Here in this Sorrow, Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Andy pulled open the door to the stairwell and stepped inside. There were blood trails everywhere, leading up and down. He ran up to the landing to check Stephen Joyce for a pulse. When he found none, he shook his head and sniffed. “Chris, why?” he whispered, almost crying. He stood up and looked to the top of the stairs and down over the railing. There was screaming above, but it was louder below. He ran down the stairs, pausing to look around the corner when he got to the bottom. He went to the door at the back of the stairwell and shook it. The doors were locked during school hours, and would not open. The windows were two feet high and six inches wide, not a possibility to climb through. The glass was cracked, but the wire mesh between the panes had kept it intact.

Andy went to the door leading into the hallway and peered through the window. The screaming had stopped, and only a few students could be seen. Kate Trudgen caught sight of Andy and waved him desperately to come in. He pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the hall. “What’s going on?” he asked. Before Kate could answer, Andy saw several police officers at the end of the hall, dressed in bullet-proof vests and carrying shotguns. They were ushering students down the hall.

“Some kid freaked out and started shooting people on the upper floors,” Kate said, pointing at the ceiling. She put her arms around Andy and embraced him tightly. “The police are trying to clear out this floor before he comes downstairs.”

Andy looked around frantically. “He’s not here?” he asked, his eyes wide.

Kate shook her head. “No, the police checked. This floor is clear. They think he’s still on one of the upper floors.”

“What’s all the screaming about?”

“When they burst in wearing their riot gear, a lot of people got scared and started to panic. They got everything under control quickly though.” She tugged at him, trying to bring him down the hall. “Come on, let’s get out of here before it gets dangerous.”

“I can’t,” Andy said, backing away. “I have to go find him.”

“What?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Tell them it’s Christian Duke, tell them he’s the one. I have to find him before the police do.” He turned and ran back to the stairway. As the door closed behind him, he was stopped dead by the faint echo of a gunshot. “Oh god,” he whimpered, falling to his knees. “Oh god, Chris, please stop!”

He fought to his feet and climbed the stairs slowly and deliberately. When he got to the first floor landing, he looked through he windows to the blasted door outside. Police were swarming about, but not daring to enter the school.

He ran up the stairs, vaulting over the corpse on the landing. Blood trails led everywhere, but there were no more bodies. When he got to the top, he carefully inspected the scene through the window. Emily Mann and Robin Tyrell were slumped against the wall, but no one else could be seen. As he pushed open the door, he followed the blood trails with his eyes to the corpses.

Andy peeked around the corner to find the hall empty. He stepped in and closed the door quietly, standing like a statue, listening for any noise. “Chris, where are you?” he whispered and walked into the first door on his right, Mr. Holowinski’s room. The lights were still on. Papers and pens lay on the desks, and on the chalkboard was a half-complete chemistry equation. There was blood on the doorhandle, and some on the floor in the doorway. Some papers had been knocked on the floor and lay by the desks. Andy scanned the room, but no one is was inside.

He closed the door and moved on, carefully opening the next classroom, Mrs. Tremier’s room. Papers were scattered about in the mad rush, but the lights were off. “Chris?” he called out hopefully. “Chris? Are you in here?”

From behind a lab table in the back of the room, Erica Tanning stood up. Andy was so surprised that he almost ducked out of the room. “Andy, it’s not you, is it?” she asked. Her face was marked with tears, and her eyes were swollen. “I don’t want to die, please help me.”

“Erica, my God what are you still doing here?” Andy asked, running over to her. He put his arm around her and started leading her towards the door. “Where is everyone?”

“Mr. Holowinski and the other teachers were trying to keep everyone together in one place,” she said, her words broken with sobs. “I didn’t want to be with the crowd if someone was trying to kill us. I hid in here instead of going with them.” She started to collapse, but Andy supported her. “Oh God! There was a gunshot a few minutes ago! Oh God!”

Andy stopped. “Where did they go?” Where did the teachers take them?” he asked desperately. “Where are they?” he demanded, shaking her before she could answer.

“I don’t know!” she cried, trying to struggle out of his iron grasp. “The library, I think! Please! Let me go!”

Andy pushed her out the door and followed. “Get to the bottom floor. There’s police down there getting everyone out. Tell them that there are probably more bombs set...”

His words were cut short by the crack of a gunshot. Both of them froze, staring at each other. The sounds of screaming came from the library. Andy looked from closed library doors to the girl. Before he could say anything, there were two more shots, and then silence.

He waved towards the stairs and ordered, “Go! Tell the police to be careful!”

She stood frozen another moment, but was prompted to motion by the fourth gunshot. She ran screaming through the doors. Andy waited, listening to her voice grow fainter until it disappeared.

He slowly advanced on the library. His fingers curled and uncurled slowly. Finally, he jammed them in his pockets. “Oh God, Chris, please.”

From in the library, he could hear Christian’s voice screaming something indistinguishable. He stopped for a moment, breathing deeply, struggling to hold back sobs. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” He forced one foot in front of the next and moved on again.

When the gun began firing repeatedly, he ran to the doors. He shook them, but they wouldn’t open. He cried as the locked doors gave no quarter, falling to his knees, sobbing, still clinging to the door handles. “Please, Chris!” he begged through his tears. “Please stop!”

The sound of the gun stopped. He heard Christian scream, “Stand up! Stand up so I don’t have to come for you!” A few seconds later, there was the blast of a shotgun, followed by a handgun sounding three times. Then, more silence.

When the door rattled, Andy pulled himself to his feet and backed away. He stood frozen for a few seconds, until one of the doors opened and Christian stepped out. He was drenched in blood, which, along with sweat and tears that had washed away most of his make-up. He looked and Andy and sighed. “I told you to leave,” he said. Before Andy could respond, Christian grabbed him and slammed him against the wall and sidestepped to press against the wall next to him.

There was an explosion inside the library. The two doors rattled on their hinges and the windows at the top blew outward. Andy shielded his face, protecting it from the tiny shards of glass that rained down on them.

Christian stepped away from the wall and put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I told you to leave for a reason,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want to accidently kill you. Get out now. Tell the cops I was serious about the bombs.”

“What?” Andy gasped. “What bombs?” He grabbed Christian’s collar and pulled him close. “Christian, there are cops in the basement level evacuating kids. They’re going to kill you.”

“Inside!” Christian moaned. “The fuckers called my bluff!” He shook his head. “Come on, they’re probably on their way up here now.” He ran down the hall.

Andy trailed after him, calling out, “Wait!”

Without looking, Christian unzipped the guitar case and reached in. He pulled out the pipe bomb and ran through the stairway door, holding it open for Andy.

Below, adult voices were talking and footsteps were echoing up the stairs.

“Shit,” Christian grumbled. He lit the fuse at half the length and dropped it over the rail. He spun, grabbed Andy and threw the both of them through the door. They fell in a heap in the hall. Christian rolled off of him and pulled Andy after him.

An explosion rattled the doors and broke the window. When it quieted, Christian got to his feet. He brushed the dust off and helped Andy up. “That ought to buy us some time,” he said. He shook his head. “I don’t know how we’re getting out of here though.”

Andy grabbed the lapel of Christian’s coat. “Chris!” he cried. “There’s cops all over. The only way you’re going out of here alive is if you give up.”

Christian pushed Andy’s hand away. “I’m not giving up. I’m not done yet.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe they called my bluff! Those fuckers! They endangered so many lives!”

“What are you talking about?” Andy demanded.

Christian’s eyes widened. He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. He pressed it into Andy’s palm. “Come with me. You and me, we’ll go out in a blaze of glory, just like in the movies.”

Andy pushed Christian back and pointed the gun at him. “No,” he said gravely.

Christian laughed and pulled another gun from his hip. “You won’t shoot me,” he said, pointing his own weapon at Andy’s face.

Andy breathed in deeply and exhaled. “How do you know?” he whispered.

Christian smiled. “Because I gave you an empty gun.” he laughed and dropped his weapon to his side. “You can’t shoot me with that.”

Down the hall, the library doors opened, and a bloody boy stumbled out.

Andy sighed and let his arm slump. When Christian reached out and gently took it from him, he released his grip.

Christian pointed Andy’s gun down the hall and fired three times. The bloody boy fell and someone pulled the door closed behind him. Christian slipped the gun back into it’s holster and smiled. “I won’t fight with you, Andy,” he said, embracing his friend. “Go down stairs and tell the cops I’ll shoot them one by one if they come up here for me.”

Andy pushed Christian away and fell back against the wall. “God damn it!” he wailed. “What is fucking wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”

Christian stared for a second, cocked his head and slumped his shoulders. “You have to ask why?” he sighed. When Andy did no more than stare, he said, “I did it for us, for all of us. For you, for me, for Shannon, for Clark,” he said, waving his arms around. “I did it for everyone that has taken shit from someone and wasn’t able to give anything back. I did it for everyone that ever felt humiliation because they couldn’t stop the spit-wads, or wanted to become invisible when they were pantsed or given a wedgie. I did it for everyone that ever had to call home for new clothes because they had milk thrown on them! I did it for everyone that ever cried out for justice and got nothing. I am that justice.” He dropped the gun to his side and stared into Andy’s eyes. “I got even with all those fuckers. I taught them all a lesson, them and everyone that just let them get away with it.” He shook his head. “This will make them think twice about who they call a fag, or a loser, or a psycho.”

Andy licked his teeth beneath his lips. “You didn’t do shit,” he snarled. “You’re just another mass murderer. You’re a news flash. You won’t make anyone think twice, you’re just another person jumping on a tired bandwagon. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get two weeks on the news like those kids in Colorado, but you’ll probably barely even be mentioned.” he bowed his head. “Shit, you don’t even have a web-page. A lot of people probably won’t even hear about you.”

Christian looked away, warding off Andy with his hand. “No,” he said harshly. “That’s not true! These people needed to be taught a lesson, and I taught it to them. They got what they deserved, and now the whole world will see!” He threw down his hands. “I made a statement,” he snapped with faux-confidence.

“And what about you?” Andy asked.

Christian’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Have you thought about what will happen to you?” Andy asked. “Even if you walk out of here alive, what are you going to do? You’re eighteen, you’re an adult. If you somehow manage to not get the death penalty, you’ll still never be free again.”

Christian turned away and slammed his fist into a locker. “I’m not the issue here. I’m a martyr. I did this for the weak, the ugly, and the lost...”

“Quoting punk-rock songs aren’t going to sway me,” he said. “You are the issue. You threw away your whole fucking life, and for what?”

“To get even with them...”

“By killing them?” Andy demanded. He shook his head. “Look at the people you killed. Most of them were seniors. Next year they would have gone away to college. Five years from now, they’ll all have careers. A lot of them will be married. They’ll have normal, everyday lives. Their first kid will be arriving soon, and they will be dreaming of the big-screen TV in the living room.”

Christian tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you get it?” Andy cried. “You’re as good as dead now! You threw your life away for these people. They’re the ones living it great right now, ruining everyone’s lives, scoring the touchdowns, screwing the cheerleaders. They get away with stepping on us every day...”

“And I fucking killed them for it!” Christian protested.

“But for what?” Andy hissed. “Six or seven years down the line, these people might as well be dead. Everything they’ll ever hold as a major accomplishment–the big promotion, the cherry red sports car–none of that really matters in the big picture! They would live their lives, die, and be forgotten. You brought national coverage and sympathy to someone who would never have mattered. They’re all people you would see trashed and depressed in a bar five years from now.” He put a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “You, you’re a musician. Five years from now, your life would barely have started. You alone could have amounted to more than everyone in this school together. Their lives would have been over before yours started. Twenty years down the road, they would be seeing you on television and telling their friends how they went to school with you. You prevented all that from happening, and in return, you made a victim out of the enemy and an enemy out of the victim.”

Christian turned around and stared for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.” When Andy stepped forward, holding out his hand, Christian pushed him hard, knocking him off his feet. He stared down at Andy, his jaw working back and forth. Christian pulled out his gun and aimed it at Andy.

Andy tried to crawl away, but Christian followed him. “Chris, don’t do it,” he begged. “You know you don’t want to.”

Christian looked at the door, turned and emptied the weapon into it. There was a yelp and the sound of something rolling down the stairs. “Fucking pigs,” he snarled. He dropped his gun, unslung the open guitar case and pulled out the shotgun. He stuck the barrel of the gun out the window and started firing. There were more yells and some returning fire, then silence.

“I’ve got people up here!” Christian yelled, jamming rounds into the shotgun. “You’re killing them if you don’t get out!”

From below came a megaphone calling, “Throw down your weapons and come down with your hands raised.”

“Fuck you!” Christian screamed. “I have hostages! If you come up here, you’re killing them! Their blood is on your hands!”

Andy got to his feet. “Give up, Chris.”

Without looking, Christian pulled a gun off his hip and aimed it at Andy. “You shut up,” he snarled, peering through the window. “Fuck,” he muttered. “They’re probably going to gas me soon.” He pointed the pistol through the window and fired three times. “Load that,” he said, pointing to the discarded Glock next to Andy’s feet. Holding the shotgun up with his stomach, he fished a clip out of his pocket and tossed it to Andy. When he looked over and saw Andy just standing, he screamed, “Fucking do it!”

Andy scrambled to pick up the gun. He reloaded quickly and chambered a round and pointed it at Christian. “Drop your guns, Chris,” he said.

Christian looked over at him, scowling. “Do we have to do this again?” he asked. He put the shotgun carefully on the ground and held out his hand. “Give me that,” he demanded.

“No, fuck you,” Andy said, gripping the weapon with both hands. “This ends here and now.” He was struggling to keep his face from breaking. A single tear traced its way down his cheek.

Christian shrugged and spread his arms. “I guess if I have to die, it might as well be by your hand.” He stood there for a few seconds, looking impatient, and said, “Do it.” He watched as Andy battled with himself for a few more seconds and then started walking towards him. When Christian took hold of the gun and pulled it away, Andy collapsed against him, sobbing and hugging him. Christian embraced him as well, a pistol in each hand.

“Why did this happen?” Andy sobbed.

“Because it had to,” Christian whispered. He lowered Andy to the ground and rested him against the wall. “Because they pushed me too far, and I didn’t know enough to stop myself.” He released a choked laugh. “I let them get the best of me, Andy. I let them win.”

Andy looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded. He shook his head slightly, and moved his mouth as if to talk.

Christian took a step back and forced a smile. “I’m going to turn myself in. I’m going to see if there is any way I can turn this around. I’m going to see if there is any way I can make it so the bad guys don’t get their day in the sun.” He turned towards the door, took one step and then looked back, forcing a smile. “Make sure they don’t say the music didn’t make me do it.” Before Andy could respond, Christian ran into the stairwell.