by Nye, Laine
“Head for the small staircase very slowly.” He said.
It was a young woman at the front of the line. She was large, overweight and was the most anxious of all the hostages. When she reached the glass door and stepped through, she immediately saw the SWAT team members up against the wall with their guns trained on the door. Some were down low. A couple of them were standing on stools to be up high while another stood at normal height. When the nervous woman spotted them in her peripheral vision she screamed, jumped and turned toward them with all her fingers in her mouth. She was running in place as she wailed.
The gunman reacted instantly. “I know you’re out there. Do anything. Anything at all and I set off the bomb.”
The team member in charge motioned and the team backed away from their positions. “All right.” The leader said.
“Back off. Lower your weapons or we all die. No one will live including you.” That was debatable about them dying behind the wall when the explosion went off, but they were not there to watch others get blown to pieces. They lowered their weapons. “All right.” The leader said. We are neutralized. Don’t harm these people. We are not a threat to you now.”
The group continued to emerge from the conference room slowly. More people were sobbing. As they turned toward the stairway next to the elevator and adjacent to the SWAT team, Brad and his son came through followed by a few of the remaining hostages. The gunman came through on the opposite side from the police. He was bobbing, weaving, ducking. An impossible target to the SWAT team without potentially shooting someone else. At the door to the stairwell there was hesitation about going through the door as if they knew they were drawing nearer to their death.
“Open it.” Yelled the bouncing dodging gunman. “Go down.”
The nervous woman went through. The others began to follow her down the steps slowly, all still tied to the rope. The gunman had moved up from the end of the group, no longer behind the detective who had not yet made a move. The gunman was watching everyone closely. If The gunman had remained in the back of the line he could have been easily shot by a SWAT team member. The gunman was passing Brad and his son who were already on the landing and starting down. The first part of the group had reached the lower landing and were doubling back and going down the second half of the stairway. Brad and Steve followed reluctantly. They all did. The first six people at the front of the line were on the lower stairs when Steve made his move.
Brad felt energy coming from his son. He knew what it meant. Steve had started an attack, and everyone could die from it. “No.” Brad yelled at his son risking being shot for the warning, but it was too late.
The gunman was suddenly repelled from the steps and thrown forward and upside down. He slammed into the wall above the heads of those on the landing. There was a loud exhalation of breath from the impact. He hung there, upside down, dazed. But he had practiced his plan so many times that without thinking his thumb moved automatically toward the button that was still tightly in his grip.
That’s when Brad’s instinct kicked in like it always did in life threatening situations. He launched the gunman off the wall still upside down having to use more forced gravity than his son was using to keep him pinned there. That took an incredible level of energy to overcome his son’s power. He tried to send the gunman down the second flight of stairs over the heads of those at the lower stairs. But the Gunman slammed into the heads of the victims knocking them off balance. They would have fallen if not for the rope anchor tying everyone together. They began screaming. The bomber was thrown into the closed door at the bottom. Unlike Steve who did not have to be looking where he was using his g-force, Brad had to lean over the stair rail to continue to get a visual on the bomber, so he could continue using his gravity control. The bomber slammed into the crash bar on the door. The door burst open and the gunman was propelled through the door, Brad had already started slamming the door shut and forcing everyone on the lower flight off their feet, down onto the steps. It was a multi-step maneuver unlike any he had ever made.
There was a thundering loud explosion. The door was blown out of its frame and was hurled at the people who were laying on the lower stairs slamming into them and then tumbling up the stairs or rather up the people from the momentum, to those on the landing. Several injuries occurred because of the door. However, the debris from the explosion was slowed by the impact with the door. The damage to the people was from the door slamming into them and from the flying debris that hit them when the door was knocked loose. There were multiple injuries from the debris as well. The screaming was deafening in the concrete stairwell. The SWAT team members who had been waiting on the first floor were blown off their feet, but their Kevlar suits and helmets protected them. Brad and Steve were unharmed. The detective had his gun out as if he had expected to shoot the gunman while the bomber was hanging upside down on the wall. He was totally mystified as to what had just happened. His mouth hung open in shock as he looked at Brad. Smoke from the explosion filled the stairwell and the first floor. Most were starting to choke on it. No fresh air to be had.
There was considerable noise from the group. Most were still screaming between the coughing. The injured ones were moaning. Things finally started to quiet down. Everybody’s ears were ringing and would continue to do so the rest of the day. The rope was removed from the uninjured ones by the SWAT team. The injured had their rope carefully cut off them. Then the injured were taken out of the stairwell by ambulance drivers and paramedics who were already at the site waiting for the outcome of the drama- so they could rush in as the first responders.
The rest of the group were directed back up the stairs and over to the main stairway to keep them away from the horrors of the blast zone and the gunman’s body parts that were strewn all over the large room.
All the windows on the first floor were blown out by the shock wave. Book shelves were tipped over. Hundreds of books were strewn around the room. Many of them had gore from the gunman’s body as did the door that had been blown off its hinges and tumbled up the people on the stairs. Each of the group who had been uninjured were directed to waiting ambulances to be checked out and be given smoke inhalation treatment. Those who took in too much smoke were also taken to the hospital. Of course, those who had been victims of the blast radius had already gone. Still others were being stabilized so they could be transported. Police were trying to interview those who remained to find out what happened to the gunman. Everyone was confused about that. Everyone except Brad and Steve. They acted just as confused as the others. Brad and Steve were in the back of an ambulance getting oxygen.
There were cameramen and reporters everywhere. They had all been waiting for the out-come, so they could tell the story on the news. They filmed into the backs of the ambulances to get victim interviews until the police chased them off. Then they would return when the police left. The bomb squad went into the library to start their investigation while a separate team looked for more explosives as a precaution. The FBI showed up and started their investigation taking charge of the entire process.
Charlene had finally sat down at their computer and saw a report about the bombing at the library. With a pounding heart, she ran to the T.V. to see the live news. Almost immediately she saw her husband Brad and then her son Steve in the back of an ambulance. They appeared to be unhurt though they were wearing oxygen masks. Then she saw other footage of them coming out of the library. Relief flooded over her as she wondered what role her son and husband may have played since they had their unique abilities. Didn’t think they would have remained inactive during a crisis where they could intervene. She began to cry softly with the emotions that come from such an event knowing that her loved ones could have died. She knew that many hours would pass before she saw her family. They would be interviewed by all the different law enforcement agencies that were on sight before they would be allowed to come home. She waited throughout the evening and into the night for their return.
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Brad wanted to chide Steve, scold him but he was afraid to do so for fear that his son would begin feeling guilty for all the injuries that had been suffered. Brad’s plan had been to wait until they were outside then throw the gunman all the way up onto the roof of the library since the bomber wasn’t tied in to the group with rope. He had also considered taking all the people up to the roof leaving the gunman fully exposed to a hail of bullets. But he knew that his plan may have been extremely risky just as his son’s plan had been. He also knew that such actions in front of so many witnesses would cause a full-blown investigation as to how such a thing could happen. His son’s impulsiveness may have just saved all these lives; With Brad’s help of course. Yet, some of the injuries that were suffered due to Steve’s decision were grievous in Brad’s thinking.
Brad maintained a lot of self-restraint by not criticizing his son. He was irritated that he had taken matters into his own hands. Thought it was too dangerous of a maneuver. He most certainly did not want his son to ever feel guilty the way Brad did after the death of Milo Weathers who had been crushed to death by the intense gravity Brad had put under him. He didn’t want his son to ever experience the taking of a life and felt that on that day, his son might well feel responsible for the gunman’s death and all the injuries suffered. He didn’t think he should push the issue right then. His son had been through enough. Brad saw that Steve’s hands were still shaking. Then Steve took his oxygen mask off and spoke in a subdued voice.
“Is it my fault they got hurt?”
The moment of truth.
“It’s the bomber’s fault they got hurt.” Brad deferred.
“Yeah but, I forced him into the wall.”
“You were trying to defend all of us, son.”
“Did I do it right?”
Brad sighed. “I don’t know son. What was your plan?”
“I thought that slamming him into the wall would knock him out or something. But, it didn’t.”
“Did you have any other ideas when that didn’t work?”
“Well, I was kind of shocked that he stayed awake as hard as I threw him so, I just kind of froze. But then I thought that since he was upside down, I would just drop him on his head. Would that have worked, you think?”
“His thumb was closing on the bomb trigger even while he was upside down, slammed into the wall and practically surprised out of his life. He must have trained to do this a thousand times so that even under the most bizarre situation he could have faced, he was still going to push the button. It was an automatic response.”
“So, you sent him down the stairs.” Steve stated with certainty.
“Yeah. I had to do something quick or you and I would have been dead.” Brad wasn’t going to hide from the truth to try to protect his son’s mental well-being. Not because he did not want to do so, but because he knew that his son was very smart. Very sharp. Steve would figure things out later his father may have tried to hide from him through lies and evasion. That could only make things worse for his son and possibly ruin Steve’s trust in his father. Damage their relationship. Brad had to tell him the truth, but he would still try to pad his answers in such a way that his son might not suffer emotionally any more than he already would. Brad’s heart ached for his son. His own experience with Milo Weathers and Mac Rowley had been very damaging for Brad.
Steve looked like he was going to cry.
“That guy died. All those people were hurt. I just need to know if it was my fault.”
“That guy was going to die today one way or another. If not by the bomb exploding, it would have been the police shooting him. His life was over today, and he knew it. It’s how he wanted it.”
“Those people, all of us could have died with him. They were hurt pretty bad.” Steve said thoughtfully.
Yes. Some were. But not all. Look at how many were saved, including us.”
“Because you sent him through the door and slammed it shut.”
“Now that we have talked this over, I have come-to the conclusion that we acted as a team, Steve. Father and son against the bad guy.”
“It took both of us didn’t it?” Steve stated more than asked. Relief was showing in his face.
“Yes son. It took both of us. We won. The bad guy lost. We made a good team.”
In-spite of the trauma and fear and uncertainty, Steve looked at his father with tears in his eyes, but a smile on his mouth.
“Yeah. We did. That was good.”
“That’s right son. And those people that got hurt? I’ll bet you they are glad to be alive. Glad they get to go home to their loved ones.”
“Steve wiped his eyes, then nodded.
“And that’s a good thing.”
“Yup. Very good. Come on. Let’s see if they will let us go home now.”
Just then, the plain clothes detective that had been with them in the library stuck his head into the back of the ambulance they were sitting in.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you two. Father and son, huh? Dragged into this thing as family.” The detective stated flatly. “Tell me something guys. Did you have anything to do with the perp being thrown into the wall and down the stairs, etcetera?”
“Huh?” Brad questioned him with a confused look.
But the detective was used to people who played stupid, so they could appear innocent.
“Yeah. You know. That was a very strange thing back there, don’t you think?” He asked as he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the library. “I mean, you were the one who kept warning your son not to do anything.” He said pointing at Brad. Then, on the stairs, just before the bad guy launched upside down into the wall that was a dozen feet away, I heard you yell at your son. ‘No.’ It’s what you said isn’t it?”
Brad needed to deflect these questions. Give himself time to think.
“Why didn’t you pull your gun and shoot him? You had a couple of chances to make a move and you did nothing. I know. I watched you closely knowing you were a cop.”
“The detective stood there looking at Brad angrily. Then he smiled shook his head as if shrugging off Brad’s comments and went on with his line of reasoning.
“What I saw and heard leads me to think that both of you had something to do with what happened. I would like to hear your explanation.”
“We don’t have an explanation. We don’t know what happened? We would like an explanation as to why you didn’t try to save our lives. Why you didn’t shoot that animal when you had the chance.”
The detective’s face went hard. He ignored the accusatory questions aimed at him once again though they were provoking him. Then he spoke through gritted teeth.
“I felt the energy coming from you. Both of you. First him,” He said pointing at Steve. “Then you. Do you understand me now? I felt it and then all hell breaks loose when the bomber goes flying-through the air and down the stairs before the explosion. I. Felt. The. Energy. Coming from you two.”
Brad’s heart did a flip flop. Butterflies began tickling his stomach until it turned to pain from a clenched stomach. He had heard the same words before. They came from Linda Day’s mouth; That cute little woman back in Clearwater Florida who had known when Brad used the g-force at the moment that Milo Weathers was going to assault him.
Milo had instantly been lifted to the ceiling. Then Brad had walked away leaving him pinned there until Brad rounded a corner of the hallway and Milo fell to the floor breaking his arm. Linda had been standing just eight feet away and had witnessed the whole thing. She stated emphatically to Brad later that she knew he had been the one to lift Milo off the ground. ‘I felt it’ she told Brad. Just like that, his relationship with her was destroyed. She withdrew from him, fearing him. Then she moved away with her family. When Brad accidentally killed Milo, she heard about it and wrote to the school to tell them she suspected that Brad had killed Milo and told them why she believed it.
In the midst of all of Brad’s grief and guilt over the death
of Milo, she caused him intense stress when he was questioned by the school resource officer and the principal. It had almost been more than he could bear. Now, this cop was saying the same thing; ‘I felt the energy coming from you.’ Brad had taken too long to answer the detective and Steve was speechless. Brad recovered his momentary hesitation and looked the officer right in the eyes and spoke.
“You are saying that because you think that it will make us stumble and stutter, then admit what we supposedly did. That is a good cop technique, but it only works on the guilty. Officer I believe you have come here to deflect any suspicion away from yourself due to your inaction. I know that you will be questioned about your conduct during this siege. You should be looking to get us on your side, so we could help you. Defend you. But instead you try to defer any suspicion from your inactivity to us. Granted, something strange happened in the stairwell. No doubt. But stop blaming us. Unless you have a reason to charge us with a crime and arrest us, we are going to leave now.”
With that, Brad stood up, hunched over in the ambulance.
“Come on son. We are leaving mister imagination, so he can dream up more fantasies.”
Brad jumped out of the ambulance. Steve followed.
The detective turned following them with his eyes as they walked away.
“I felt it coming from both of you. This thing isn’t over.”
“Wanna bet?” Brad called over his shoulder. They continued-on to their car. They were stopped by other police and then the FBI, all who wanted to interview them.
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Brad was five-foot ten. He was strong for his size but did not look it as his body was slim. He didn’t have the cow lick on his forehead that had been there when he was a teenager. His hair was black. His brown eyes were kind, friendly. Brad was well liked by those who knew him. He was a conscientious father and very kind to his wife. Brad feared for his son’s mental well-being. He feared there could be nightmares and self- recrimination, deep placed trauma. What Brad did not know was that in the-not too distant future, his son would experience things worse than that day. Gravity control was a gift, and a curse. It was a means to protect but also to kill. Sometimes there was a fine line between the two.
