Interim(128)

He heard the click of the rifle. Locked and loaded. Instant sweat under his arms, dotting his hairline, prickling the backs of his knees.

“You drop to your knees, and I’ll blow your head off,” she warned him.

Brandon stood up slowly, the keys hooked around his index finger, jangling with the shivering of his body. He drew in his breath.

“I won’t let someone die because of me,” he said. His breathing came faster. “Hannah, I’m sorry—”

Blast!

He dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Screams filled the room. The bullet pierced his forehead. Dead on impact. Blood spilled out, sprayed out, splattering students’ faces and coating their hands as they crawled toward him. Casey pressed her palm over the gaping bullet hole, trying to ignore the brain tissue that oozed from the back of his head against her bare knees.

“You’re okay,” she croaked idiotically, pressing hard to stop the flow of blood. “You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on.”

“Ethan! Brandon couldn’t give me the keys! You try!” Hannah called.

Casey looked back at Ethan, watching the tears stream from his eyes. He shook his head.

“I’ll come find you,” Hannah taunted. “I’ll blast anyone who gets in my way. Is that what you want? Do you want me to kill innocent kids for you?”

Ethan groaned, clutching his head and rocking back and forth.

“You know you don’t want me to do that . . .”

Ethan looked frantically around, searching for another hiding spot. He glanced at Casey, passing the unspoken message: “I’m making a run for it.”

“Ethan, don’t!” Casey screamed. “Where can you go?”

He shot up and ran to the other side of the room.

Blast!

A collective cry filled the room as Ethan dropped. The bullet penetrated his upper back. He writhed and coughed for a few seconds before going still. Permanently.

“Alexia, stand the f*ck up!” Hannah shouted.

“No no no no no no!” came a terrified voice from the corner of the room.

“You can do it!” Hannah screamed. “I know you can! Or how about Micah? Jon? Tara! Tara’s in here somewhere, aren’t you Tara, you little f*cking bitch!”

“Nobody stand up!” Jeremy shouted, crouched under the table with Regan. He dropped to his knees the moment Hannah pulled the trigger on Brandon.

“Fuck you, Jer!” Hannah spat. “You betrayed me! You turned your back on me!”

Slight shuffling. Jeremy watched Hannah’s feet move to the left of the room. She was headed toward Alexia.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, bracing for impact.

A plea for mercy. A refusal. A gunshot.

Shrieks.

“CASEY! Maybe you can give me the keys!” Hannah called, moving to the front of the room once more.

Jeremy turned to Regan and communicated silent instructions with crude sign language. She shook her head frantically when she understood his plan. He was going after Hannah.

She tugged on his arm as he started toward his target. He stopped and looked back.

“It’s okay,” he mouthed.

She grabbed the front of his jacket—a last effort to force him to stay with her.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Regan,” he whispered, searching her eyes.

“Promise,” she demanded.

“I promise,” he said, then crept soundlessly under the tables toward Hannah.

Regan turned to Casey, who was crying hysterically.

“Do not stand up,” she said to her friend, crawling toward her.

“Shut your mouth, Regan!” Hannah cried. “Casey! Get up!”

Regan shook her head, pressing her finger to her lips.

Casey’s eyes went wide. “No, Regan!”

But Regan already made the decision—just like her victory goal. She envisioned it. She willed it to happen. Just like now. She envisioned standing up and distracting Hannah to give Jeremy the few precious seconds he’d need to take down the gunman. No, it wasn’t part of Jeremy’s plan, but she knew she had to do it in order for him to have a chance.

She stood up.

“You’re not Casey,” Hannah said. “Sit down.”

“No.”

Hannah growled. “You wanna be a hero?”

“No.”

“Good, because you can’t be. I’m the hero,” Hannah said.