Here in this Sorrow Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Andy was still crying when the police found him. Firefighters were rushing past, going into the burning ruin of the library. The whole upper floor smelled of smoke and charred bodies. He was handcuffed and led out of the school. Two cops pushed him through a crowd of police and he was shoved into a cruiser five feet from the barricade holding back the spectators, camera crews and reporters.

The police fired questions at him that he couldn’t hear. All he could ask repeatedly was, “Is he dead? Did they kill Christian?”

All around him, gurneys were being pushed, bearing forms covered with white sheets with ugly red splotches. Police, paramedics and fire fighters raced all around.

Eventually, he was driven to the police station and locked in an interrogation room. For nearly three hours, he endured a battery of questions to which he had no answers. Shortly before he was released, an officer he hadn’t seen yet came in and sat down across the table from him.

“Christian Duke was your friend?” the fat cop asked.

Andy’s tear-streaked face was a mask of rage. “How many times do I have to answer the same fucking questions?” he demanded. “I’ve cooperated with everything, and you won’t fucking listen!”

“Please, just answer the question,” the cop said, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Yes,” Andy spat. “He was my best friend. He also never mentioned this to me, ever. When I tried to stop him, when I tried to save lives, you dragged me down here in front of the news crews like I was an accomplice. You can ask Christian, I’m fucking innocent, so let me go!”

The cop stared at him, working his jaw. “Approximately ten minutes before you were apprehended, Christian Duke was shot to death when he exchanged fire with police officers in the basement.”

Andy collapsed into tears on the table.

“At this time, we have no reason to believe you were involved with this incident, so you are being released into the custody of your parents. They have been contacted and are on their way.”

On the way home, Andy’s parents were quiet and unsure. He lay in the back seat, sobbing. The only words his father said were curses under his breath when he saw a crowd of reporters blocking their driveway. When he opened the window to yell, he had a microphone shoved in his face. Andy’s parents shielded him as they went into the house. Andy’s father threatened to call the police if the news crews didn’t leave. Andy’s mother led him into the house as his father covered their retreat.

“How the fuck did they get his name?” his father snarled, slamming the door behind them.

“They probably asked some kid who Christian’s friends were,” Andy said, leaning against the wall.

His mother ran to him and put her around him. “Now don’t worry about that,” she said. “You just go up and try to get some rest. Are you hungry? Do you want anything?”

He shook his head and pulled away from her, going up the stairs to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and fell onto his bed. He shoved his face into the thin Pac Man pillow and started sobbing. For nearly an hour he lay there, crying. As his sobs eventually slowed, he rolled over and picked up the phone. He dialed a number and when a woman’s voice answered, he said, “Can I speak to Clark, please?”

“Clark isn’t taking any calls,” the woman said, sounding disgusted. “Just let him be.”

“This is Andy, Mrs. Golding, it’s important.” He sniffed and said, “Can I please talk to him?”

“Oh,” she replied. “Hold on.”

There was a long pause, and then another line was picked up. “Hello?” Clark said. His voice was hoarse.

“Hey,” Andy said. “How are you?”

There was another pause. “It’s him, mom,” Clark said. There was a ‘click,’ and Clark said, “One reporter already called saying she was Shannon. Are you okay?”

Andy paused. “I don’t know.”

“Did you... see anything?”

“Yeah,” he replied. There was a short pause, and he said, “I was there when he stared, when he killed Jim Smitt. I saw... a lot.”

Clark was quiet for nearly a minute. “I’m sorry.” When Andy didn’t respond for a while, he said, “The cops just left here about two hours ago. They had a search warrant and asked me a ton of questions. That was when they told me Christian was killed. I talked to Shannon, the same thing happened to her.”

“They had me downtown,” Andy said. “They thought I was in on it, that I was a shooter. They just let me go a little while ago. They think we are all in on it, Clark. They are going to think now that every kid who is a little bit different is going to have a gun in his coat.”

Clark coughed. “I know. This is going to make them crack down on us even more. It’s going to be just like the last time this happened. There are going to be all kinds of efforts to get people like us into clubs, and activities, and all the things we never wanted to be a part of.”

“They are going to look at this all wrong. Schools all over the country are going to make things worse in an effort to make them better. They are going to be enforcing the very things that made this happen,” Andy said, stopping short. He looked down at his chest. “I’ve got to go. I just wanted to see how you were.”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “Try to sleep okay.”

“Yeah,” Andy said, and hung up. He lay in bed for a long time, staring at the blank TV screen. After a while, he picked up the remote control and turned it on.

“Robert Zimmerman High school was a tragic scene today,” announced a reporter standing in front of the school. “What is being called the worst case of school violence to date took place at the small suburban high school. Thirty-six people are dead, and at least double that number are seriously injured–most of them students at the high school–after at least one gunman entered the school, planted several explosive devices and opened fire on the students...”

He changed the channel to see flashes of the school from an aerial view. A woman voiced over, “The gunman, who police identified as Christian Duke, a senior student at the school, wore black clothing, a trench coat and make-up similar to that of controversial rocker, Marilyn Manson...”

Andy sobbed and changed the channel again. “...questioned a second suspect, who was released into the custody of his parents. Police have not ruled out his involvement, as well as the involvement of two other students that were known to be Duke’s friends. Students of Zimmerman High claimed that the four were like a gang, obsessed with death and violence...” Andy slammed down the button, changing the channel.

An aging man in a news desk was speaking next to a picture of Christian taken the year before, when Christian had a blue mohawk in liberty-spikes. “...was reportedly a fan of the horror-rock band, ‘The Misfits,’ whose violent song lyrics possibly incited the boy to murder. A representative for the band could not be reached...”

He changed the channel again to see an image of students walking down a school hall. “Today’s events bring to a head discussions about safety in schools. The use of dress-codes and see-through back-packs which were instituted after the similar incident at Colombine High seemed to have helped across the country. Neither precaution was present at Zimmerman High.”

He slammed the ‘power’ button and the television went black. He threw the remote on the floor and rolled over, tears streaming from his eyes.