe turned and looked at the girl, her silver-blue eyes flashing with guilt and pain as she took in Claire’s injuries. Claire reached out and took Joe’s hand into her own.
“Thank you,” Claire said quietly. “Thank you so much.”
Nikki came forward and pulled Joe into a tight hug. Then she pulled back and kissed her on her cheek. She thanked her, too.
While this was happening, Mina was not far away. Russell and her boys were standing with her. They were all watching the little group of people around the girl with black hair and stunning eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, they decided to approach her as well.
They embraced Joe with no invitation, just as Nikki had done, and whispered their thanks in her ear.
Then they all cried together, each survivors of a terrible event, people who had walked the Shadow Lands together and come to some strange, mutual understanding without ever even knowing each other’s names. Many things between them went unspoken that night, but
thanks was not one of them. And the tears they shed together were sad, yes, but they may have been born of a bit of joy as well.
And that was a bitterly beautiful thing, too.
Afterword
Joe
I close the notebook in which I’m writing and place it on the nightstand beside the bed. The story is finished. I have no more to add and nothing left to do. Mr. Landry had told me that writing it all out might give me some closure, and I’m starting to believe he is right. It had been difficult to put the words down on paper, and reliving it through the writing had not been pleasant most of the time. But now that it’s done, the poison of it all spilled out across the pages of my notebook, I do feel better. And it’s about time. I’m beginning to get cabin fever. Literally.
Stepping outside of Aunt Susan’s cabin, I stand by the lake and watch the moon shimmer off its surface. Soon it will be time to leave this peaceful place and take my strange spot back in the real world. I have cried all the tears I have to cry and put to paper all of the terrible things that have plagued my mind for the past few months. There is no way to be sure, but I feel that tonight will yield the last tears I will ever shed for the thing that happened at UMMS. Tonight, I will finally bury it all in that deep hole inside of me and forget I put it there. I am turning out to be a fine soldier after all.
Before I go to bed, I toss the notebook and all the poison between its pages into the fireplace and watch it until it burns into ashes that come morning will be dead and cold. As the flames in the fire die out I make my way into the bedroom. While brushing my teeth, a dreaded feeling floods through me, and something horrible happens next.
My left hand begins to itch and throb.
