Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  The soft murmurs came from all directions. He could hear others discussing the details about the shooting in progress happening in real time two blocks away, guessing to who was behind the attack and how many were dead.

  Three dead outside—two police officers and one student, the Sniper thought to himself. But you’d never guess why we did it. He grinned as he kept walking, keeping a lookout for police activity.

  “One can only imagine the carnage inside with nowhere to run,” the Sniper overhead someone say as they stared at the television screen.

  Pulling his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, he slid them over his eyes with pride blooming across his broad chest. No one paid him any attention. All the authorities were responding to the school. He was invisible. His secret safe—at least for the time being.

  Stiff-arming the glass double door entrance, he exited the building and scampered down the front steps, coming to a stop near the street curb.

  Swiveling his head on his shoulders, he watched with bewilderment as the sidewalks filled with curious civilians all heading in one direction. It seemed that everyone’s initial intuition was to run toward the danger rather than flee it. Tilting his head to the side, the Sniper took note of the behavior, promising to remember for a later time.

  Stepping into traffic, he trudged across the street and worked himself into the crowd of people. What began as a trot quickly widened into something closer to a run. Zig-zagging their way closer to the school, he picked up his own pace once the familiar building was within sight.

  Breaking off from the crowd of people, the Sniper took refuge near a group of parents congregating beneath a lamp post. He joined them in staring at the front entrance on the north side of the school. He mimicked their expressions, looking on with the same wide, unblinking eyes as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

  He prided himself on being a master of disguise. Related it to the soldier’s camouflage that kept him hidden in battle. It was an easy way to move undetected, take pride in his work, and hear firsthand what kind of reaction his work elicited.

  It was almost boring, he thought as he looked around at everyone pressing their cellphones to their ears. He was quick to remind himself that this was only the beginning of what was to come—and that gave him purpose.

  Picking up his feet, he wanted to get closer.

  Terrified faces were everywhere. It was impossible to decipher the good from the bad. As police officers treated innocent subjects as suspects, no one knew how many shooters there were or if there was more carnage to come. It was all going as planned and he could only assume the soldier inside was still fighting a good fight.

  Weaving between parked cars, he struggled to keep himself from smiling.

  They thought it couldn’t happen here, wouldn’t happen to them. They were wrong. For those who had forgotten what happened so long ago, they would soon be reminded that the seed that had been planted long ago had finally grown into something big and dangerous.

  The Sniper shortened his stride when coming within sight of the police cruiser first to arrive on scene. His gaze flicked to the dark stains on the pavement where he’d taken out his intended targets. Though the bodies were now gone, he knew with absolute certainty they were dead.

  Turning around, he faced the road.

  A line of media vans and reporters trampled the grass, spouting off live updates as they unfolded. Gripping his guitar case tighter, he lowered his brow and headed straight toward them.

  Chapter Four

  Allison Doyle was busy tapping away on her keyboard when her Chief of Operations, Patty O’Neil, interrupted. “Allison, do you have a minute?”

  Sweeping her gaze away from her monitor, Allison was quick to notice the concern lining Patty’s face. “Everything all right?”

  Patty bit her cheek and swallowed. “I think it’s best if you see it for yourself.”

  Allison cleared her throat and pushed back from her desk. Standing firmly on two feet, she followed Patty across the hall and into her office. Patty’s two large computer monitors lit up the dim back corner of the room and Allison drew her brows together with intense curiosity.

  Patty lowered herself into her chair and said, “I was monitoring Philip Price’s account when I came across this.”

  Allison stared into Patty’s round eyes for a split second before bending at the waist. Leaning in to take a closer look at what Patty was bringing to her attention, her eyes began scanning the comments below their advertisement.

  Allison’s shoulders tightened and she didn’t know what to say.

  It appeared their message had gotten lost. What had started on sound policy quickly deteriorated into a heated debate on immigration and the need for racial division.

  Allison rubbed her brow as she thought through her options.

  Philip Price was one of their best clients and currently making a run for the governor’s office. He certainly wouldn’t like the way people were responding to his ad with the election just around the corner.

  Allison flicked her gaze to Patty. “We have to put out these fires by deleting these comments.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t keep up,” Patty said.

  Allison continued scrolling down. She felt her stomach flutter when someone turned the conversation to blaming the media for spreading lies. Instantly, Allison’s mind turned to her friend, Samantha Bell.

  “Then we temporarily suspend Price’s online campaigns until this stops.” Allison kept reading as she spoke. Both women knew that stopping any advertisements with the election so close wouldn’t go over well with their client, but they saw no other choice.

  The hairs on Allison’s neck lifted further with each word. A dozen more comments poured in and there seemed to be no end in sight. “What is this everyone is talking about?” She turned to look at Patty. “A school shooting?”

  Patty shook her head and shrugged.

  “Turn on the TV.”

  Patty reached for the remote, pointed it at the screen hanging on the opposite wall, and clicked it on. The screen flashed as she clicked through the channels before landing on a local news station.

  They both felt their throats close as they couldn’t believe the breaking news.

  Allison cast her gaze back to the computer monitor. “Look at this.” She pointed. “Apparently, someone is airing live from within the school.”

  Allison hovered her finger over her mouse, debating whether or not to click the link. Did she really need to see the terror live? Her imagination could surely fill in the gaps. She would have let it pass if it weren’t for the fact that the link to the live newsfeed was on her company’s advertisement. She finally clicked, knowing she wouldn’t be able to un-see whatever came next.

  A new webpage opened and a live Facebook video streamed.

  Allison felt her lungs stop working as the office suddenly went completely silent.

  The video was dark, a bit grainy, but both women knew what it was they were seeing. Not long into the video, the women shared a look. Neither of them could believe their eyes. The gunman inside the school was recording his own massacre.

  “I can’t watch.” Patty turned away and dropped her head into her hand.

  Knowing Sam’s son, Mason, attended North High, Allison didn’t want to look away but knew she had to call her friend. Running across the hall, Allison retrieved her cellphone and was about to call Sam when Patty began screaming.

  “He showed his face. The sick bastard is showing his face.”

  Allison sprinted back into Patty’s office and dug her heels in when seeing the shooter’s face for the first time. When she covered her mouth with her hand, she felt her chin trembling.

  “You thought you could push me around. Well, today, I’m here to tell you that you can’t,” the shooter said into the camera. “You people thought this school was yours. You treated the halls like they were yours to be taxed. Remember my face because I’m not inferior like you made me out to be.” Screams filled the spea
kers. The shooter looked up before turning the camera back on himself. “Well, I’m here to tell you that we are superior, the chosen race, and your day of reckoning is upon you.” He pointed his handgun to the ceiling and fired off two shots, aiming the third inside a classroom full of students.

  Chapter Five

  Every drop of hot blood left my knuckles as I clutched my smartphone tightly inside the palm of my shaking hand. I was only speaking to Mason’s voicemail but, even then, I didn’t want to hang up.

  The air filled with shouts and orders being barked. Heavy boots pounded against the concrete as tactical units were put in place.

  I spun on a heel and felt my breath hitch.

  A man wearing a baseball cap caught my eye. His look of shock mirrored my own and we shared a silent message of reassurance. I wanted to tell him not to worry, that everything would be okay when I couldn’t even honestly convince myself it would be.

  A large SWAT van rumbled into position.

  The stranger broke our stare and looked toward the school.

  It was as if the same images of classrooms filled with students were running through both our minds. The thought of children running and screaming flashed behind my eyelids as a shot unexpectedly rang out.

  I ducked for cover and continued to stare at the school’s entrance.

  A mobile command unit buzzed with activity. Radios filled with chatter. And I kept praying for it to end. Suddenly, school fire alarms bellowed, echoing off the thick concrete walls.

  My heart panicked.

  If it weren’t chaotic enough already, now the police had to deal with that.

  A stream of students funneled out of the school faster than the authorities could handle. More screams and shouts, young faces crying and not knowing how to handle the intense flood of emotions that came with what they’d had to witness inside.

  With their hands held high in the air, they were being led out of the building by a line of cops in helmets, guns raised. Mild relief swept over me. I searched for Mason but, again, didn’t see him. My worry that something happened to him only grew.

  Whipping my head around, I glanced back to the man I’d shared a look with only a moment ago. He was gone. Looking everywhere, I couldn’t find him and couldn’t explain why I cared.

  A hand landed on my shoulder and my feet left the ground.

  I turned to see who it was and when I saw her glistening eyes looking down on me, I fell into her compassionate embrace like a tree toppling over.

  “Mason and King are still inside,” I told Erin, hearing my voice crack. “They were doing a school project together.”

  Erin palmed the back of my skull and squeezed me harder. She had an uncanny sense of always seeming to know where to find me and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

  “We’ll find them, Sam,” Erin said into my ear.

  I nodded into her shoulder, feeling the tears stream from my eyes.

  “King is trained for situations like this. If he is able, he’ll be the first to confront the shooter.”

  I pulled back and looked my friend in her eyes. “I don’t know if he has his gun with him.”

  Erin’s brow wrinkled before she pulled me against her chest. At a loss for words, we held each other as if believing somehow it would bring Mason and King out safely.

  When I heard a second round of students exit the building, I released Erin and turned to scan the horizon, hoping to find Mason. Bouncing my gaze from face to face, I held my breath, crossing my fingers for a little bit of luck. Then my heart sprang into my throat when I saw my son running with his hands held high in the air.

  Erin nudged me forward and I sprinted toward him, needing to feel his heart beat against my own just to convince myself he was in fact alive and this wasn’t a dream.

  Chapter Six

  My vision tunneled with a single mission as I pushed my way through three bystanders before swinging my arms wildly around a tight turn. Then I ducked beneath the barrier that kept me from getting to my son, adrenaline guiding my way.

  “Mason!” I yelled, waving my arms wildly above my head.

  I kept screaming until stealing his attention away from everything that was happening around him. The moment his eyes lifted and met with mine, he broke free from the pack.

  We ran toward each other as fast as we could, jumping into each other’s arms somewhere in the middle.

  Throwing my arms around him, I patted my hands over his back and down his arms, beyond grateful to know he’d survived something so horrific. Suddenly, I pulled back when my fingers brushed over a damp spot on his clothes. Lowering my gaze to his stomach I asked, “Is that blood?”

  Mason’s eyes puffed up and froze before beginning to cry.

  Pulling him in for another hug, I held on to him like I had when he was much younger. Rocking him back and forth, I glanced over his shoulder and kept searching for King. My stomach dropped with worry, afraid he was still inside.

  Mason shuddered in my arms.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step back to lead him away from the building.

  Mason tugged on my arm and stopped me mid-pursuit.

  “Mason, c’mon, we can’t stay here.” His look was enough to tell me something wasn’t right. “What is it?”

  “It’s Nolan.” His cheeks were wet with tears. “He’s still inside.”

  Closing the gap between us, I reached up to brush his tears away. “Is he okay?” Mason’s eyes drowned. “Were you with him?” When he didn’t respond, I said, “Mason, you have to tell me. I wasn’t inside. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Mason lowered his gaze to the ground and I watched as his lips curled and frowned. “Mom, he shot him.”

  Instantly, my heart shattered into a million pieces. My stomach fell to the floor and, for a moment, I was speechless. All I could see was a young man dead, sprawled out across a hallway floor.

  “Where is Alex, honey?” I asked, holding my breath and hoping that I would receive the answer I needed. “Were you with him?”

  Mason’s head hit my shoulder like a dead weight. I gripped the back of his skull as he murmured, “He’s with Nolan. Please tell me that Alex will be able to keep him alive.”

  Mixed emotions spiraled out of control. Parts of me were tense with agony, other parts loose with relief knowing that King was still alive and attending to Mason’s friend. Tipping my head back to the heavens, I closed my eyes and exhaled a deep breath of Colorado air and began praying.

  I dropped my chin when a male voice told us we had to step back.

  I acknowledged the officer and guided Mason to safety. All I wanted was to go home, take my son far away from here. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the school or the terror that had exploded here today. But King was still inside, and I, too, needed to feel his touch inside the palm of my hand.

  Afraid to let go of Mason’s hand, together we threaded our way through the parking lot until seeing Erin who was already busy working. I wasn’t surprised to see her interviewing students, parents, anybody she could get to go on record. As soon as she saw Mason and me coming, she broke away and came directly to us.

  “Mason, thank God, you’re okay.” Erin hugged my son. Then she turned to me and gave me a look that asked, Is he okay?

  I insisted Mason sit down on the curb’s edge before stepping out of his earshot. “What did you learn?” I asked Erin.

  “There seems to be a consensus that the shooter was a student. One person I interviewed thought maybe he graduated last year but, either way, everyone can agree that there was only one shooter involved.”

  I glanced back to Mason. “Why would anybody do this?”

  “Sam, there is something else I learned.”

  I rolled my neck back to Erin, arching a brow along the way.

  “Apparently, he recorded the entire episode on Facebook Live.”

  I folded one arm over my stomach and lifted the opposite hand to my face. The thought of having the world watch thi
s sicko act out his violent actions was enough to make me want to vomit. But, before I could do that, I heard my name being called.

  “Samantha Bell,” a TV news reporter called.

  As I watched the man approach, I felt a shell harden over me. Since Erin and I had solved The Lady Killer serial murder case only a week ago, I was starting to find my newfound celebrity more cumbersome than helpful.

  “Is that your son?” The reporter pointed to Mason as his cameramen struggled to keep up with his pursuit.

  I stepped in front of Mason, blocking his face from the cameras, and held up my palms in an attempt to get the reporter to hit the brakes and stop. I watched him shorten his stride and was again surprised by his bold request.

  “Let me interview him. Talk to you both,” he said.

  “Not today.” I grinded my teeth as I fought to remain polite.

  “Another day perhaps?”

  Erin turned to me. “You take Mason home and I’ll take care of this.”

  “Thank you, but with Alex still inside—” I wouldn’t finish my thought.

  Erin’s brows knitted as she locked her eyes with mine.

  “Mason’s friend was shot. I think Alex is with him.”

  Erin shoved a hand through her hair and cursed. “Okay then.” She glanced back to the reporter. “But I still have something I need to say to this asshole.”

  I grinned and watched Erin march straight up to the reporter, berating him for his bad judgement and disgraceful professionalism. Turning to Mason, he was still staring up at me. A part of me told me to wait for King, but with reporters now trying to take advantage of both Mason’s and my relationship to the school, I knew I needed to get him out of here as soon as possible.

  As if reading my mind, Mason stood and stepped toward me with shoulders rolled back and head held high. I watched with increased curiosity as the crease between his brows deepened into something serious.