Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  “Mom,” Mason said in a deepened tone, “I’m not leaving here without Nolan.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alex King kept both hands firmly pressed into the bullet wound of 16-year-old Nolan Dreiss. “You’re going to make it,” he told Nolan. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible. Stay with me, buddy.”

  The warm blood pulsed between his fingers as he watched Nolan’s breath shorten. King kept looking toward the school library entrance, hoping help would get to them soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer Nolan could hold on without receiving proper medical assistance.

  Nolan gasped as she struggled to swallow.

  “Help is on its way,” King said, maintaining eye contact with Nolan.

  King’s head pounded with worry as he wrestled with his own shortcomings. Regretting many things today, the first was one he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for.

  What was he thinking not keeping his department-issued handgun on him? At the time, the decision was easy to make. Seeing it more as a burden and potential risk, he decided it was safer to keep it out of the school rather than to bring it inside. But the biggest regret of all was not stopping the shooter before Nolan was shot.

  King noticed Nolan go quiet. He felt Nolan’s chest rise and fall. His pulse was weak, but he was still alive.

  Growing impatient, King flicked his gaze once again to the entrance. Where were they? What was taking them so long? As difficult as it was to admit, King knew in his heart that Nolan wasn’t the only one wounded in the attack. He was sure there were casualties as well.

  Darting his gaze around the library, the fire alarm lights flashing, he felt his heart break.

  Textbooks were left open on tabletops. Next to them, reports were being written and researched, homework getting done. An array of backpacks remained tucked beneath chairs or dropped on the floor. It looked like a stampede of cattle had ripped through here, leaving only himself and Nolan.

  “Where is Mason?” Nolan asked, his voice barely audible.

  King stared into Nolan’s eyes. “He went to get help.”

  Nolan wet his lips with his tongue. “You should have gone with him.”

  “He’s safe.” King’s throat collapsed with uncertainty in his statement. He hoped it was true but he couldn’t be sure. “The police are here. Mason was escorted to safety.”

  “Am I going to die?” Nolan’s eyes slowly shut.

  The sound of a hundred shoes pitter pattering their way through the halls grew faint as the police worked to clear each classroom currently on lockdown.

  Just as King was about to answer Nolan, he heard voices call out. Two paramedics arrived behind the protection of two officers. “Over here,” King answered back. Then he turned back to Nolan. “You’re going to make it.”

  King pulled back and let the paramedics work on Nolan. They loaded Nolan up on a gurney with King telling the young man that he was strong, a fighter. He planted his hands on his hips and quickly glanced down into his blood-soaked palms. Inside his head, he could still hear the gunshots popping off.

  Once Nolan was secured to the gurney, he held his hand out for King’s attention. “There is something else you need to know.”

  The paramedics pushed Nolan out of the library and down the hall. King kept pace, marching right alongside of them, knowing he wanted to stay with Nolan until the boy was safe.

  “You can tell me anything,” King said.

  Nolan’s hooded eyes locked on King’s, life suddenly returning to them. “Mason needs to know what the shooter said just before he shot me.”

  King’s brows wrinkled with interest. Nolan patted King’s hand and the detective tilted his head to the side, continuing to march quickly to the exit. Supporting himself with one hand on the gurney, he lowered his ear close to Nolan’s mouth, wondering if he had heard him correctly.

  “Say that again,” King requested.

  Nolan repeated his words exactly as he had stated them the first time.

  When King learned of the shooter’s secret, his entire body froze with disbelief.

  Chapter Eight

  “All I’m saying is that he was a better quarterback than he is a general manager.”

  Dr. Benjamin Firestone grinned and leaned closer to his date. “I’ll admit the Denver Broncos are having an off year, but the problem is not with John Elway.”

  Susan Young loved the way her new boyfriend’s eyes sparkled with passion when delving deep into a heated debate. He was quick, intellectual, and a sports fanatic. All very good qualities to her.

  Staring into his dark, coffee colored eyes, she said, “You would think that with his experience as a quarterback he would actually be able to draft a decent one.”

  “We had Peyton Manning, didn’t we?” Benjamin turned his palms up to the ceiling and fell back into his chair with his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  “Anyone in the league would be able to win with Manning.” Susan took the corner of her lip between her teeth and locked eyes with the man she desired.

  “I hate to say this, Susan, but you sound like a fair-weather fan.”

  Susan pinched her straw between her fingers and stirred the ice in her glass of tea. The early and unexpected lunch date Benjamin had surprised her with today was thrilling, even if she would have preferred a romantic night out on the town. His insane working hours, she was learning, meant she had to be flexible with her own if she wanted to make this relationship work.

  “You’re wrong,” she said.

  Benjamin’s eyebrows lifted high on his head.

  Susan held her gaze inside of his and murmured, “I’m a concerned fan, is all. I like to see my team win.”

  Benjamin cast his gaze to the table. Their vegetarian meal had been both artistic and delicious but Benjamin wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He picked up the menu and looked for dessert options. “Then I suppose I should find someone else to come to the game with me this Sunday?”

  Susan caught his eye as he peeked over the menu’s rim and arched a brow. “Who are they playing?”

  Benjamin dropped his head and laughed. “Only a fair-weather fan would care.”

  Susan tipped forward, perching an elbow on top of the table, and rested her chin inside her hand. “And a true fan, what would they do?”

  Benjamin looked her directly in the eye and said, “They would drop everything in order to attend the game.”

  Susan laughed.

  Then Benjamin said, “The New England Patriots.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Then I’m in.”

  “Tom Brady?”

  Susan wiggled her eyebrows, eliciting another gasp of disbelief from Benjamin. Without warning, Benjamin’s work pager went off. Susan watched him glance to his waist and her stomach dropped, knowing that their date had officially come to an end.

  “Is it important?” she asked, feeling her muscles slightly tense.

  Benjamin lifted his gaze and smiled. Hoping his answer was no, Susan held her breath as he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick call.”

  Susan leaned into his lips as he brushed them against her cheek when he stood. Hanging onto his hand, she didn’t want to let go, didn’t want their lunch to end yet. Benjamin’s fingertips slipped from her grasp and, the moment she was alone, she turned her gaze out the window and blew out a heavy sigh. Dating a doctor wasn’t easy, but she couldn’t deny how much she liked him.

  A minute passed and Susan glanced over her shoulder.

  Benjamin was still on his cellphone, his gaze pointed to the floor as he talked. She could tell by the look on his face that something was seriously wrong. The second he ended his call, she straightened her spine and brushed off her feelings of loss.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked when Benjamin returned to the table.

  “I’m afraid not.” He reached for Susan’s hand. “There’s been emergency and I’m needed at the hospital.”

  Susan tilted her head and gave him a questioning lo
ok. “I thought you just left.”

  He nodded. If he was being called back in after his overnight shift, this emergency was serious. “I promise to pick up where we left off as soon as I’m finished.”

  Susan nodded and squeezed his hand as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “Don’t worry about the tab, I’ll take care of that on my way out.”

  “No. You go. It sounds urgent. I’ll take care of the bill,” Susan insisted. When Benjamin pressed his thick lips against hers, Susan closed her eyes and felt her stomach flutter. Then Benjamin was off, hurrying to the exit at a quick clip.

  Susan twirled her hair between her fingers, trying not to let Benjamin’s sudden departure get to her. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t have a pile of work waiting for her back at the office. All things happened for a reason.

  Diving into her purse, Susan checked her cellphone out of habit. Having silenced it before sitting down for lunch, her heartrate spiked when she noticed a dozen missed calls from Allison, all since she’d arrived at the restaurant. Fearing something had happened, she called her friend back without taking the time to listen to her voicemail.

  “Susan, where are you?” Allison asked in a hurry. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

  Susan’s pulse pounded. “Having an early lunch with Benjamin. Why? What’s going on?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “There was a shooting at North High School and Sam is there with Mason now.”

  A sudden coldness hit Susan’s core. Words to express her feelings escaped her. Then she realized Benjamin’s emergency had to be related. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

  “Meet me at my office,” Allison said. “We’ll travel to Sam’s together.”

  Chapter Nine

  As I stared into my son’s eyes, I had only respect for him. This was what I had taught him to do. Be kind. Show respect. And remain loyal to those we loved.

  With watering eyes, I lifted my arms and hooked my hands on his shoulders. “Okay. We’ll stay and wait for Nolan.”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  Sliding my arm through the crook of his elbow, I led him to my car. Here, we were close enough to see what was happening at the school, yet far enough from the chaos to not get caught up in the tornado of activity.

  As the minutes passed, we didn’t say much but I kept a firm hold on his hand.

  It seemed like forever as we waited for something to happen. The snowflakes came and went, like the students who had made it out. And as I stood there staring at the school with my son, I prayed for Nolan, King, and the other students who might still be inside.

  Soon, a uniformed officer approached, encouraging all of us to go home.

  I gripped Mason’s hand tighter. Together, we watched the crowd disperse.

  The entire mood changed. The air grew colder and the sense of urgency from earlier had withered. When I asked what the officer knew, he only responded, “It’s best if we can have the area cleared.”

  Mason gave me a concerned look.

  I released his hand and approached the officer. After a quick introduction, I said, “Can you at least tell me if you have heard from Detective Alex King?”

  “The investigation is still ongoing. I’m afraid that’s all I can say at this time.”

  “Officer, last I heard, Detective King was assisting a wounded student, Nolan Dreiss. Can you please ask your superior officer if they have any information concerning those two men?” I glanced back to Mason. “I can’t leave here until I know that they are both okay.”

  The officer flicked his gaze to Mason before saying, “Mrs. Bell, off the record, I wish that I could tell you something, but we just don’t know at this time.”

  A stone lodged in my throat that I couldn’t work down. I wanted to keep my promise to Mason but we were losing control and daylight.

  “Now, please, go home,” the officer said. “If I happen to see Detective King, I’ll tell him you were looking for him.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. Spinning around to face Mason, I said, “We have to leave.”

  “Mom, but you promised.”

  “There is nothing I can do. The police need to do their job. It’s best we stay out of their way.” I marched to my car with a heavy heart. When I opened the door, Mason was still standing in the exact spot I’d left him. He looked defeated and broken and I felt like I had let him down. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

  Mason slouched in the passenger seat after buckling in. I cranked the engine and turned on the heat. “Why couldn’t he tell you anything?”

  “Protocol.”

  “Don’t they know who you are?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But they know if the shooter is dead or not. Why can’t they just tell you that much?”

  “They don’t want any misinformation to get leaked before they compile a report of what happened.”

  Mason sprang up. “A report of what happened?! I know what happened.”

  I watched my son breathe heavily through his nose, anger swirling in his young eyes. When I reached for his hand, he pulled away. I clenched my stomach, wishing I knew what to do. Inside, I was still crying but I fought to appear strong for my son.

  “One second I was in the library with Nolan, then next thing I knew I was coming out of the bathroom to the sound of gunfire.”

  I rolled my gaze over the hood and watched my vision blur. My bones quaked and it destroyed me to know that Mason would live with this memory for the rest of his life. It was the nightmare none of us wanted to experience.

  “We’ll find Nolan,” I murmured.

  “It should have been me. I should have been there with him.” Mason crumbled like an accordion into his seat.

  Fighting back the threat of tears, I put the car in gear and started to drive.

  I understood Mason wanting to blame himself—allowed him to begin his grieving process. Like me, he felt helpless to change the outcome of what happened. It was a noble idea to want to take a bullet for his friend, but I was so thankful that he hadn’t.

  By the time we arrived home, the snow had really started to come down. Mason kicked the car door open and scampered up the front steps, entering the house to an ecstatic yellow lab.

  When I stepped into the house myself, I checked Cooper’s water bowl before sticking my head into Mason’s room. He was already lying on his bed, hugging a pillow while curled up in the fetal position. Cooper was pressed up against his leg, staring at me, knowing that something wasn’t right.

  “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?” I asked Mason.

  Mason only shook his head.

  The home phone started ringing and I left to answer the call. It was my editor, Ryan Dawson. “Sam, how is he?”

  I turned toward Mason’s room and sighed. “Alive but not well.”

  “It’s horrific.”

  “His friend was one of the victims.”

  “Sweet Mary, Joseph.” Dawson sighed.

  “Last we heard, King was with him and he was alive, but that was hours ago.”

  “Anything I can do for you?”

  “Thanks, but there’s nothing you can do that I can’t do myself.”

  “Sam, I’m calling from your desk. We have to be out of this newsroom no later than tomorrow.”

  “Shit.” I closed my eyes and pushed my fingers through my hair, completely forgetting about The Colorado Times having to move offices because of the paper downsizing.

  “I can hear you have your hands full,” Dawson said. “Let me help by taking your stuff to the new office.”

  “Thank you but don’t bother. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Sam—”

  “Dawson, I’ll be there,” I said firmly. “I should be the one to tell today’s story.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  “Maybe not, but you know that’s what both of us need.”

&nb
sp; Dawson didn’t argue and said his goodbyes. Once we ended our conversation, I began making calls to hospitals across the Denver area with hopes of finding both Nolan and Alex.

  Chapter Ten

  Pastor Dwayne Michaels kneeled on both knees with his head bowed in prayer.

  His soft whispers swirled around his lean body as he sought guidance and strength during this time of tribulation. The news that had broken earlier today had been both unexpected and heartbreaking but with the son of God hanging over him, the pastor knew he wasn’t alone.

  Deep in meditation, the pastor looked for answers to the most difficult of life’s questions. They came to him in waves but one truth remained; this week of all weeks would be one to test his community’s resolve.

  With his eyes closed, bright lights flashed behind his lids. A variety of colors swirled inside his head like a kaleidoscope pointed into the light. Ignoring the sharp pain digging into his kneecaps from the hardwood floor, it felt like he was floating in air. His old knees had been through a lot over the years but he welcomed the agony and considered it a simple reminder that he, too, had chosen a life of sacrifice.

  His lips moved faster, his whispers growing louder.

  The pastor imagined himself inside the school. He could see students he knew and suppressed the growing resentment toward the evil person who’d set out to destroy so many lives.

  Then the entire church went silent.

  Pulled back to earth, the aging pastor tipped his head back and slowly opened his eyes. As difficult as it was to know that such evil existed in his city of birth, unfortunately this wasn’t the first hate crime the pastor had seen destroy his community.

  He found himself smiling at his savior hanging from the cross, enjoying a moment of peace.

  Pinching his expression, the pastor stood when noticing something peculiar. Needing a closer look, he extended his index finger and reached for Jesus’s cheek. He gasped and pulled away. Feeling the dampness on the tip of his finger, he couldn’t believe what he felt.

  Jesus was here, inside his church, weeping alongside him.