by Ali Franklin
Ryan and David bolted through the outside door into the sunlight. He pointed the gun left then right as he ran. The nearest officer, covering the line of sight on the north and east sides of the building, was thirty yards away.
David veered south toward Haverwood Boulevard. Ryan pulled against him, but his grasp was strong.
The deputies followed them out of the building shouting, “Freeze! Haverwood Sheriff’s Department!”
David stopped and turned toward them. Pulling Ryan close to his body, he waved the gun. The deputies hesitated. David started running again.
Ryan tried to pull away again and missed a step. She fell to the sidewalk in a heap.
David continued for a few steps, then turned and came back. “As much as I’d like to leave you here, you’re going to get me out of this.”
The deputies started running toward them again. David grabbed Ryan under the armpits, lifting her to her feet. He glanced at Haverwood Boulevard and wavered. The curb was lined with law enforcement vehicles.
He dragged her left toward the gate in the fence around the humanities building work site. They reached it and he pushed Ryan inside. He followed, then grabbed the open lock and threaded it through the inside of the latch.
Once they were behind the thick green sheeting lining the fence, David slowed. He still had a stronghold on Ryan’s arm, but his pace had lightened. They trotted toward the skeleton of the new building.
“David,” said Ryan. “Please don’t do this.”
He kept jogging until they were inside the steel and concrete framework. Then he abruptly stopped and leaned against a column. He released his grip and waved the gun at her.
“Don’t move.”
“David—”
“Shut up.” He let out a deep breath. “If you had just gotten them to resign when I told you to, none of this would have happened.”
Ryan gaped.
17
Nicki sprinted across the amphitheater lawn in response to the radio call. She met the team coming out of Squire just as David disappeared inside the gate.
“What happened?” she asked one of the deputies.
“We’ve got one armed male with a female hostage.”
“How did he get a hostage?”
“He must have grabbed her as we cleared the building.”
Nicki’s blood froze. “Who’s the hostage?”
“Unknown.”
Nicki stared at the gate for a fraction of a second. “I’m going to try to talk to him.”
“If we cover both gates, he can’t go anywhere,” said the second deputy. “We can wait him out.”
“That other gate’s not covered yet,” said Nicki. “And he could hurt the hostage.”
She ran to the gate and peeked around the edge of the green plastic. There was no sign of the gunman or his hostage. Nicki tried to lift the latch, but the lock threaded through the inside made it impossible.
She grunted in frustration and holstered her gun so she could reach both hands through the small opening and remove the lock. She looked through the narrow opening again, then opened the gate and slipped through. She still couldn’t see anyone.
Nicki paused a split second to focus. She couldn’t just charge into a hostage situation. Even if she had a terrible feeling she knew who the hostage was.
The gunman’s movement out of the building meant things were escalating; he probably thought his time was running out. Nicki knew she had to stop him before anyone got hurt.
She ran as quietly as she could until she reached the outside wall of the partially-built structure. She peeked around an opening but saw only pillars and empty space. She moved quickly to another opening. Same thing.
At the third opening, she heard a sound. She moved toward it.
“Just let me think,” said a man’s voice.
Nicki moved closer. She heard a second voice. It was too quiet to make out the words and she couldn’t see who it was. But she had a sinking feeling she knew.
She peeked around a column to see a man pacing and gesturing. She recognized him as a faculty member: David something. She didn’t have to guess about the object in his hand.
“I said shut up!” he said.
Nicki heard a thud and groaned inside. It sounded like the noise a pistol makes when it comes into contact with someone’s skull.
She moved sideways. If she could get to the pillar about twenty feet to her left, she could step right into his field of vision, taking his attention from the hostage and giving Nicki a chance to subdue him without having to fire a shot. She tiptoed toward her target.
Before she was close enough, sound burst from her radio. She hid behind a pillar and turned down the volume as David looked in her direction.
“Unit one be advised. Backup units will be in position in two minutes. Backup will be in position in two.”
“Don’t come any closer,” David yelled. “I’ve got a hostage.”
“I’m just here to talk,” said Nicki. For about two more minutes.
“Yeah, I’m sure you have my best interests at heart.”
“You’re David, right?” she called.
“I’m not interested in negotiating.”
“What do you want?” She peeked around her pillar. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t tell if he’d moved. She took a few more steps.
There was only one pillar left between Nicki and David now; it was time to make her move. She took a deep breath. Then she stepped around the pillar and leveled her gun—
—at nothing.
Over her shoulder, she saw David dragging his hostage through the east gate. Even with a pillar in the way, Nicki could now see the hostage was Ryan.
She took off at a dead run.
Nicki burst from the work site to see David and Ryan disappearing into Van Zandt Hall. She shouted as two deputies came around the corner of the fence.
“Call it in,” she said. “We need to cover all exterior doors of this building.”
She sprinted until she reached the door to VZ. Stepping inside, she looked around. A campus officer ran toward her from the other end of the hall.
“Chief, they went that way,” he said, pointing to the stairwell.
“Up or down?”
“Down, from the sound of it.”
Nicki would have preferred the other answer. Upstairs was a series of offices and small classrooms. Downstairs was a warren of practice rooms, rehearsal spaces, storage and extensions of the performance spaces. There were plenty of hiding places and back entrances. But she didn’t have a choice. She took the stairs two at a time.
Nicki had been through this building a few times, but she wasn’t familiar with the details of the basement level. She hoped the same was true for David.
At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered a series of tiny individual practice rooms, some with pianos and some without. She had to open each one to fully check the space. It took more time than she wanted, but she had to be thorough.
☐ ☐ ☐
Not far away, Ryan was making trouble for her captor. She pulled against his grip, bumped into corners and attempted to make as much noise as possible. She couldn’t hear anyone else on the basement level, but she persisted, knowing help could appear at any minute.
“Stop making so much noise,” David said, pulling her roughly.
“You’re running too fast. Give me a second to catch up with you.” She swiped at the blood running down her cheek from where he’d hit her with the gun.
Suddenly, he stopped and pulled her around to face him. “What’s the quickest way out of here?”
She’d been hoping he would ask.
“The far side of Hope Performance Hall,” she answered immediately. “Down this hallway and through all the rooms to the end. It empties out behind Mitchell Hall, near the parking lot.”
He pushed her ahead. They ran through the hallway and came to a closed door.
“Is this it?” David asked.
“I think this is a stora
ge room. Hope is farther along.”
He grumbled and opened the door. They entered a large, unlit space. David patted the walls on either side of the door.
“Where are the lights?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Just walk, then.”
Through the thin light that came in under the door, Ryan and David could see tall and wide shapes in front of them. They seemed to be arranged in loosely-constructed aisles.
Ryan knew the room housed items used during shows in Kennedy Hall, the smaller of the two main performance spaces on campus. There was no telling what kinds of set pieces were blocking their way. She was sure everything was in its place, but it must have looked like chaos to an outsider like David. She gently took the lead.
“Through here,” she said, turning down one aisle.
She led him through the openings between objects, stopping at dead ends and turning around to backtrack until he caught on.
“That’s enough,” he said. He reasserted the harsh grip on her upper arm and pulled her back the way they’d come. She yelped in pain.
They finally reached the door on the east side of the room and he pulled her through.
She managed to kick the doorjamb hard as they exited, sending a loud shudder through the wall. Then they were in the far corridor with the door closed behind them.
☐ ☐ ☐
After clearing the tiny practice rooms, Nicki turned a corner and came to a closed door. She looked up. If she was right, the door led to the space beneath Kennedy Hall.
Was that a sound? She listened again. She was sure she’d heard something.
She opened the door and quickly stepped into the darkened room, not wanting to be silhouetted against the hallway light any longer than necessary. She heard nothing.
She switched on her flashlight and raised her eyebrows in surprise. The room was filled with hundreds of items: racks of costumes; pieces of furniture and boards painted to look like columns, windows or framed pictures. She jogged through the space and quickly determined no one was there.
Standing in the center of the room, Nicki shined her flashlight around the perimeter. In addition to the door she’d come through on the west side, there were two doors on the south side a door on the east side. The doors on the south wall probably connected with Kennedy Hall itself, allowing performers and crew members to make their way from the performance space to the workspaces during rehearsals and performances. They were closed, but that didn’t mean David hadn’t taken Ryan through one of them.
The door on the east wall seemed more promising. It probably led to the hallway and eventually to the space beneath Hope Hall, the larger performance hall. There were building exits out of Hope Hall.
Nicki chose the east door and stepped into another hallway. It held six small rooms—three on the left and three on the right. Four had open doors, and she cleared them quickly. They were workrooms; one held sewing machines and irons. The other three contained makeup tables, lighted mirrors and tall, skinny cabinets that she guessed were full of makeup items.
She looked at the two closed doors. Sound came from behind one of them. She walked to the one on the right and put her ear against the wood. Nothing.
She walked to the door on the left. That was it. Not a lot of noise, but there was definitely someone in there. She knocked. The noise stopped.
“Open up. Campus police.”
Nothing.
“Campus police,” she said again. “I’m coming in.”
She turned the doorknob and pushed the door inward, keeping her body behind the wall.
The noise began again.
She poked her head around the doorjamb, then pulled it back. Then she lowered her weapon and stepped into the room.
A tall, broad-shouldered African-American man sat at a sewing machine. He was intently focused on his work, bobbing his head to whatever was coming through his noise-canceling headphones.
Nicki stepped closer and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, then took off the headphones.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Did you see anyone come through here?”
“No.”
“How long have you been here?”
He looked at his watch. “About an hour, I guess.”
“Did you know there’s a campus lockdown in effect?”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“You need to get out of the building.”
“But I—”
“—You need to get out of the building now.” She triggered her radio.
“This is Statton. I’m sending someone from the basement up the west stairs of Van Zandt now. He’s alone.”
“Acknowledged,” came the response.
Nicki looked back at the man and pointed toward the stairs. “Go now, and don’t stop until you get out of the building.”
The student, whose eyes had widened more with every word Nicki said through her radio, grabbed his backpack and sprinted for the door.
Nicki watched him until he disappeared from sight, then continued down the hallway.
☐ ☐ ☐
Ryan and David reached the storage room below Hope Hall. Again, Ryan waited while her captor searched unsuccessfully for a light switch on the wall. She held the sleeve of her shirt to her face to stop the blood that still trickled down her cheek.
They peered into the darkness until they could make out the rough outlines shapes. This space was much larger than that under Kennedy, and it was more densely packed. Instead of moving up and down the rows, David simply pushed items aside as they moved, making a beeline for the east door. Ryan managed to knock a few things around as he dragged her along.
He stopped and turned to face her, lifting the gun. “Stop it!”
Ryan stopped.
As they neared a corner of the room, he pushed her roughly to the ground and grabbed two long-sleeved shirts from a nearby rack. He used his teeth to tear the sleeves off of the first shirt and knelt behind her.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
He tied her wrists with one sleeve, then put the second sleeve through her mouth and tied it behind her head. He tied her ankles together using the second shirt. Then he stood and walked away.
18
Nicki paused in the hallway and took a quick breath. The door in front of her led to the room under Hope Hall. If David and Ryan were still in the building, she would find them there.
She put her ear against the door. There was no sound. She opened it and listened again before stepping through, flashlight at the ready.
The huge space was filled with a more dazzling array of items than she’d found under Kennedy Hall. Furniture was stacked floor-to-ceiling in uneven rows. Racks of clothes blocked each aisle. Following the beam of her flashlight, she turned the corner and gasped as she came face-to-face with a six-foot Mardi Gras mask with a horrifying grin.
She called into the darkness:
“David?”
She heard the faintest sound. It was barely anything; just the quickening of a footfall or the rustle of clothing. But she’d heard it. She kept going.
Not wanting David to know where she was, Nicki turned off her flashlight and rested the fingertips of her left hand against the wall. She let her eyes adjust to the low light and shadows.
She moved silently along the wall, straining to hear or see anything. She glanced up at the ceiling. They must be beneath the stage right now.
“David?”
This time she heard it.
“No.”
It was faint, and it was accompanied by footsteps. He was on the opposite side of the room. Not wanting to trip over anything, she kept her left hand on the wall and moved as quickly as she could toward the sound.
She heard something rhythmic and metallic. Click-thump…thump…click-thump…thump…
Then, from another part of the room, an urgent sound:
“Mm-mph.”
“Ryan?”
“Mmph!”
&nb
sp; Nicki turned on her flashlight. Ryan was sitting in a corner fifteen feet away. Nicki hurried over and untied Ryan’s hands. Ryan pulled the gag from her mouth.
“He went that way,” Ryan said, pointing across the room. “Up the ladder.”
“Are you all right?” Nicki gently lifted one of the shirtsleeves to the cut on Ryan’s face.
“I’m fine. Go.”
“On one condition. You stay right here. Don’t move; got it?”
“Got it.”
Nicki shined her light on the ladder David had ascended. There was another ladder closer to where she and Ryan stood.
“Does this ladder go to the same place as the other one?”
“Yes; they lead to the catwalks above the stage.”
Nicki yelled into the darkness. “David, stop! There’s nowhere to go. You’re surrounded.”
“Don’t come after me,” came the faint reply.
Nicki grabbed the first rung of the ladder and started climbing. She soon came to a hatch. Raising it, she poked her head out. Her nose was even with the Hope stage floor.
She saw David across the dark expanse, a shadow moving up the other ladder. She pushed the hatch door all the way open and kept climbing.
They reached the catwalk at the same time. Small lights illuminated the space just enough for them to see each other. David held the gun loosely in his left hand.
Nicki’s voice was calm as she raised her weapon. “David, put down the gun.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t raise the gun. Didn’t do anything.
“David, the gun. Put it down.”
He looked down at the weapon in his hand like he didn’t know what it was. Then he dropped it. It clattered to the catwalk and toppled over the edge. A moment later, it thunked to the stage floor. Nicki exhaled.
“Okay, David, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come over here and I’m going to search you. Then I’m going to start down the ladder. When I’m halfway down, you’ll start down behind me. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” He took a few unsteady steps in her direction. The catwalk swayed.
“Slowly,” said Nicki.
He grunted and put one hand on the railing that ran along one side of the walkway.
