Joe (29 page)

Chapter
Eighty-Five

Joe

…for
this. But I had come too far. It was too late to turn back now and change my
mind. And if I’m being honest, I spared no thought for this either. I had only
two thoughts that mattered.

Don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill.

The third time, I did.

The fourth time,
BANG!BANG!
was
just overkill. But it worked. The Shadowman fell face forward on the…

Chapter
Eighty-Six

Michael

…pavement,
and Michael just stood there staring, as solid and immobile as the jaguar
statue that stood just up ahead. He watched the gunman warily for what seemed
like a long time, and when he finally looked up to find the raven-haired girl,
he saw that…

Chapter
Eighty-Seven

Claire

…she
had killed the gunman. Then Claire lost consciousness, the pain in her shoulder
and leg finally pulling her into the blackness. But she pulled two things down
into the darkness with her, two thoughts that she would remember
(if?)
when
she woke up. The girl had hair the color of a raven and eyes an odd and
unforgettable mixture of silver and…

Chapter
Eighty-Eight

Mina

…blue
and she marched right past them, where Mina lay on the sidewalk with her boy in
her arms, and the man who had taken a bullet for him lying beside them. For a
moment Mina thought she should call out a thank you to the girl, but she seemed
to be in a hurry to get…

Chapter
Eighty-Nine

Joe

…out
of there. I didn’t look around me. I didn’t check to see if anyone was
watching. The time to follow the fourth and final rule Mr. Landry had given me
had come. I shoved the gun back into my jacket pocket and pulled the hood up
over my head.

You get out of there, soldier. Don’t you
pay no mind to nothing or no one around you. You set your sights on the exit
and make like a banana and split, you got me? That’s an order.

And it was one I fully planned on
following. The pain in my ankle was growing stronger, and heat and throbs were
starting to pulse up my leg. I was dripping sweat and my temperature must have
been high enough to stifle my lungs, because breathing seemed to be quite the
labor. But by the grace of God, I found I could run. Well, maybe
jog
is
a better word, and this was good. It meant that the bullet had more than likely
just grazed me. If it had connected fully with my ankle, I wouldn’t have even
been able to walk.

I focused on nothing other than the
exit, and I reached it faster than I thought I would, shoving past a few people
who were still blocking up the way. When I finally made it out of the Quad, I
saw my El Camino waiting for me by the curb, and I have never in my life been
more overjoyed by the sight of it. This was the real reason I had come to
school so early. This side of the Quad, the west side, was the only place where
curbside parking was allowed. These spots were always the first to be taken. I
had gotten here early enough to nab one, and I realized now that that had been
a really awesome decision.

Sliding behind the wheel of the car, I
found my hands were shaking too badly to get the key into the ignition as
swiftly as I would have liked. On the third try, I got it. Three seemed to be
my lucky number today.

Surprisingly, it was easier to get out
of the campus than I had anticipated. This was another advantage of my prime
parking spot. The parking lots were probably jammed packed with people trying
to escape in their cars. Before I knew it, I was hopping on Highway 71
southbound, and the realization that I had made it out finally hit me.

Going northbound, what seemed like
dozens of police cruisers raced by with their sirens screaming and their lights
flashing. I tensed as they zoomed by me in the opposite lanes, and watched them
in my rearview for a moment as they exited the freeway and sped toward UMMS.

It’s over, boys. You missed it. It’s
over.

That was all my mind could handle, so I
held on to that thought as I drove back to my apartment in Peculiar.

It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

But really, when you’re like me, it’s
never
really over, is it?

Chapter
Ninety

Joe

I
climbed the steps to my apartment slowly, trying to keep as much weight off my ankle
as possible, and was not surprised to see Mr. Landry waiting outside his
apartment door. When he saw me, his right hand reached up and rested over his
heart, and the look of pure relief on his face was so great that I felt my eyes
fill up with tears instantly.

Mr. Landry opened the door to his
apartment, and I went inside without question, taking a seat at the kitchen
table. He left me there for a moment and returned holding a first aid kit. Then
he took a seat in the chair opposite me and patted his left leg twice. I lifted
my ankle onto it, and he pulled the bottom of my jeans up to get a look at the
wound.

“Just a graze,” he mumbled, more relief
flashing across his old face. “Lucky.”

At this, I surprised myself by bursting into
laughter. I didn’t know why I was laughing, but tears streamed down my face as
I did so, and it was an odd, opposing feeling. The laughter died out quickly,
and then I just sat silently as more tears escaped my eyes.

Mr. Landry cleaned my ankle and bandaged
it. He didn’t ask me any questions, or try to make meaningless conversation.
For this, I was grateful. If I was pushed into talking about the reasons why
tears were running down my face I would be forced to
think
about those
reasons. And I would. But later. Not right now. Just…not right now.

When he was finished, he got me a glass
of orange juice. I forced it down, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

Mr. Landry said, “You done good, Joe.
You done good. Now I think you ought to go get some rest. Come on.”

Mr. Landry walked me into my apartment
and took off my shoes for me as I climbed into bed. Pulling the covers up to my
chin, he pulled two blue pills out of his pocket and grabbed a bottle of water
that was on my nightstand. He handed them to me.

“Take these,” he said. “They’ll let you
sleep.”

Mr. Landry took his gun out of my jacket
pocket and slipped it into his own as he hung my jacket on the side of my bed.
“You just rest now. Ain’t nothing or no one gonna bother you. Ima sit right out
there in your living room and make sure of that. You sleep as long as you need
and don’t you worry about nothing.”

I swallowed the pills dry and shut my
eyes. Sleep sounded like the best thing in the world right now.

He drew the shades down in my bedroom,
and a more complete darkness surrounded me. I felt myself beginning to slip
away, and that was more than good.

Just before he shut the door to my
bedroom, I heard Mr. Landry say, “You done good, girl. I’m real proud of you.”

Then I heard nothing at all. And that
was good, too.

Chapter
Ninety-One

Joe

“…shooting
at…resulted in four deaths…others wounded…critical condition…”

When I awoke, there was no sunlight
peeking in from around the drawn shades of my bedroom windows. I rubbed my eyes
and pulled myself into a sitting position. Glancing at the clock hanging above
my mirror I saw it was ten p.m. I threw the covers off and climbed out of bed,
wincing when my ankle throbbed. The pain seemed to snap me into reality, and
the events of the day came back to me in a dizzying rush.

“…the shooter…Daniel Deaton was found
shot dead at the scene…police investigating…explosives…”

It took me a moment to realize that the
voice I was hearing was coming from the television in my living room.

Daniel. The Shadowman, his name is Daniel.
Was
Daniel.

I barely made it into my bathroom before
bile rushed up my throat and came spewing out of my mouth. Clinging to the rim
of the toilet, I found that I was shaking all over. Eventually, I found my
feet, brushed my teeth and washed my face. A few moments later, I wandered into
my living room where I found Mr. Landry sitting on the couch in front of my
television. I took a seat beside him, my eyes glued to the screen. The ten o’
clock news had just begun, and you could probably guess what their top story
was.

“If you’re just tuning in, at around
noon today a shooting occurred on the main campus of the University of Midwest
Missouri State. Police officials have confirmed four dead, including the
alleged gunman, a student at the University by the name of Daniel Deaton, who
was shot dead by an unknown shooter—”

I looked over at Mr. Landry. He looked
back at me. We turned our attention back to the reporter.

“…Police are investigating the identity
of this unknown shooter, hoping that witnesses may be able to provide leads. As
of right now, there are no known suspects. Four explosives were also found
hidden in various locations around the campus, but police confirm the devices
have been removed and the grounds are now cleared. We go now to Gail Heart for
more breaking news on this story.

“Thank you, Sharon. If you tuned in to
our earlier broadcasts, you know that the alleged gunman, Daniel Deaton,
allegedly left a box at our Channel Five News station. Police have since
confiscated the box and all of its contents, but—”

Mr. Landry shut off the television. I
released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and sat staring at the
black television screen. Mr. Landry allowed me my silence, for which I would
normally have been grateful, but I found the quiet seemed to be suffocating me.
It was too at odds with the noises sounding off in my head.

BANG! BANG! RUN! Daniel Deaton. BANG!
BANG! Shadowman. Four confirmed dead. Don’t hesitate. BANG! Shoot to kill…

My mouth fell open. “I-I-I,” I said. I
covered my face with my hands.

“Say it,” Mr. Landry said, making me
jump in surprise. “Say it now. Just this once, and then never, ever say it
again.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and
irritated.

“I killed him,” I said, the words falling
quietly and perfectly from my lips.

Mr. Landry patted my shoulder. “Good.
That’s good. It’s out. Don’t you ever say those words again, to anyone.” He
paused, waiting for a response from me.

I nodded.

“All right. Ima tell you something,
something I’ve never had to say to anyone other than myself. There’s some
things that you do in life that ain’t nobody’s business but your own. There’s
some things that you gotta chuck into a deep hole inside you and bury for the
rest of forever. Those things, they go to the grave with you. That’s just what
we’re both gonna do with this.
Bury it,
Joe. You bury it and forget you
ever put it there.”

I looked down at my hands. “Sir,” I
said, my voice small, “I-I-I-I nuh-never…I-I duh-don’t know how to duh-duh-
deal
with it.”

Mr. Landry sighed and wrapped an arm
around my shoulder. “Well, how could you?” he asked. “The first time is always
the hardest, and Ima give it to you straight, cuz I don’t know no other way to
give it. This probably won’t be your
last
time, either. People like us,
we got obstacles in our lives that most other folks is blessed enough not to
have to deal with. We’re magnets for trouble. I’m an old man now, and I’ve made
a decision to stay outta other folks’ business, but there were days—more days
than I’d like to admit—when I’s feeling just the way you are now. Least you
ain’t all alone. You got me to share in the weight of the secrets you carry. I
was all alone, for a very long time.

“You, ah, you feel…bad about…it?” he
asked.

I thought about this question. After a
moment, I shook my head, but as if to contradict me, warm tears spilled down my
face. I swiped them away quickly, embarrassed.

Mr. Landry took my hand. “It’s the other
ones, ain’t it? The ones you couldn’t save?”

I nodded, saying the words in my head
that would take forever to get out of my mouth. At least Mr. Landry’s gift was
convenient.

I knew one of them…John, his name was
John. He was my friend. I got scared. When it all started to happen I…I froze
up. If I would have been quicker…I watched him die, sir. It happened right in
front of me.

Mr. Landry handed me a tissue, and I
wiped my eyes, but the tears were coming faster now, and they dripped from my
chin to land on my shirt.

He was my friend, and I could’ve saved
him. If I had been a little bit faster…if I hadn’t frozen—

“Bullshit,” Mr. Landry said.

I was so shocked by this response that I
spoke out loud. “Wuh-what?”

He let out a heavy breath. “That’s
bullshit, Joe. Don’t you go thinking about shoulda-coulda-wouldas. That shit
will drive you crazy. Trust me. Everything worked out just the way it was
‘posed to. Don’t go cursing the Fates, child. Who knows what would’ve happened
had you acted any sooner or any later? You may not be sitting here right now.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was right.
I knew that, but…

“Well, go on, then,” he said. “Get it
out. Cry the tears and speak the troubles, because after today, all of this
gets buried. You got me, soldier?”

Yes, sir.

And I did just that. I cried and cried
and told Mr. Landry everything, speaking in my head to make it easier on both
of us. He sat and listened to it all. I promised to bury it, and I would
certainly try. I had learned my lesson about not following Mr. Landry’s rules.
But when he left to go back to his apartment around midnight, I laid in my bed
and thought about all of it. All of
them.
The people I couldn’t save.
John most of all. Yes, John most of all.

Had I really done any good? I didn’t
know. Maybe I would
never
know. And if I had, it sure didn’t feel that
way.

When I was finally on the verge of
finding sleep, another disturbing thought occurred to me:
Had anyone seen
me?

And this thought, perhaps, was the worst
one of all.

I’ve told you before, I am no hero.