Listen to the audiobook of this chapter:

  “A man has taken Shadleport Elementary School hostage.”

  I had thought the terror attack in Bruchette three weeks earlier has been bad – a building entirely disappearing, nobody having any real idea how, and then a Yedrimor terrorist organization coming out of nowhere to claim responsibility.

  But what had me sitting frozen with my heart in my throat now was not just that innocent children had been caught up in something deadly, but also that Shadleport Elementary was one of only three elementary schools in my city. Not some random city somewhere in the world, it was in my hometown.

  You see all these horrible things on television and hear about all the killings and bombings and terrorist attacks, but they’re always in another city, and usually in another country. It’s upsetting, but it doesn’t affect your daily life. You feel sad for the people who lost their family or friends, but you can go on with your day without much change. You might try to imagine how you would feel in the same situation, but you know you can’t actually understand, and don’t know if you want to. You think, “These are things that happen to other people, not me.”

  You never expect it to happen to you.

  Someone had entered the elementary school during the middle of a school day with two small handguns in tow. Teachers had been able to call out for help before the man could subdue them, but nobody had escaped. There were reports of gunshots, and police had set up a perimeter around the school and cordoned off all roads within a three block radius. All schools in the area had been locked down.

  Police had negotiators and bomb squads on site, with Special Forces on the way, by the time the news stations started reporting on it. The man, however, did not seem interested in talking. When the police had initially called the school office, the man inside had said, “I’m doing this for the children” and told them there were motion-activated bombs set up all around the building. If anyone tried to go in or out, they would detonate unless he turned them off first.

  Though the news was there, they couldn’t really give many details about what was happening. It’s not like public news stations were going to get live feeds of the phone calls between the police and the man inside. At least, that’s what I thought as I watched it, which is why it was a surprise to everyone when, after the negotiator got off the phone for the fourth time and spoke with the police, the chief walked over to the news reporters and told them he needed to say something.

  “The man says his name is Joshua Thomas. School district administrators say he is a janitor at the school. He says that he’s watching the news from inside the school. Mr. Thomas, I’m prepared to deliver your message if you hold up your end of the deal first.”

  The chief turned back to the building and the camera followed his gaze. From one of the side doors, a teacher and child exited the building. Slowly at first, with the adult looking over her shoulder, then both at a run. They were received by police just outside the fence surrounding the school property. Nobody tried to enter the grounds.

  The chief nodded and turned back to the camera. “Mr. Thomas requests that we give you the following message.” He looked down at a paper in his hands and read.

  “ ‘The world is a god-awful place. People killing each other everywhere, families being torn apart. Weapons of destruction that nobody even knows how they work. Terrorists are running rampant around the world, killing anybody they think deserves it and even more who don’t. But they don’t care anymore. Children shouldn’t grow up in a world like this. They shouldn’t have to see this kind of death so young. They should be happy and carefree, not surrounded by blood and murder. And if you don’t believe that’s what they see, well, they do now. So you go tell the world that it’s gotta get itself together if we want our children to grow up happy.’ ”

  It was later revealed that Joshua had told the negotiator if they told the news what he had to say, he would let everyone go. He just wanted to scare them a little, but never meant to hurt anyone. The negotiator said if he let some people out, he might be able to convince the chief of police to pass along a message. The man had agreed to let two people go, but if anyone tried to approach the building, he’d blow it up before anyone could enter or escape.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The police could have tried waiting until dark, when the bombs would probably become inactive, and the guns certainly would, but they didn’t dare risk waiting. Nobody knew just how unstable someone who was willing to threaten an entire school of children really was. So they agreed to the initial compromise, hoping that he would hold up the second half of the deal and let everyone else leave afterwards.

  When they called him back, he reportedly apologized for lying to them, but he meant what he said that kids shouldn’t grow up in the kind of place our world had become. He hadn’t even hung up the phone before the entire building imploded.

  He hadn’t been lying about the explosives.

  I was still staring in shock at the television when my phone rang. Startled, I looked at the incoming number. Aaron. My heart stopped as I remembered something I should have thought of earlier. I glanced at Kathy in distress and said, “I have to take this.”

  She nodded as I pressed the “answer” button and stepped out of the room.

  “Aaron…” I could barely breathe. I didn’t hear anything on the other end at first. “Aaron, was Val…?”

  I heard a sob. “She… she… she…. she was….”

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say anything. At eleven years old, Val was in fifth grade and attended Shadleport Elementary.

  “Maybe… maybe she got out before… Maybe she wasn’t…” I whispered. All I heard was crying. I’d known Aaron for five years, and I’d never heard or seen him cry before, not even when his mother died. “God… Aaron… I don’t know what to say…”

  He sobbed. I felt tears begin to roll down my cheeks. “I’m… I’ll be over after work… Two hours…” I said weakly.

  “What… what about… your… scho…” He hiccupped and stopped short.

  “School can fuck off. This is more important.”

  “O…. ok….” He managed.

  “Hang in there, Aaron,” I replied. “I’m here for you.”

  I hung up the phone and walked stoically back into the bedroom with Kathy.

  “What happened?” She asked gently.

  “It was Aaron. His sister… his….” I choked and broke down crying. Kathy made soft comforting sounds until I could talk again. “His little sister Val goes to Shadleport,” I finally managed to say.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “Was she….?” she gestured to the TV.

  I nodded, still crying. “She was at school today. We can’t know for sure but….” I looked at the TV, which Kathy had muted, and which was still showing the ruins of the school. “How… how will they know? … There’s nothing left…..” I trailed off.

  It wasn’t precisely true. Unlike the high-rise in Bruchette, there was rubble leftover from this bombing. The building had basically collapsed in on itself. Perhaps there were still people alive underneath. Maybe some of the children survived. Maybe some telepaths with the police would be able to detect mental cries for help after the sun went down. I took what small amount of hope I could from that idea.

  “Do you need to go see him?” She asked softly, kindly.

  I shook my head. “No. No, I can wait until I’m done with work.”

  Kathy looked at me with understanding in her eyes. “What I mean is, you should go to him. He needs you more than I do right now.”

  “But… but I’m here…”

  She shook her head. “I’ll explain to your job if I need to. I’ll be fine on my own for a couple extra hours today. Go on. You’ll just be a mess if you stay here.”

  I nodded, still crying, and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Kathy.”

  I quickly packed the schoolwork I’d been poking at before the events at the school occurred and headed out to the bus stop. Checking the bus schedule, I gave Aaron a call on the way, letting him know I got off work early and would be there in about twenty-five minutes. He mumbled something in understanding and hung up.

  I texted Mikael while I rode the bus.

  Attack on the elementary school where Aaron’s sister goes.

  There was no response right away, so I decided to just leave the message for him when he got up.

  He blew up the building with everyone inside. Val was at school today.

  I paused, not knowing how to say the rest of it. After several minutes of trying, I sighed and put away my phone. Being near midday, the bus was moderately full and any chatter I could catch was about the bombing. I sighed again and stared out the window until I reached Aaron’s place.

  I let myself in when there was no answer at my knock. I found Aaron sitting on his bed, staring at a muted television, the phone sitting forgotten in his lap.

  “Hey,” I called softly.

  He glanced up at me, stoic for a moment. When he opened his mouth to reply, a sob shook him and he just started crying again.

  I sat down next to him and held him gently. It felt strange to me, since it was usually him comforting me. But I just sat there with him until he was able to speak again.

  “Robert says she was at school today,” he finally whispered. I nodded over his head. “They haven’t found any survivors yet. Nobody on the playground. No shouts from the rubble.”

  He started shaking again and I held him closer. I didn’t know what to say. What can anyone possibly say to someone who just lost their only remaining family?

  We sat together for a long time while the news silently played on the television. We spoke little, but it was enough that we were together. I got up at one point to find us some dinner, but neither of us had much of an appetite. The search teams continued after dark, Telekinetics lifting rubble and Telepaths listening for any mental “shouts” from people trapped underneath. Two survivors were found and rescued that night. Neither were Valorie.

  I offered to stay over on the couch, if he wanted the company, but he said I should go home and sleep in a real bed, that he’d be ok. I reluctantly left, wishing there was more I could do for him.