I woke up with a sort of bittersweet happiness. I checked that the suit was still in my backpack. I hadn’t touched it since the hospital fight. The mask was still shattered, the frame was bent in several places. I zipped up my bag. In the bathroom across the hall from my room I brushed my teeth and applied acne medication. I held the brush and considered brushing my hair, but decided against it. I looked deep into my grey eyes and gave myself a wide toothy grin.
Psychologists say if you smile in the mirror once a day it reduces the effects of depression.
Not that I’m depressed, anyway.
I put on a black athletic t-shirt, and some black shorts. The weather was getting too hot to wear jeans. Then I made my way to the front door and into the car with mom. She was waiting for me at the door in her usual pantsuit, and she shoved a paper bag full of food into my backpack. Without a word we made our way out into the dull morning world. I once again sat in the backseat of her car.
“Jacob?” Mom asked.
“Yeah?” I asked back.
“We’re gonna go to the city next week. Okay? Just me, you, and dad. That sound good?” She said.
“What are we gonna do?” I replied.
“Well we have to do a follow up doctor’s visit. After that we’ll go to the arcade and zoo.” She explained cheerily.
“Alright.” I responded dryly.
We don’t speak again for the rest of the drive. Like every other morning, I walked up those dull grey steps and made my way into the student center of the high school. Then I wandered over to Danny and started up a conversation. He was reading the same book, though I could see by the bookmark that he’d be done soon and he’d have a new book to read. Soon after Mar and Emily arrived, and we briefly chatted before class. Then the bell rang and I went to my seat beside Emily in history.
“Church was fun.” I said, trying to make small talk.
“You seemed pretty uncomfortable.” She murmured.
“I was. I’m not used to so much… in one place.” I explained. She didn’t say much of anything in response.
“I didn’t know you could play the drums.” I said
“My dad taught me. He was in a garage band when he was younger.” She smiled.
“Woah, really?” I asked, shocked.
“Yeah. They really sucked.” She laughed a little. “But he was really great.”
“If he sounded like you, I bet he was. What about your mom? What’s she like?” I asked.
“She’s… A very driven person. Very short tempe-” She was interrupted by the slamming of a door.
Mr. Johnson looked terrified. He was breathing hard. He opened the door quickly, and screamed at a few kids to come to his class, before slamming it back shut. He wiped sweat off of his brow. Panting, he walked over to the middle of the classroom. I heard loud crashing noises come from outside and a series of blood curdling screams.
The intercom crackled as it started up.
“We are in a lockdown. This is not a drill. We have an intruder. Do not leave your rooms.” An inhuman automated voice said on repeat.
I looked over at Emily. She looked absolutely horrified. Mr. Johnson turned off the lights and everyone was quiet, as if that would stop whatever was outside. I had an idea of what was out there.
…
It was a kid. That, Jones knew for sure.
He heard it. Jones wasn’t stupid. He knew where the kid went to school, it was the same place Jones’s smart mouthed step kid went to school.
Covered in full concrete armor, Jones walked down the sidewalk leading to the high school. The pavement made crackling noises beneath him as his boots fell. His face was covered in an unending cloud of dust yet he could see perfectly fine. His giant stone fist swung awkwardly as he marched, and the spear even more so.
As he made it to the steps, he lost his balance and fell down on his first step. The added weight of the armor made it hard to move. Eventually he got the hang of it. Jones saw the first set of glass doors.
Should I knock? Jones thought.
He slammed his stone fist hard against the bulletproof glass door. It shattered into a spiderweb pattern with the first hit. He pulled his arm back for a second strike and the entire glass door and nearby windows exploded outward. The secretary screamed as she saw him enter. He looked over at her. A middle aged woman, she was on the phone trying to contact the police.
He shoved his spear through her throat. The last sound she made before he let her drop was a guttural sort of cry. Jones saw the second set of glass doors and opted to use the spear this time. It took only one strike for the glass to shatter. He grabbed the metal frame, ripped it from the wall, and tossed it aside.
As he stepped into the student center glass crackled under his heavy feet. Everyone scattered in different directions. He grabbed a nearby bench that was bolted to the ground, but with one hand Jones ripped it from the stone floor. He tossed the bench at a girl. Her legs let out a crunch. She let out a scream that hurt his ears as Jones walked over to the girl. Jones crouched down next to her. She was muttering some sort of prayer under her breath. He let the dust leave a small hole near his mouth. He leaned in close to her ear and she whimpered through tears.
“I hope that hurts.” Jones whispered.
Come on out, you little freak. Jones thought.
He stood up and looked around the now empty student center. He walked over to the lockers and ripped them out of the ground. He tossed them one handed effortlessly into the walls, smashing them into a thousand pieces. He walked slowly, hindered by weight rather than calmness or thought. With more armor and thus more weight, each step is more effort.
When he found the nearest classroom, he pulled his spear arm back and shoved it straight through the door.
If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will. Jones thought.
After weakening the wood further with another strike of the spear, he kicked the door hard with his stone boot. It didn’t just fly open like it would under normal circumstances. It was ripped from the hinges and fell on the ground of the classroom. When Jones stepped in the pitch black classroom he heard a noise to his left. By the time he looked over into the darkness he felt something metal smash hard against his head.
He fell to his knee, with his head lowered. He looked up at the figure that had bludgeoned him, and his face was met with another blow. The attack was too close to provoke a reaction from the dust, thus no armor formed to protect him. The second blow knocked his head against the wall. Jones found himself on the ground, staring up at the figure that was attacking him. The dust allowed him to see clearly in the dark.
The figure was wearing sunglasses and a bandana. It was wearing dark clothing. It definitely wasn’t a girl. Tall, with dark hair, and muscular arms and legs. The figure was holding a metal chair high above his head. He slammed it down one more time but Jones was ready this time. He instinctively threw his arm up to block.
The chair slammed down and broke into several pieces. Sections of it clattered against the carpeted classroom floor. The figure resorted to grabbing a leg of the chair and using it instead. Jones grabbed the leg and yanked it from the boy’s grip. Jones grabbed the boy’s wrist and shattered it around the firm grip of his stone hand. It made a cracking sound.
The boy was in too much shock to feel the pain, it seemed, because he didn’t even scream. He just looked at Jones through his sunglasses. Jones could feel the fury in his stare despite them. With his hand still gripping the boy’s wrist, he threw him across the room. The dust cloud didn’t extend far enough for Jones to ‘see’ the boy crash, but he could hear the smashing noise of him colliding with desks. Jones let out a raspy laugh.
“Thought you were tough, huh?” Jones laughed.
Jones saw another student coming at him in the dark. The student leapt at him in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. Jones lifted up his spear arm at the last second and it tore right through the boy’s lower ribs. Blood soaked and dripped down the spear. This boy was much larger than the first. Wearing a now torn football jersey. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as Jones threw him to the side. His last sound was a gasp.
“Any more heroes?” Jones asked the students he couldn’t see.
There was no response.
“Let’s get to work, then.” Jones said.
He walked forward before encountering a group of teens hiding in the corner. A boy and three girls. He grabbed the boy and lifted him off the ground. He shoved the spear through his throat and tossed him aside. Then, he grabbed one of the girls. Jones grabbed her face with his large hand. He slammed her head hard into the stone wall. Hard enough that it completely crushed her skull in his hand. She didn’t even scream. The girl to the left of her remained frozen. The one on the right tried to run. Jones grabbed her wrist mid escape and twisted it. It shattered easily. He yanked her forward as she fell on her knees, and stared up at him with tears in her eyes.
“Please. I- I….” She pleaded.
Jones speared her through the heart without hesitation. The last noise she made was a squeal. The other girl somehow managed to escape her trance and ran past Jones. Jones reached for her, but paused as he saw the boy with the bandana walk into the range of his dust. Jones turned to the boy. The boy was silent as he pulled out a handgun and fired. The dust tried to solidify. The bullet ripped through Jones’s cheek. The dust tried to heal him, but the shock of the impact left Jones unconscious on the ground.
…
I climbed through the open window of Mr. Johnson’s classroom. It was effortless for me. Emily followed right behind me. My heart pounded like a jackhammer against my chest. I felt light headed as I saw the swarm of children running off the campus through open windows. I ran right beside Emily, following Mr. Johnson. I heard sirens approaching from the road but didn’t stop to investigate or worry. I just kept running.
Eventually Mr. Johnson stopped at a nearby parking lot, but I kept running, and Emily kept running beside me. We ran for several blocks off of pure adrenaline. We didn’t stop or talk for even a second. We stopped directly on my front porch. My lungs burned like air was made of fire. My legs ached as I collapsed onto my front porch. Eventually after several seconds of us trying desperately to breathe, Emily spoke up.
“Should… Should we go inside?” She asked.
“Doors…. Doors…. Door is locked.” I choked out.
We both sat on the front porch. It was a nice April day. It was warm outside but the sun was obscured by clouds. A gentle breeze blew through the neighborhood and brushed against the trees. Emily started to burst into tears. My mom called me at some point, and she was in tears. I told her that I was at home. Then her car pulled up, along with my dad’s. Emily’s dad called her, and she said she was with me. Eventually her dad was there too. We went inside. I stared into the nothing and wondered….
How many people died today that I thought would outlive me.
…
Jack still had the pistol held firmly in his hand. Everyone else had left the classroom. They’d all called their families, their parents. Jack didn’t know his real dad’s name, and his mom was dead because of the bastard laid out on the floor. So Jack took off his bandana and sunglasses, turned on the lights, and watched the figure as he slowly bled out on the ground.
The bastard had broken his wrist, but Jack was ambidextrous. As the police arrived outside Jack placed the handgun against the back of the bastard’s bald skull. He even pulled the hammer back. Whatever the cloud that had been around his head had gone back into the armor or into the open hole in his cheek.
Jack was confident that he could blow his step dad’s brains out.
You got my mom hooked on drugs. You took my mom away from me.
You tortured me.
You went to prison and became this…
Thing. I’m practically doing you a favor.
You took everything from me. Everything.
Jack’s hands shook hard as he put his index finger against the trigger. Jack heard cops approaching, and let out a sigh. He tossed the gun aside, far away from the reach of the downed Jones, and walked calmly to the cops. They lead him outside and into the back of an ambulance. The entire ride over Jack can only think of one thing.
I should’ve shot him.
…
I heard the list of casualties and injuries over the tv:
The secretary. Cement-Suit opened up her throat. She always said hi to me in the mornings.
Amy Bates. Legs crushed. I genuinely don’t know what to feel.
Josh, a football player. Speared through the ribs. Big guy. He was always nice to the special kids.
Tom. Speared through the throat. Very quiet. I’ve had a few conversations with him during Academic Team. He wanted to be an oncologist.
Lauren. Skull smashed. She seemed like she didn’t have any friends. Never talked to her. Kinda wish I did now.
Rose-Elizabeth. Speared through the heart. I once helped her with a math question way back when.
Jack Golding. Wrist crushed, several bones broken. Isn’t that the guy I saved last week?
I sat, staring at the tv screen.
This is my fault.
I should’ve stopped him.
Next Chapter
