How to Stop a School Shooting

Chapter One

Shane McCormick heard a sound he couldn’t identify. Maybe it was the first drop of rain from an oncoming hurricane. It would uproot what people thought to be secure, topple what people thought to be mighty, and destroy their misguided sense of safety. Or perhaps it was a cat on the roof of a car that Shane was passed out in. He heard it again. Then three times in a row. Maybe rounds being loaded into a magazine. The next sound was louder—the palm of a hand striking a bolt catch. Then the clack of a mag being inserted into the well. Shane’s mind faded in and out as he waited for the charging handle to snap into place. But there was silence. Something thumped his cheek. His facial muscles twitched. He was too out of it to open his eyes. Finally, he heard a thud. That had to have been the charging handle. The round is chambered now.

Something cold touched the right side of his face, and it forced him to slowly lift his head. He pulled the foreign object off his cheek and strained to open his eyes. It had a vibrant orange color and a fragrant aroma. It was wet and refreshing. It left his face and hands smelling sweet. Shane thought it was absolutely delightful. He rubbed it on his fingers a bit, then brought them up to sniff them. How majestic!

The other side of his face was wet too, but this wetness was warm like drool. It told Shane he must have been sleeping, but he had no idea for how long. He felt something in his beard and raised his hand to shake it out. An assortment of spitballs and torn pieces of bread fell to the floor.

Shane felt like he was slipping down into a dark drain. His world was becoming lower and darker and tighter. He could hear the infernal gurgling from the center of the drain, the point of no return. The basin must have been cavernous because the sound of the relentless gurgle came at Shane from all sides. It wouldn’t stop. Or perhaps it was the loathsome sound of barking seals. It was haunting and horrible, and it made him angry.

Shane sat all the way up and was able to determine he was at school—actually at school. No drain. No rifle. No cat. No hurricane. He knew he was sitting at his usual table in the corner because it contained a single, lonesome bubble in the Formica.

Shane looked for his lunch tray but didn’t have one. There were no wrappers left over to indicate he’d been eating lunch. He didn’t even have his backpack, art pad, or laptop. His table, which was usually so empty, was littered with wads of paper, pencils, tater tots, apple slices, and orange slices.

An orange slice—that had to have been what hit me. How was it I didn’t know that?

He’d been sleeping with his head on the lunch table, but he didn’t remember entering the cafeteria. He didn’t remember driving to school. The last thing he remembered was taking a few of his mom’s Enzopryn. Or was it a lot?

He turned his head and saw a room full of students, table after table, face after face. They were the same ones who were always there and would be there for a hundred years. They were like props. They were the set design of a play. Shane McCormick was the actor. Shane McCormick... This was the first moment in his impaired mind’s process of waking that he remembered he was Shane McCormick. The details of his entire existence came rushing back to him. Suddenly the orange slice was contemptible. It was boring and quotidian and lacked all magic.

And the students—they were worse. Human fodder! Worthless automatons! They were carbon-based carbon-copies, incapable of anything but base-level responses to stimuli. If you pounded out a beat, they would bob their heads. If you hit their knees with a hammer, they would swing their legs. If you talked about poop, they would laugh.

Human life was a mistake, and it was up to Shane to fix it. The population of the planet was a spill and Shane McCormick bore the onus of mopping it.

Shane still heard the terrible gurgling, but the sound had morphed into laughter. That’s what it had been: cruel, mocking laughter. That’s what it had always been. The students were watching his every move and laughing as usual.

Inside Shane’s mind, the Enzopryn was vying with reality for control. It was like a weak radio signal being picked up by a remote receiver. In one second the effects of the drug would come through strong and clear; in the next second they’d be gone entirely, and he’d be Shane McCormick again.

The laughter from the students continued, and the thought came to Shane’s mind—and this one must’ve truly been the effects of the Enzopryn—that perhaps they were somehow redeemable, that all his mocking tormentors were loved by someone, and that their lives were of infinite worth. Despite their posturing, they were being shoved through the same meat grinder as he. They were all being dragged through the same sewer; was it any surprise they’d all stink?

They were no worse than he. They were all susceptible to the same pressures of teenage life. If they bent under conditions which allowed very few to stand tall, was that reason to hate them? Judge them? Even murder them? Or maybe to reach out a helping hand?

These thoughts were who he was. This was the real Shane; he’d swear to it. While on Enzopryn, he felt like he was standing firmly at the end of a very long and well-built pier. Solid oak. The darkness, chaos, and terrors of the ocean lay beneath his feet and he had to fear none of it. It was medicine, after all. He was self-medicating. This was who he wanted to be. This was the person he abused his health, stole from his mother, and gambled his brain cells, just to be for a little while.

The memory of a question formed in his mind, Life? That was the question—the word life followed by a question mark. People? Society? These were the questions which had preoccupied his brain for the last four years.

Life? It was a referendum on existence itself—not just his existence, but all existence. Is there any value to human life whatsoever? And should Shane McCormick permit it to go on? Shane had begun to see the question as binary—yes or no, go on or end abruptly. The answer Shane formed to this question would be more consequential than anything these laughing simpletons would ever think, say, or do in their entire lives. An affirmative answer would bless every child and newborn baby of this world with love and best wishes. But a negative answer… what would that do?

Demand action, Shane answered his own question. A negative answer to the ultimate question would demand immediate and extreme action. He had the power, not they.

Shane looked around at his jeering schoolmates, having no idea what he’d done to entertain them. The laughter began to die down and he felt something in his hair. He reached his hand up to shake it out, and more spitballs and breadcrumbs fell to the floor. This produced another wave of laughter, and Shane’s receiver lost the signal.

He fell from the safe pier of Enzopryn into the hopeless tempest of Shane McCormick.

He stood up to face the laughing crowd, but suddenly their faces looked demonic, and their eyes shone with a malevolent delight. It horrified him.

Vile demons! Be gone! I hate you. I hate you with the power of an eleven-ton bomb. I hate you like seven hundred rounds of an M16. I will be the cause of your suffering and the day can’t come soon enough. The breath will slip out from your body unmourned. And your flesh will be left for worms and maggots. Truly, the fires of Hell do not burn hot enough for you.

The answer to Life? was No and the answer to People? was his bump stock.

The laughter intensified, and Shane wanted to hide. But there was nowhere to hide. He wanted to flee. He made a move to run, but the demons had frozen his feet and he fell to the ground. He landed hard on his knee, elbow, and jaw, but didn’t actually feel it. He raised his head from the filthy cafeteria floor to look at the crowd. They seemed to move in tighter, ever tighter. He could feel their sulfur breath on his neck and their icy claws piercing his skin, pulling him down, wanting to drag him to eternal damnation.

He was completely surrounded when, stepping through the crowd of demons, he saw a magnificent creature. Her skin was like brushed bronze, dark but with the slightest hints of red-tones in the highlights. Her eyes were like doors that were never locked and always open, like a church or a hospital, offering love and acceptance, giving and giving and giving, asking nothing in return. Night after torturous night, he’d dreamt of finding such a sanctuary, but she was far greater than he believed the world was capable of producing.

She literally put her body between the students’ and his and blocked all the laughter from reaching him. But how was that possible? Their judgment and their mocking had been stabbing him like arrows from all sides, so he couldn’t understand how she could block all of it, but she did. She must’ve had wings he couldn’t see. She must’ve been an angel, and she used her heavenly wings to surround him like a cocoon. Like an embrace. The laughter stopped, and the condemnation was unable to pierce her protection.

The Enzopryn signal was suddenly back, or perhaps it was just her kindness that lifted him from the waves. He considered a proposition that was both brand new and abundant in hope: the answer to Life? was love and the answer to People? was a single teenage girl.

The angel reached down her hand, offering to help him up. But who was he to touch an angel? He dare not touch her! He wasn’t deserving. He tried to get up himself but couldn’t. He made it to his knees but then fell back to the ground and rolled onto his back.

When the intoxicated boy had fallen to the ground a second time, it provoked more laughter. Keisha saw he was in no condition to stand and so did not offer her hand again. She opened her purse and pulled out a small plastic pack of wet wipes she liked to keep handy. She pulled out two and gathered them into a wad. She pressed them against his skin and tried to scrub his forehead clean. As she worked, she chastised herself for not doing anything sooner. She had watched Brody Tanner take a permanent marker to this poor guy’s forehead while he was sleeping, but instead of trying to stop it, she just marveled: Why doesn’t he wake up? There was a lot Keisha did not understand about drugs, and this was her first exposure to anyone in such a condition. But she knew about cruelty, and she knew Brody Tanner was a jerk. She had even watched Brody tie both his shoelaces together. She didn’t laugh like everyone else, but she sure stood by and did nothing.

His face showed no response to her cleaning it. It was strange for Keisha to see how he was there, but also not there. The word on his forehead would not come completely off, but Keisha was happy that she was able to blur it. Satisfied that it would never be read again, she made her way over to his shoes.

She knelt at his feet and bent over him to untie his laces from each other. She had trouble getting the knots out, so it took a long time. The cafeteria was silent, and she looked up to see everyone watching her with a strange curiosity. But none of their faces were quite as ambivalent as the intoxicated boy’s. He watched her with an eerie detachment. His vacant eyes could track her movements—with a little bit of delay—but Keisha wondered how much he actually saw and understood.

She got the laces untied so they were no longer unsafe. He wasn’t in danger of falling like that again. He could walk. So she stood back up and considered walking away herself, but something kept her there in place.

She released a deep sigh and knelt back down beside his feet. With the eyes of the crowd on her—and the blank eyes of the boy—she bent over and tied the laces of both his shoes. The silent crowd now began to murmur. Keisha ignored them as she tied two perfect double slip knots.

Finally, she stood up and reached down her hand again to help him up. This time he took it.

His skin touched hers, and Keisha panicked. She heard a gunshot. Then another. Then another. Rapid fire. Six of them. The cafeteria faded from her sight and was replaced with a series of horrifying visions. She saw students running in fear, crouched down in the hallway, and hiding under their desks. She heard them sobbing, and cursing, and crying out to God for help. She felt their fear. She saw police tape and sirens, ambulances and news vans. She saw students exiting the school in a line, all with their hands up. She saw bodies covered in white cloth. She saw a SWAT team advancing with rifles and officers being led by dogs. She saw students hugging and weeping, and crying into their cell phones with film crews closing in. She saw parents at gravesides and she felt their pain. She saw the intoxicated boy’s face, but he was no longer intoxicated. His clothes were different and he was standing. His eyes were looking down; there was a toothpick hanging from his lips; and his hands were loading a rifle.

Then in a matter of seconds, the visions were gone. She was back in the cafeteria in the present. The boy rose all the way to his feet, and she watched him, still horrified by all she had just seen. His eyes remained staring at her for one chilling second. She saw no life, no soul. He didn’t say a word but turned to leave.

Keisha raised her eyes slowly to finally look back at her fellow students. She saw innocent children. She studied them with eyes that had been changed forever. She knew what they didn’t know. She stumbled a little to sit down so she wouldn’t faint.

Chapter Two

Keisha had one job and she failed. She stood on the doorstep outside Duke Thompson’s party, trapped. Her attempt to press the doorbell had been so timid, she wasn’t sure it actually produced a noise inside. Now she was stuck.

She raised her hand to ring it again but froze. What if it had sounded and I were to trigger it again? Someone is probably making his way to the door right now; how pushy and rude would it seem to ring it again!

Keisha wasn’t even sure if she was supposed to ring the doorbell or just walk inside. Or perhaps there was some secret knock which only the wealthy, good-looking kids knew.

This wasn’t going well. Keisha had hoped to spot Molly outside so she wouldn’t have to walk into this party alone. She was anxious to tell her about the excitement she’d missed at lunch and the vision she received while touching hands with a boy named Shane McCormick. It’s what made Keisha decide to come.

The door still hadn’t opened. She took advantage of the extra time and checked her outfit. Her bright yellow shirt with petal sleeves was cute, but she tugged at the bottom of it, wishing that it covered more of her butt. The red scrunchie, which pulled all her hair to the top of her head, was meant to be sassy. It declared, Who gives a rip what anyone thinks? Keisha was worried people wouldn’t like it.

The door still hadn’t opened. Surely it wouldn’t be rude to ring a second time at this point. She raised her hand, but her heart grew faint. Keisha had been standing there awkwardly for a full five minutes before she decided to just leave. She could talk to Molly on the phone later; she didn’t belong here. There were a million different situations in which Keisha actually liked herself, yet this party had filled her with self-loathing and she hadn’t even made it through the door yet.

She turned to go but heard a click from the door latch. The music instantly grew louder and she saw Duke Thompson appear in the doorway. The expression on his face was far worse than she’d even been fearing—a mix of judgement, condemnation, and something else she couldn’t quite define. Keisha opened her mouth to make a case for her whole existence, but he shoved her out of the way. She shuffled her feet in order to remain standing but Duke tumbled down to the bottom of the steps. A crowd of people pushed through the doorway behind him, nearly knocking Keisha off the steps as well. When Duke reached the grass, he promptly began to vomit.

The crowd remained on the safety of the steps, jeering and laughing. One guy even recorded the terrible scene on his phone. Duke finally stopped retching and tried to pull himself up. His knee slipped and he fell forward into his own vomit, much to the crowd’s delight. Everyone laughed. Someone called out, Puke Thompson! And they laughed some more.

Keisha turned her face away quickly and went inside, more anxious to find Molly than ever.

The living room of Duke’s parents’ house was cavernous and dark. The air smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. There were two huge speakers in the corners, blaring what Keisha assumed was the latest hip-hop mess. She’d never heard the song before, but softer, less obnoxious music was enjoyed by prisoners of war. Keisha picked up on another smell in the air and thought it might be pot, though she’d never actually smelled pot before.

A guy she didn’t recognize was smoking on the couch, but it appeared to be a normal cigarette. Keisha watched in horror as he knocked his ashes straight onto the floor. No one was watching him; they all had their eyes on the couple right next to him making out.

The girl on the couch had brown hair, and Keisha got a bad feeling. She stepped a few paces into the room to see the girl’s face. She was relieved to see it didn’t belong to Molly, but none of the other faces in the room did either, so Keisha headed to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Keisha noticed that an assortment of knickknacks and photo frames had been moved to the corner of the counter, but the bowl of bright red apples strangely remained front and center, right next to an impressive collection of alcohol bottles. She saw Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, Bacardi, Wild Turkey, Smirnoff, Johnnie Walker, Goldschläger. There was enough alcohol for a small village—and that’s if every member of that village had just been dumped.

Keisha remembered the only other time she’d been to one of Duke Thompson’s parties. It was her freshman year, and some of the upperclassmen brought a cooler of beer. One cooler. There were probably six or seven people at that party drinking, total. That was only three years ago but it felt like a lifetime.

Keisha picked up an apple awkwardly, though she wasn’t hungry. She saw that the Thompson’s still kept their step stool folded up and tucked beside the refrigerator, and she couldn’t help but reflect on that first party:

Keisha had awaited Duke Thompson’s party like a child awaits Christmas. She thought about it every day. His parents were out of town and this was the first party Keisha had ever been to that didn’t have adult supervision. She’d felt like she’d finally arrived, like she was embarking on an exciting journey and had just entered into the most wondrous leg of the trip. She was anxious to soak up some of the magic of high school. But half an hour into the party, she discovered it was the most boring party she’d ever attended. There was nothing to do but drink. And those who weren’t drinking just stood there awkwardly like they were waiting for something to happen. The parties in junior high had dancing, or games, or snack trays. Keisha began to wonder if perhaps she’d gotten high school all wrong in her mind.

She had a choice to make. She could float adrift and let her high school experience define her, or she could fight the current and be the one who defined her high school experience. She grabbed the step stool from beside the refrigerator and climbed to the top step. With her chest puffed out and the enthusiasm of a fool, she banged on the side of her Snapple bottle and said, I know a game we can play! Her words were met with pockets of laughter, despite her not having said anything funny.

Keisha pushed on anyway. No, I’m serious. We should totally play hide and seek.

This time everyone laughed.

I’m serious. We’re not doing anything anyway.

The people there stared up at her blankly.

It’s actually fun. I play it all the time with my niece and nephew, she foolishly added.

The people laughed again, and Keisha suddenly realized she was standing on a stool. How absurd. She couldn’t believe the scene she was making. She began to climb down from the stool in embarrassing defeat.

Keisha shrugged off the memory. She was so much younger then. She knew better than to put herself out there like that now. It’s too hard being laughed at, so Keisha had learned to avoid those situations. Perhaps she was just less fearful at fourteen. She hadn’t yet encountered anything in life to fear.

She still hadn’t spotted Molly, so Keisha headed out to the pool. There was a bigger crowd out by the pool. The Thompsons had a large hot tub and about a dozen people were in it. Aubrey Anderson looked incredible with one arm across the edge of the hot tub and one hand holding a red Solo cup in the air just as regally as if it were a champagne flute. Her hair wasn’t wet and her face looked like she spent two hours with a makeup artist—one that really knew what she was doing. She had a beautiful girl on each side of her and they had their arms wrapped around Aubrey like hot girls in a rock video.

Tabitha had failed to bring her bathing suit and sat in the hot tub in just her bra and panties. Greg and Randy were in their boxers. Wendy Taylor had been out of the hot tub for so long she had time to dry, yet she still chose to remain in just her bra and panties. She stood mostly naked in a cluster of fully-clothed young men as if it were an unremarkable occurrence.

Keisha? She heard a voice. It was a male voice, not Molly. She turned to see Levi Young. What are you doing here? he asked, timidly raising his arm to initiate a hug. His words were slurred slightly and Keisha looked down and saw a bottle of Shiner Bock in his hand. Keisha leaned into his hug gladly, and when their bodies touched, she smelled Encounter. He still wears it.

Keisha was folding up the step stool in order to return it to its spot by the fridge when she heard a voice.

I’d like to play.

She turned to see her defender step through the crowd. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a round cherub face. They’d never met, but she knew his name was Levi. She’d seen him before but somehow never noticed how beautiful he was.

It sounds fun, said Levi. He turned to the crowd and said enthusiastically, I think we should play. His smile was so bright and his confidence so hypnotic, he was able to convince everyone there.

And that’s how it came to pass that at Duke Thompson’s first party freshman year, they kicked off their new lives as high schoolers by playing hide and seek.

Keisha pulled out of the hug and took a look at Levi. She smiled. I’m trying to find Molly.

Levi smirked. He looked like he was trying to stop himself from saying something.

Molly Edwards, she emphasized.

That makes more sense, he said.

Levi’s face had held onto its boyish charm but had also grown more angular since their freshman year. His features had become bolder and the lines of his face more committed. It gave him a very attractive sense of manliness. Keisha was surprised and relieved she could look at him and feel so little in her heart. Then he smiled. Heck. The smile was awkward and guarded, but still Keisha had to admit she felt something.

Have you seen her? she asked.

Levi shook his head. He motioned over to two empty seats at a patio table and said, You can come hang out with us, though. Can I get you something to drink? Levi led her to a table before she had the chance to object. The only open spot for her at the table was right next to Brody Tanner, and she had little choice but to take it.

Their chairs were all facing the pool, so Keisha had to turn a bit to see who else was at the table. Brody’s girlfriend, Jessica was there, as well as Daryl Long and one more guy she didn’t know. Keisha waved one smiling greeting to the whole table. Daryl nodded and raised his beer and Keisha thought she saw Jessica blink, so not bad.

Um, Dr. Pepper, she answered as she turned back to Levi.

Brody heard her and laughed out loud without actually looking over to her.

Levi chuckled too, but in a good-natured way. He said, I’ll see if Duke has any. Unlike Brody, Levi was trying to put her at ease. He said, I’m so glad to see you. You don’t usually come to these parties.

She shook her head to confirm. Do you?

Yeah.

All of them? she asked.

Pretty much.

Do you ever think of that night? Keisha ventured.

Levi stared off and smiled.

After Levi had convinced the crowd, they ended up playing hide and seek until after midnight—the drunk and the sober alike—and they all had a blast.

They agreed to play one more round, and Keisha thought it’d be clever to hide in the stables. They’d never defined any area as off limits, but she figured no one would think to look there.

She found a spot tucked in behind the door to the stables, completely shrouded in darkness. She stepped into that abyss and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Shhh! Levi hissed at her, laughing.

I guess we picked the same spot, she whispered.

We? he whispered, urgently. "There is no we. Get out of my spot!"

Keisha huffed and turned to walk off, but Levi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into him. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard what he must’ve heard: footsteps just outside the door. The footsteps appeared to come closer, so Levi pulled her in tighter so that no light would hit her.

They were close enough for her to smell his cologne, a scent she wasn’t familiar with at the time.

I’ve never laughed as hard as I did that night, Levi answered her. What about you? Do you ever think about it?

Keisha looked down. Do kids ever play hide and seek here anymore? She sidestepped actually answering his question.

Levi shook his head. That was the only time. I guess we all think we’re too old.

Yeah, said Keisha, a little sad.

I did try to start it once. I really did. Levi put a hand to his chin, trying to remember what’d actually happened. Oh yeah, I had just gotten everyone to agree to it because I told them how much fun we’d had before. We were arguing about who would count first when Brody showed up with a bottle of Everclear. Levi laughed. Man, that party was epic.

Keisha and Levi were hiding behind the stable door in complete darkness. She was right about no one thinking to check the stables. The two of them grew impatient and began to whisper in each other’s ears. One of them would laugh, then the other would sshhh, but the sshhh would be louder than the laugh. This only produced more laughter, but still they managed to go undiscovered.

Levi leaned in close. With every word he said, she could feel his breath on her ear and neck, and it caused her to tingle all over. She touched his arm. It was strong. He touched her waist and she felt slender and delicate beneath his large hands.

It was the first time she had ever felt an emotion so strong. It was