Re-Test

Chapter 1

Professor Williams sat behind his desk and gazed out at them. His hand rested on the fucking egg timer.

Brian hated that egg timer. It was the biggest reason why he’d failed the final the first time. A lot of the other teachers used the stopwatches on their cell phones or the clock above the door. Professor Williams—a relic with silver hair—used the same egg timer that had probably marked time for philosophy students since the ‘60’s.

I know that none of you want to be here today, Williams said. I don’t much relish being in class on a Saturday either, but I do this for you.

Mr. Warmth, Cynthia whispered.

Brian looked down at his upside-down test and repressed a snicker. He rolled his yellow pencil back and forth on the desk, relishing the little hard edges that pressed against his fingers.

The material is the same as the first time, Professor Williams said. Though the questions have been reworded to prevent cheating. Are there any questions?

Brian looked around at the other four. They were all at their desks, looking down at their papers. None of them made a sound.

Then you have one hour, Professor Williams said. He wound the egg timer and looked down at the open book on his desk.

Brian flipped his page over and put his name on the top. He read the first question (which asked for a list of St. Thomas Aquinas’s cosmological proofs for the existence of God) and listened to the egg timer buzz. He tried to focus on the question, but that buzz seemed to enter his thoughts and play around in his prefrontal cortex. It was like a bee buzzing just behind his eyes.

Next to him, Cynthia coughed and Brian looked over.

Eyes on your own paper, Williams said. It was almost absentminded.

Brian looked up; the professor’s eyes were still on his book.

St. Thomas, Brian thought. First, that’s how I remember it. A bunch of firsts. Like a kid on a swing. First mover.

Brian began to write, doing his best to block out the sound of the egg timer; he had almost finished with the first answer when a new noise caught his attention.

It sounded like a bomb going off, and it came from the hallway.

Brian’s head shot up and went to the door.

What was that? Cynthia asked.

Professor Williams rose from his chair and walked to the door. Three years ago one of the students set off a series of fireworks after the finals; apparently someone heard about the practice and has decided to repeat it.

Williams opened the door and stuck his head out.

Back in there, a man growled. The voice was deep, commanding.

Williams took a step out of the room. Give me that, young man, nothing good can come—

Another explosion. Brian saw a shower of red fly through the air and rain down by the door. Something splatted against the glass on the door. It stuck there like a wad of gum, pink and soft.

Williams collapsed to the floor, half of his head was missing and the cavity it left allowed Brian a view inside the head of the professor.

The others were screaming and Brian heard the rattle of metal chair legs on the ground, but he didn’t scream and he didn’t move. He continued to stare at the professor’s prone body. In the silence, the egg timer buzzed away.

Brian saw Cynthia run past him, followed by Paul. They were headed for the windows that looked out onto the center courtyard.

A man appeared in the doorway, he wore a white shirt smudged with black and red. He had a bushy black beard and slitted brown eyes. Deep wrinkles radiated out from his eyes and there was a long scar running down his cheek and across his nose.

He held a large gun in his hands. It looked like a shotgun, but Brian didn’t know much about weapons outside of Call of Duty and he wasn’t sure.

Stop, the man shouted. He directed his voice towards the window.

Brian turned his head and saw the other four standing in front of it with their arms raised in the air.

Take your seats.

They sat down.

The man kept his eyes on them and his gun pointed. He used his foot to kick Professor Williams backward. When the body was clear of the door, the man slammed it closed.

He pointed his gun at Brian. You, stand up.

Brian stared at him for a moment, unable to do anything but hear the egg timer and see the bore of the gun.

I told you to stand the fuck up.

Brian rose from his chair. He could feel his legs shaking underneath him and he kept one hand on the desk to steady himself.

The man moved the gun away from Brian. Stand up.

Brian heard a scrapping behind him as another one of the students stood.

You two drag your teacher’s desk in front of the door.

Brian started to walk, stumbled a bit, and righted himself. He looked to his left and saw that Jason had been the other student tasked with the assignment.

Brian took the near side of the desk, the side closest to the door and the gunman. Jason grabbed the other end and pushed. Brian pulled and they dragged the desk across the floor. It scraped and whined as they slid it. By the time they had reached the door, Brian could feel the sweat pouring down his face. A few drops got into his eyes and stung, he resisted the urge to rub them out.

The gunman had moved to one side of the door. He kept his eyes on Jason and Brian and kept the gun pointed at the other three.

Put it right across the door, the gunman said. Block the whole damn thing.

They dragged it longways across the door.

Go sit down now.

Brian returned to his seat. The gunman regarded them. His mouth was turned down in a sneer.

Now the ladies. The two of you stand and get some of those chairs in the back. Put them on top of the desk.

Cynthia and Sarah got up and grabbed some chairs. They piled them on top of the desk until the hallway was completely blocked out. When they were done, the gunman commanded them to sit.

Brian heard the wail of a siren in the distance. The gunman pointed his shotgun at Paul. Get over to the window and close all those blinds.

Paul did as he was told, he was headed back to his seat, but the gunman stopped him.

Get me two chairs and put them in that corner. He indicated the far corner away from the window.

Paul slid two chairs over there and stood waiting for more instructions. The gunman stared at him for a second. Now take your fucking seat, dumbshit.

The gunman sat down in one of the chairs and put his feet up in the other. He looked out over the class, as Professor Williams had done only a few moments ago.

Now, we wait, he said.

Chapter 2

Captain Taylor came with the first wave. He was not used to being one of the first responding officers, but this was not a normal situation.

Murphy and Wilson had pulled in just before him and they were already out of their cars, crouched behind open doors, with their guns trained at the windows of the college.

Taylor got out of his car and called to them. Any more shots fired?

Murphy turned. No sir.

Anyone left in the building?

Besides the hostages, we think it’s empty. Not many students or staff here on a Saturday.

Stand up then will ya.

Murphy and Wilson stood, both of them taking quick glances back towards the window.

There’s gonna be a lot more of us coming, Taylor said. We’ll search the building and set up our positions when they do. For now, I want to talk to the security guard that called it in. Where is he; I want him here.

We sent him to the parking lot, Wilson said. Thought it would be better if he was out of the line of fire.

Now I want you to go get him, Taylor said.

Wilson ran off, crouched low, and Taylor almost laughed at him. Instead he turned his attention to Murphy.

Get me the plans for this building and get me a list of the people in that classroom. I need phone numbers.

And leave you alone sir?

Taylor shook his head. You hear those sirens. In two minutes there’s gonna be thirty of us around here. Until then, I want to get done what we can get done, so stop arguing.

Murphy fired up his car and sped away.

Wilson walked up with a scrawny guy that seemed to be all knees and elbows. He wore a gray shirt that said Alcorn University across it in blue letters. On his belt he had a flashlight, a small can of pepper spray and a walkie talkie.

What’s your name? Taylor asked.

Roger, the man said.

You saw him? Taylor asked.

Yes sir. Roger’s hands were shaking as he nodded. It was like he came out of nowhere. I was in my golf cart just over there. Roger pointed towards the side of the building where the front lawn ended and the concrete courtyard began. The other two buildings framed the center courtyard like a giant upside-down block U.

Which direction did he come from? Taylor asked.

Like I say, it was like he came out of nowhere. I turned the corner and he was just walking down the sidewalk. I thought he looked suspicious so I turned my golf cart and drove back towards the front of the building to watch him.

You didn’t call the police right away?

No. Roger smiled. I’m not like a lot of the other campus security guys. I don’t think I’m some kind of cop. They pay me okay, but I know I’m just glorified security. I wasn’t sure if he was just one of the older students or what.

What happened next?

He pulled the gun out from behind his back and entered the building. I heard the gunshots right away. That’s when I called on my cell.

Taylor gritted his teeth. You know, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Remember Virginia Tech, remember Texas? If you took your job a little more seriously he might be in custody right now. He might not have hostages in there.

Roger balked at him, his face going white, but Taylor didn’t waste too much time looking at him. He turned to Murphy. You’re sure he’s not alone in there?

Roger here says that there was a retest going on today. Professor Williams kids. None of them are accounted for, and neither is the professor.

More cars were pulling onto the scene. Get him out of here, Taylor said. We’ve got a lot of work to do.

Chapter 3

What do you want? Cynthia asked.

They had been sitting in silence for almost twenty minutes according to the clock over the door.

The gunman had been staring at the window. He turned his attention back to them and grunted. I want us to wait here.

There’s police outside, Cynthia said. I’m sure you heard them. Why don’t you just tell them what you want so you can let us go?

The gunman stood up and raised his weapon. Maybe I should just shut up that little mouth of yours?

Leave her alone, Brian said.

That your girlfriend? The gunman asked.

Brian could feel the blush on his cheeks. No.

Then why don’t the both of you shut the fuck up.

The gunman sighed and glanced towards the window. This is real simple. All I want you to do is sit here and stay quiet for a little while and then we can all leave. Nothing to it, is there?

The gunman’s face turned down in a scowl. I asked you a question.

Nothing to it, Brian said.

You all agree?

Yes, the others echoed.

Good. The gunman sat back down and put his feet up.

What’s your name? Sarah asked.

Why would you want to know something like that?

I don’t know, just because.

Call me Butch.

Why did you kill Professor Williams, Butch? Paul asked.

Butch rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. I fucking hate college kids.

He looked out at them. I did it because he wouldn’t stay in the damn classroom. If he’d listened to me, he’d still be alive.

Are you going to kill us? Brian asked.

Butch shrugged his shoulders and let the barrel of the gun drop just a bit. No, he said. Not as long as you all do what I say.

Brian looked around at the others. They were staring at Butch with rapt attention but none of them looked convinced.

What do you want? Cynthia asked.

Butch stood up and looked at the window. The blinds blinked with red and blue light. It pulsed and then died down, pulsed again. Butch turned to them.

What makes you think I want anything?

If you were just a psycho you’d have killed all of us and then killed yourself. Instead, you are holding us here. It’s obvious you want something. Are you in trouble?

Butch looked down at the dirty linoleum where the desk had been. We all are, he muttered.

He raised his head with almost a shocked expression on his face, as if realizing that he wasn’t alone. The five of you, turn your desks to make a circle. That way you can face each other instead of me and just sit there and be quiet.

They twisted their desks in position as Butch sat back down on his chair. His head was down, but his gun was laid across his arm and still pointing in their direction.

Brian was across from Cynthia, Jason and Sarah were on either side of her and Paul was next to him. They sat and looked at each other for several minutes. Brian listened to their breath move in and out and he tried to think about how they could get out of this.

Is he asleep? Paul whispered. He leaned forward on his desk, trying to get as close to the others as possible.

I think so, Sarah said. The cops should shoot teargas or something in here, smoke him out.

We can’t count on them, Jason said. We need to take this guy down or we’re all going to die.

Don’t you think if he were going to kill us that he would have already done that? Cynthia asked.

I think he’s crazy, Jason said. There’s no telling what he’s going to do. You want to try and psychoanalyze him? You can do that after we get out of here.

What are we supposed to do? Brian asked. He looked from Cynthia to Jason. He’s got a gun. None of us have any weapons.

Wrong, Jason said. He leaned all the way across the desk until he chest pressed down against it. I’ve got a hunting knife in my pocket. I carry it wherever I go.

You’ve got to get behind him, Paul said. If one of us can distract him long enough for you to sneak up on him, you can stab him. Then one of us can grab the gun. We can end this.

That sounds like a good way to get killed, Cynthia said. What’s to stop him from just shooting us all?

He needs us, Sarah said. You said it yourself; if he just wanted to kill us he would have already done it. He wants us alive for some reason.

I’ve got a plan, Jason said.

They all leaned in to hear it.

Chapter 4

Blue sawhorses had been set up around the scene. The parking lot and all the roads in and out of Alcorn College had been blocked. There were twenty-three police cars parked at various angles on the grass and sidewalk. Two SWAT vans were parked on the other side of the building.

Men had been staged at the two back entrances of the building and at each of the windows. The rest of the uniformed cops were in and around the courtyard. Snipers had been positioned in each of the windows at the building across the way.

They had done a final sweep of the building and found no one else.

Captain Taylor stood next to his sedan and looked down at several Xeroxed photographs. Five students and one professor, none of them accounted for.

Quinn, the commanding SWAT officer, stood next to Taylor.

As many as six hostages, Taylor said. I’ve got cell numbers for all of them.

With the blinds closed we don’t have eyes on the room, Quinn said. That’s priority number one.

Can you get pin cameras in there somewhere? Taylor asked.

As soon as you give us access to the building.

I want to talk to him first, Taylor said.

All due respect sir, if I get a camera in there and can tell my men where to aim, you aren’t going to need to talk to him.

Taylor tapped the stack of photos against his legs. I understand your position. But shooting has risks. I don’t care how accurate your men are, we’re not going to risk opening fire on that room until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.

Any idea who he is?

None. All I know is that he’s carrying some kind of modified shotgun. At least that’s what the piss-ant that saw him said.

Powerful weapon, but it’s slow. I doubt he’d even get a shot off if we fired on him.

Taylor threw his hands in the air. Go tell your guys to be ready. Study those plans I gave you and give me some kind of access point for a camera. One that won’t be noticed.

Quinn shook his head as he walked away. Taylor looked after him and felt the rage dying away. Now was not a time for petty emotion. Now was a time to be cool-headed.

He looked down at his stack of papers and picked the one on top, it was as good of a place to start as any. Taylor took out his cell phone and dialed the number underneath the picture.