Forward

Forward

1

It started with the sharp whistle of the fire alarm. I was sitting at the lunch table not hearing the typical comments given, with such compassion and empathy, by my classmates.

“Hey, Jason, you going insane like your mother?”

“Saw you father in the newspaper, why’s he in jail this time?”

“Visited your mother last night, she barked like dog for me.”

The lunch tables were round; situated in perfect geometric order. They were all completely packed with students. The lunch room was huge with soaring arches on the ceiling. It was filled to capacity with tables. From my vantage point I could see the right and left exit.

My black hair and blue eyes where in contrast with the sick green color of the lunch tables, but they matched my solid grey shirt and pants.
That day I sat alone as I always did. It was better for me to be alone. I had more time to work and more time to think. In other words it was a living Hell. I was watching both exits when lights started flashing in the halls as the fire alarm was pulled.

Its piercing whistle filled the school making students grimace and put their hands over their ears. As usual the cafeteria erupted into chaos.  Students ran, walked, and talked loudly. Thinking the fire alarm was all great fun, they all went towards the right exit.

I was angry at being interrupted during lunch. But I got slowly to my feet, and walked towards the right exit with the crowd. I wasn’t even halfway there when a razor-sharp pain exploded through my head.

I blacked out for a second seeing the right exit filled with red. I came back to reality, for a second it seemed like I had three bullet holes in my chest along with one in my head. My hands went up to my head then down to my chest there was no bullet holes, no blood. I did not know what it meant, but one thing was sure something bad was going to happen in the right exit.

I looked back to the right exit; four students were standing in the doorway. One of them was John Smith. I knew him by reputation not as a friend. He was a deadbeat getting in trouble every other day with his brown hair and sneering pale face. An outcast driven by ridicule and deceit, to become what others believed he was. I didn’t recognize the other three people.

I saw something glint in their hands; THEY HAD GUNS! I dove to the floor screaming something, I don’t remember what. The four gunmen opened fire on the crowd, and the whole world disintegrated into chaos.

My hearing was deadened by the gunfire, and the screaming of the crowd. Blood seemed to be everywhere; the right exit was red.
I could smell the fear, sweat, and blood in the air. Adrenalin and fear pulsed through my veins; I was disoriented and terrified. But through all this confusion and disorder one thought was clear to me, I had to move.

I stumbled forward staying low and tripped over something soft. It was a corpse; my stomach heaved; I just stopped myself from puking.  I went forward leaving the dead alone.

I felt a bullet pass by my cheek missing it by inches. Then I was at the stairs to the left exit.  I stepped on the first step and tripped bashing my head. Darkness took me into the black abyss of my subconscious. 

2

I woke up to the sound of a harsh voice blaring over the loudspeaker.

“This school is now in the hands of me, John Smith. Listen all you cops to my demands.”

The loud speakers crackled for a moment then a gruff voice came on.

“Listen to me, you bastard. Give up before you die.”

“Oooo… I’m so afraid I’m trembling.”  “You think I’m stupid cop, we have a hostage.” “Her name is Susan we have here in room 207.” “WHY DON’T YOU COME AND GET US?”

The loud speaker crackled again; the gruff voice came back on.

“You liar, you don’t have a hostage. Go to hell!”

A minute passed then I heard the loudspeaker come on again. Another minute passed then a voice said.

“Speak, you stupid cunt.”

Then a strong clear feminine voice sounded over the loud speaker.

“Go to hell, John Smith.”

I could hear them beating her for that. Rage filled me, and I wanted revenge. John and his compatriots gave their demands and then the loudspeaker conversation ended. I think I admired Susan the most for those cool words under threat of death.

I knew Susan only in passing. She was about medium height, with long blond hair, and sparkling green eyes. I did not know much about her personality. All I did know was she was in a lot of programs to help people in need. 

I looked around in the spacious cafeteria; at the far right everything seemed normal, like a bad joke of the left. My eyes bulged as I saw what was in front of me: a wasteland. Tables lay with legs pointing in the air like some cartoon’s joke of death. Other tables lay broken their pieces scattered everywhere. Blood lay in a fine coat on everything, like the sky had opened up and rained blood instead of water.

Dead people lay everywhere, strewn haphazardly across the whole length of the room. It looked like some of them had been wounded, but one of the gunman had went through with a knife.

Fury and revulsion filled my mind making it hard to think. Who could do a thing like this to living breathing people? Who was this sick?

I made no decisions. I just started walking towards room 207. Decisions and courage would come later; right then I was just walking down the hallway. The lockers on both sides turned into silent sentinels watching my every step. The red hall seemed to lengthen and close in around me.

I finally reached the stairs and quietly ascended them to meet whatever came. As I reached the top floor I heard something behind me that made my blood run cold. Footsteps sounded quietly behind me an echo of ruin. My heart beat quickened, until every beat throbbed through my veins.

I looked around frantically for a hiding place. To my left there was an open classroom; I quickly ducked into it. A moment later one of the gunmen walked past. He was about average height with worn blue jeans and a bright red shirt. He walked as if he owned the place and I hated him for it. He held his gun in his hand pointing at the ground.

Without any conscious thought or decision I silently crept out of my hiding place. I was so close to the gunman I could hear him breathe. Then I pounced on him in a flying tackle. We both fell to the floor.  The gun twisted and was driven into the gunman’s abdomen. His head smashed into the floor knocking him out cold.

I landed on him; saving myself from injury. I stood up a little unsteadily as I felt sick fear in my stomach. Adrenalin rushed through my veins so that every heartbeat was painful. I pushed the gunman over on his back taking his gun.

It was just a semi-automatic handgun, nothing special, but it worked. The gun was heavy and cold. Its weight in my hand seemed to make this whole nightmare, for the first time, real.

For a second I stood fear overcoming all other emotions. Go back or go forward. Forward led to death that much was sure. Back led to safety and end to the fear, but could I live with that? My face was pale and fear pounding through my head. Then the color returned to my face. My lips turned up in a rictus snarl and I thought: forward I don’t fear death. Ok I did fear death, but I went forward anyway. 

I held the gun in my hand with my finger on the trigger and held it out pointing in front of me. In that way I began my final journey to room 207 and fate.

3

I could smell the end of my journey in the air. Of course I could see room 207’s open door in front of me too, but it was the smell that confirmed it.
Four classrooms until the end and I started counting down. It felt like I was counting down to my execution. Three classrooms left; my pulse quickened to a new high. All my senses where heightened. I could see small little flakes of paint on the far wall and smell the gunmen’s sweat. Two classrooms left; last chance to turn back. One classroom left; terror filled me until I felt like I would burst with it. 

Then I was just outside room 207 and I met gunman number three for a short time. He was tall with reddish hair and a self-serving smile on his face. He had on worn blue jeans and a dark green t-shirt with a skull and crossbones graphic on it. He must have been standing guard just inside the door because he came out lifting his gun and saying in a fake officious voice.

“Who goes there?”

He was a foot away from me when he saw the gun pointing at him. He had foolishly walked into it and he had no time to think. I did not hesitate or waste my time saying anything, I just pulled the trigger. BANG!!! The gun went off; my hand was flung back by the recoil and a hole appeared in the gunman’s head.
He fell back into the room dead before he hit the ground. I heard the other two gunmen yelling.

“John, some son of a bitch just killed Todd. I’m going to kill him.”

“No stay back, it’s probably the cops, they’ll kill you too.”

Then the same voice screamed “You bastards STOP. I have a gun to the hostage’s head. I’m going to kill her then I’m going to kill all of you.”

For a second I stood there starring at what I had done. Then utter revulsion and self-loathing hit me knocking me to the floor.  I had killed a living breathing person. I was attacked with disgust from all sides; I felt a feeling so terrible that it pushed every other feeling away.

I felt I had done something utterly unforgivable, and for the first time I felt a terror for my soul instead of my life. Then I heard John Smith's last words. A new feeling rose in my heart.

No matter how lost I was, there was someone who needed saving. My face sparkled with a new light. I was filled with resolve. I decided to go forward into room 207, the culinary room. 

The time for stealth and silence was over. I ran forward and jumped through the doorway turning sideways in midair. A bullet passed by my arm; the gunmen stood by the front desk in the classroom. BANG!!! I got one shot off at him before my head slammed into the wall.

The bullet went wild tearing into white board and leaving a jagged trail behind. I felt a sharp pain run down my left arm as a bullet grazed the skin. Hot blood ran down my arm dripping on the floor and on my clothes.

The second gunman wore black sweatpants with a black t-shirt. He had blue hair and dark beady eyes.
I stumbled to my feet and dived forward pointing the gun at the gunman. BANG!!! I hit the second gunman in the chest he fell back dead or wounded. This time the recoil slammed my hand into the front desk. A sharp pain ran through my arm and left it numb.

Pain ran through my leg as a bullet grazed it. Blood poured down my leg joining the blood from my arm. I looked around the room for John Smith the last gunman.

On both side walls there were cooking stations with pots and pans hanging all over.  Two guns that looked suspiciously like automatics lay empty on the tables. The walls were painted in bright garish colors. They seemed to ridicule the serious situation I was in. In the middle of the floor where there was a clear open space John Smith stood with a gun pointed at Susan’s head. She stood in front of him clearly terrified, but resolute.

Then he said in a hate filled and terrified voice “Put your gun down you bastard.”

The gun fell from my hand as time seemed to stop. The gun seemed to take forever to fall. When it hit the floor the sound seemed to be coming from a thousand miles away.

I rolled over on my back exhausted for a moment then I resolutely got to my feet. 

Then John said angrily “This is the end for you and her you might as well enjoy your last seconds of it.”

“You son of a bitch, you murderer, why don’t you just do it and go to hell” I said quietly.

“No they all deserved it” he said in a frightened voice. “You know it; they made fun of you too.”

“Yeah that’s a great reason to kill someone. You don’t get it do you? There’s no justification for what you’ve done. You damned yourself.” 

Something I said seemed to get to him. We stared eye to eye for a moment then something seemed to snap deep within his mind. I saw his sane eyes turn insane as he discarded his gun and ran at me.

I waited until he was almost on me then I dodged him, putting out my uninjured leg to trip him. He fell flat out on his face, and just lay there on the ground.  I quickly picked up the gun I had dropped and pointed it at him. John turned around and got up on his knees his eyes were bulging with a horrible infernal light.

“Do it, kill me” he said.

In that moment the whole terrible day played through my mind. Lunch, Death, horror, fear, terror, blood, guns, and carnage they all ran through my mind. I felt a horrible rage flood through me trying to overwhelm my sanity.

I wanted to kill this coward, this hateful bastard who had butchered so many people. Then something else played through my head. Empathy, life, Susan, Love, the horrid self-loathing I felt for killing, and the idea that if I killed him I would condemn myself forever. I would become what he was a murderer.

In that moment I couldn’t kill him. I looked at the gun, the reality of what it was came to me and I threw it across the room in revulsion. It was only good at killing and maiming and that’s what I used it for. I hated myself the most in that moment, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that thought.
In that moment John Smith darted forward and grabbed my gun. He pointed it at me and walked slowly around me smiling, a big evil smile.

“See your ‘goodness’ makes you weak and it makes me powerful.” He said in a sneering voice “That is why it is us the killers who survive and you the weak ones who perish.”

Then he laughed a high pitched maniacal sound that filled the room with madness. His eyes were filled with red and I could see that my time had come. I felt terror that my death was coming, but then I felt peace. I had done the right thing; a smile played across my face.
This made his laughter stop immediately and he said in a higher pitch of voice.

“What are you smiling at? I’m going to kill you.”

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t need to.  Something about me smiling unnerved him. His hand shook and he screamed out.

“Stop smiling you son of a bitch. STOP!!! I told you to stop smiling.”

He seemed to gather his will to stabilize his hands, but his hands were beyond stability. They shook with a life of their own. BANG!!! He suddenly pulled the trigger. The bullet went clean through my leg awakening a new level of pain.

Through a haze of pain I saw John finally steady his hands pointing the gun at my head.

“Ha! That got you to stop smiling. Now embrace your fate and die.”  He said with unholy glee.

His finger moved towards the trigger, CLANG, his eyes that had only a moment before been shinning with a hellish light turned dull and glassy. He seemed to stand there for hours. Then he crumpled to the ground blood trickling slowly from his ears.

Standing behind him with fiery resolve in her eyes and a frying pan in her hands, was Susan. Susan dropped the pan and ran over to me.

“Why did you come here?” she asked.

“Sometimes you have to go forward to get through Hell.”