The Speed of Light: A Novel(61)

But now more than ever, I am afraid to.

I’m saved now by my phone buzzing, and I glance down. Connor. “Do I have time to take this?”

Nikki waves a hand. “Yeah, I’ll save you a seat.”

I plop down on a cushy mauve sofa outside the conference room, where coworkers from various departments are already filing in for the training. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful.”

The connection is scratchy, but somehow hearing his voice manages to push back the fear and doubt for now, and I can’t help but smile. “Hey, yourself. Are you counting down the days until Friday?” There’s a pause, and at first I think I’ve lost the call. “Connor? Are you there?”

He groans. “Well, that’s why I called. I just found out I need to stay a few more days.”

“Why?”

“Dr. Fritz set up another meeting this weekend—I might be able to get an internship with a major liquor distributor next year, and it would be great to see that side of the business.”

I pause, the fear creeping back in. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

His voice is scratchy, and it’s more than just the connection—I’m not used to hearing an edge of tension in his voice. I swallow. “I just . . . I thought you were going to be here Friday is all.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m figuring things out as I go here.” Connor sighs. “It’s all kind of overwhelming, honestly.”

A surge of guilt hits—he’s stressed. I should be supportive. “I understand. So when do you expect to be home?”

“Sunday. And then I promise we’ll spend some—”

His voice stops abruptly. I stare at the phone, screen dark and silent in my hand, until I’m sure that I’ve lost him.

“Is everything all right, dear?”

I look up in surprise into a kind smile and worried eyes behind thick glasses. “Charlene, you’re back!” I shove my phone into my pocket and return her smile. “Everything’s fine—just dropped a call. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was wonderful.” She pats her cheek and chuckles. “I even got some sun.”

I cluck my tongue. “I’m so jealous. The weather was good for the wedding, then?”

She gives a relieved nod—Nikki and I heard all about Charlene’s concerns about her daughter’s outdoor wedding venue at coffee a couple of weeks ago. “Yes, thank heavens. And the reception was beautiful—so much space for the grandkids to run around and work off all that sugar.” She chuckles. “Isn’t it funny how something that seems all wrong can actually be just right?”

Her words jolt me, but I keep my smile. “So true.” I stand. “Well, I’d better get in there. Are you going to the active shooter training?”

Charlene shudders. “No, I’ll be sure to read up on it afterward, though. Your office usually posts a summary, right?” I nod and she smiles. “You take care now.”

We part ways, and as I walk toward the training room, I remember her words—and I hope that even though things seem wrong with Connor right now, everything will be just right after all.



I scramble into the training session at the last minute, apologizing as I bump into people’s knees as I make my way to the seat Nikki saved for me. My eyes scan the room, and I frown. “Where’s Stan?” I whisper.

Nikki shakes her head. “He was here, but then Louise called, and he stepped out.”

As Officer Jackson begins the session by firing up a PowerPoint and welcoming everyone, my thoughts begin to drift between Stan’s mysterious behavior and my own problems. I stare out the window at the sky, squinting to blur the grayness, to blur my thoughts.

“Archer?”

I blink, whip my head around to face the front.

Officer Jackson’s hands are on her hips. “Do you remember what ALICE stands for?”

“Uh, yes.” My voice is a squeak, so I clear my throat, square my shoulders. “ALICE. Alert, Lockdown, Inform, Counter, Evacuate.”

Her nod is firm. “Excellent.” She directs her attention back to the PowerPoint, and I narrow my eyes in concentration as she continues. “Now, ALICE isn’t necessarily meant to be performed in any sort of order. It’s an options-based training method—meaning you do whatever you have to do to survive in the scenario you’re facing. Today is going to be about practicing some of those scenarios.” She nods to Chet, the admissions director. “And I think we’re ready to start. But before we do, does anyone have any questions?”

Nikki raises a hand, and I turn to her in surprise. “Yeah, I get why we’re training, but shouldn’t we also be focusing on the root of the problem?” Officer Jackson furrows her brow in confusion. “Commonsense gun reform. This shit should not keep happening.”

The room is silent, and I bite back a smile of pride. Nikki is such a badass.

From the back of the room, an annoyed sigh—I turn, and Chet is shaking his head, frowning—but when I turn back, Officer Jackson is nodding at Nikki, unfazed. “I appreciate your comment, Ms. Donovan. It’s a topic I’ve spoken on before.” That’s right—last year I wrote a feature about how Officer Jackson speaks at law enforcement forums around the Upper Midwest, and that’s in addition to her job, her role as adviser to the university’s Black Student Union, and instructor at a community self-defense course. “I’d be happy to discuss that with you another time,” she continues, “but since today’s focus is specifically on the ALICE method, I’d like to limit questions to that topic.” She turns to address the rest of the room. “Any other questions?”