I ran to the railing at the edge of the walkway. From my vantage point, the ground level looked deserted. There had been a couple of students down there when I'd walked in; hopefully, they'd found a hiding place.
A hundred scenarios ran through my head as I rushed down the stairs between the opposite moving sets of escalators at each level, gripping my backpack in my left hand. A slow, dull ache began creeping through my right arm, my all but forgotten pain carefully revealing itself again.
I didn't see any students or staff on the ground level as I gingerly made my way toward the entrance. It appeared that I was alone in the library. An ear-piercing scream ripped through the air ahead of me, in the hallway, followed by a short burst of rounds.
Heart beating wildly.
Hands clammy.
I edged closer to the library's entrance. The scream sounded like it came from just down the hallway to the right, but the gunshots had come from the left.
Shit, this is stupid.
The sounds of a hyperventilating victim were quickly drowned out by the thumping of boots as someone in a long, black trench coat sprinted down the hallway, crossing in front of the library door.
I burst out into the hallway, planning on taking the shooter unaware. The figure ahead of me, the shorter of the two I had seen entering the school that morning, didn't seem to notice the sound. She was running headlong after the other girl, who was hobbling as quickly as she could toward a nearby classroom, blood pouring from her left leg.
I willed my own legs to move forward, though every fiber of my being screamed for me to hide from the danger. The hound and her meal were at an intersection of hallways, about fifty feet ahead of me.
Why do I have to be injured right now? Of all the things to face with a jacked up arm…
I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded in my head. The shooter had dropped the duffel bag she'd been carrying earlier in favor of pursuing her prey. Her quarry fell to the ground in a bloody mess.
And time slowed.
The assailant slid to a stop mere feet away from the bleeding girl, raising the weapon in her right hand. It seemed that an eternity passed as my mind shut off and my body moved.
I reached the duffel bag on the floor and stretched my hand into it to grab whatever instrument of death could be found therein. My fingers closed around the grip of a gun, and I pulled it out to reveal a glinting, silver handgun with a large "45" emblazoned on the barrel. I'd shot plenty of guns with Uncle Rob but rarely had I ever used my left hand alone to do so.
Each heartbeat seemed to extend beyond its boundary, thumping loudly in my ears as I dropped to my knees and aimed the weapon.
Too late.
The shooter in front of me fired, landing two bullets in the face of the girl on the ground. Whatever calm I had been feeling within before that moment quickly evaporated as the girl's body slumped to the floor, dead.
Tears slid down my cheeks and my body remained frozen, gun barrel pointed directly at the murderer before me. The shooter heard me crying and began turning to face me. The expression she wore was one of triumph, but as she noticed the gun trained on her I could see the realization spread across her face. Before she had completed the turn I fired.
One-two-three-four-I emptied the clip. All fifteen rounds caught the target with unrivaled accuracy. But then I continued pulling the trigger for several seconds after the clip had been emptied. The shooter's body was rocked with bullets and it didn't take long for her to fall, landing next to the innocent teen she had just ruthlessly murdered. I dropped my arm and the weapon slipped from my fingers.
The sounds of the school, which had been muffled beneath the sound of my own heartbeat and the gunfire, returned. I could hear shots ringing from down another hallway, along with people yelling and boots stomping. I sat back on my heels. I couldn't get up. I couldn't think straight.
I had just killed someone.
I stared blankly at the two dead bodies just twenty feet away from me. Blood was pooling around them, mixing the innocent with the guilty, desecrating the goodness with evil. I wanted to do something. I wanted to burn the body of that killer. Tears were still streaming down my expressionless face as I looked on in horror. My insides were teeming with a fury unlike any I had ever known, but my body was unresponsive.
Boots stomping.
Gunshots ringing.
The dead screaming.
Why were they getting louder?
I tore my gaze away from the dead girls to look toward the far end of the hallway. A tall figure was running down the hallway toward me, only stopping to fire a few bullets through closed classroom doors.
The shadow raced toward me, bringing certain death with it. Somehow, he hadn't seen me yet, but I knew it would only be another moment before he did; before he saw his dead comrade. I had nowhere to go and I couldn't move quickly enough to get away even if I wanted to.
No.
I didn't want to.
I wanted revenge.
Who were these people to kill? Who were they to destroy? Rage began building up inside of me, coursing through my body and making me forget the pain in my arm and in my heart. I stuck my hand in the duffel bag again, certain I'd find something else in there that I could use to end the life of this miserable scum running down the hall in front of me. I would use their own weapons against them.
I would get justice.
But the bag was empty.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer.
There aren't any more weapons in here! Shit!
Just then the boy slid to a stop. My heart was pounding relentlessly as my mind worked to try to find an escape. But there was none. In mere moments I would be just another dead body on the hallway floor and there was nothing that I could do about it. I thought of praying, but I didn't really know what to say.
Shock spread across the attacker's face as he noticed his trench coat-clad comrade lying in an ever-widening pool of blood, unmoving. His breathing turned ragged as he began hyperventilating. It seemed to me that this guy hadn't been prepared for all possibilities. He hadn't been emotionally prepared for the girl to die. My own heart was threatening to beat out of my chest. I watched as the shooter fell to his knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Police and emergency services sirens were sounding outside of the building, though they barely registered in my mind. After a few moments of watching the hysterical murderer in front of me, who still hadn't seemed to notice me, I climbed to my feet.
It was my chance to escape. I stepped as quietly as possible away from the horrific scene. I felt nearly emotionless, now; numb, save for the fear of death that persisted. When I had taken a few steps in reverse I thought to turn and run for it. Surely I could make it to the next intersection of halls and then to my escape. I didn't get the chance to turn though, as the boy abruptly sat up, looking directly at me.
"You killed her, didn't you?" the boy's voice was full of remorse.
"You're the only one standing, so it had to have been you." I had no idea what I should say. He was correct and I couldn't see any feasible way to convince him otherwise. Eyes wide, I had to at least try to escape. The boy's hands started moving, raising his weapon, and I turned to run as fast as my legs would take me.
Bang!
I expected more. A single gunshot rang through the hall, piercing my ears ruthlessly. I looked down at my body and was surprised to see…nothing. No blood, no holes. I didn't stop; I couldn't. My feet pounded the corridor floor in time with my heartbeat. As I reached the intersection, having already passed the library entrance, I slipped around the corner and stopped, resting my back against the wall. I listened but heard nothing.
I cautiously peeked back around the corner to see if I was being pursued, but to my astonishment, no one was moving. No one was moving at all, because they were all lying still. The boy who I thought had taken a shot at me as I ran was now lying on his back right where he had been moments before. I could just make out the red splatter on the previously pristinely white floor and the wall behind him.
He had killed himself.