Harry Truman High School - 10:46 AM

     Benton lunged forward, but had only made it a few steps when he felt Mark's hand on his arm.  "Where do you think you're going?"  He lowered his voice so that only Benton could hear it.  "Would you walk away from your patients, Peter?"

     "But, Carter..."

     "Carter made his decision.  He's going to help those kids in there.  What good will it do if, when they do make it out here, there's no one to help them?"  Mark sighed, glancing at the building for a heartbeat, then fixed Peter with his thoughtful gaze.  "Don't make what he's doing in there be in vain, Peter."

     Benton dropped his head and drew a deep, ragged breath, then looked back up at Mark.  "You're right," he answered quietly, shaking his head at what he had been just about to do.  "No, of course you're right.  We've got patients to take care of."

     "Then let's get to it."



     Carter looked around the office quickly.  He'd made his decision; he was going to get those kids out of that building.  He knew that he wasn't in the best of shape himself, but he could wait.  He just needed to find something to bandage his arm with so he wouldn't lose much more blood, and then he could go.

     He rummaged through the cabinets and shelves quickly, finding nothing that could be used as a bandage.  His frantic but thorough search of Gary Evans' desk resulted in the same thing.  His eyes darted around the room; he didn't have much time.  They seemed to have a pattern of sorts worked out now, for patrolling the floors, and judging by the time it had taken them to come back to the first floor the last time, he only had a few minutes to get out of the office and across the hall.

     His eyes fell on the dusty American flag that hung on a crooked wooden flagpole in the corner, and he walked to it quickly.  He lifted the corner of it from the floor and smacked as much dust out of it as he could.  It wasn't the best of bandages, but for the moment it would have to do.  He'd have to stop by the nurse's office at some point, to find some Ace bandages or something.

     'Gramps'd kill me if he saw me do this,' he thought, shaking his head slightly.  He found a small rip in the edging, placed his hands on either side of it, and pulled.

     A few seconds later, he was looking down at a strip of the American flag he held between his fingers.  It was mostly white, with a few inches of red.  'I should have taken a red strip instead,' he thought.  "No one could see the blood."  He jumped again at the sound of his voice, and willed his heart to slow down.

     He wrapped the impromptu bandage around his arm and used his teeth to tie it off.  He moved his arm around a few times, flexing his fingers, to make certain that he hadn't tied it too tightly.  'Good mobility, sensation's intact.'

     "Hang on, kids," he whispered, walking to the door.  "I'm coming."

     He unlocked the door quickly and pulled it open, checking up and down the hallway thoroughly to make certain that it was empty.  Once he was satisfied that it was, he ran across the hall as fast as he could, grabbing the handle of the first door he came to and pulling it open.

     One of the girls screamed when she saw the door open, and Carter put his fingers to his lips quickly as the door closed behind him.  He scanned the room, and found that he had been right about the lack of teacher in that room.

     "Where's your teacher?" he asked the kids who were huddled in the corner between the back wall and the one with the door in it.

     "She never came in," one boy's quivering voice answered.  "We were waiting for her when we heard...when they started..."

     "Shhh, shhh," John comforted him, stepping forward, away from the door.  "My name's John," he said to them, "and I'm here to help you."

     "Help us how?" one girl demanded, her eyes swollen and red from tears.  "Are you going to make us bullet proof?"

     "No," he answered, looking from student to student, memorizing their faces, mentally keeping count of how many there were.  "I'm going to get you out of here."

     "How?" another boy asked.  "He said they know where everyone is.  If we try to leave, they'll shoot us!"

     "Not if they don't know you're leaving.  And if we get out of here in the next few seconds, they won't."  He finished his count and looked briefly at their faces, seeing again the blind trust and willingness to believe him.  "You're all going to be just fine.  Now, everybody get up and come over here to me."  They did as they were told, no one making a sound.  "Good.  That's good.  Now, look at the person next to you.  You remember who that is, and you keep them beside you.  You stay in a group as you run.  No matter what you hear, you stay together."

     Carter took a few steps back to toward the door, leaning back slightly to look out the window, and then opened it, checking up and down the hallway again.  It was still empty.  He motioned again for them to follow him.  "As soon as you get outside, you throw your hands up in the air and run.  Run as fast as you can.  Run to the fire trucks, and get behind them.  And stay together.  You've got to stay together.  Come on."

     He led them out into the eerily silent hallway.  The crying had stopped, leaving behind a lingering echo that was louder than a scream.  They made their way quickly to the large glass opening that enclosed the stairs and the doors to the parking lot.  He could see the emergency personnel set up out there, just as they were in the front.  Then, just as the group made their way into the stairwell, Carter heard the faint sounds of footsteps on the stairs above them.

     "Go!"  he whispered, waving his arm toward the back door quickly.  "Go!  Run!  Run as fast as you can!  Go!"

     They ran, and in seconds were outside.  He watched them go, his ears straining to hear the footsteps coming down the stairs, and saw the students throw their arms above their heads and run, as a group, toward the waiting fire trucks.

     "What the hell?!" Carter heard someone on the stairs shout, and glanced up.

     They were right above him.

     They had their backs to him, looking out the window on the second floor landing.  "Damn it!  Some of them got out!"

     Carter turned to run, his feet slipping on the tile floor and almost tripping him.  He pressed his fingers against the floor and pushed himself forward, fighting to regain his balance as he ran.  He'd only gotten 18 kids out so far.  He couldn't let them see him yet.

     He ran back toward the counselor's office, hearing the gunmen's footsteps rapidly descending the stairs behind him.  He pulled the door open as quickly as he could, and grabbed the frame, ignoring the glass, pulling it shut behind him and locking it as he heard them enter the hallway.  Again, he dived behind the toppled table, pushing himself back against the wall and holding his breath as one of the boys stuck his head in through the shattered glass.

     "Damn!" the boy muttered.  "They're out of here too!"

     'Go away go away go away go away,' Carter begged silently, fighting as hard as he could against the pounding of his heart and the breath that was begging to be released.

     The boy pulled his head back out of the room, and called to the other two.  "Hey, you guys, the geeks in the counselor's office bolted too.  Broke the window and made a run for it."

     "You sure?" came a reply from further up the hallway.

     "Yeah.  It's empty."

     The boy at the door moved away, and Carter heard his footsteps echoing as he joined his companions.

     Carter released his breath in a gasp and leaned his head against the wall, panting.  'Too close,' he thought.  'That was too damn close.'  His left hand started throbbing and he glanced down at it, surprised to find it covered in blood.  Then he realized that he must have sliced it open in his haste to close and lock the door behind him.

     He crawled back to the flag again, and ripped another strip from it, wrapping it around the palm of his hand and tying it off on the back.  'Going to have to be more careful.'

     "Some of your friends decided that they didn't want to stick around!!"

     The sound of the voice was so close that Carter thought the boy was talking directly to him.  He jumped in shock and turned around.  The same boy who had yelled out the warning earlier was standing in front of the office door, with his back to it.  Carter held his breath again and crawled, slowly and silently, back behind the table.

     "We told you not to piss us off, but they just did!  I guess you don't believe us!"

     Carter risked a glance around the table, and saw the boy nod his head at someone he couldn't see.  He heard the sound of glass breaking, and then screaming.  He closed his eyes, only to snap them open again when he heard the gun fire.  He jumped up to run, but forced himself to fall to the ground again as the renewed cries of agony assaulted his ears.

     "We think you might believe us now!!"

     Carter's breath stuck in his throat, fighting with his sobs to be heard.  He'd gotten 18 kids out of this building.  And because he did, one more had been shot.  He bit his lip to keep his grief from finding a voice, and let the tears slide down his face.  How could he have been so stupid?  Why hadn't he waited?

     The next sound that reached his ears was one of laughter, and he lifted his head from the floor.  The boy standing in front of his door, the one who had spoken, the one who had given the order for another child to be shot, was laughing.  It was the most evil, inhuman sound that John Carter had ever heard.

     He glared at the boy's back as he walked away from the door.  He had been ready to climb out the window himself, and to leave the rescue to the people who were trained to do it.  He had been convinced that it had been his actions that had resulted in another child being harmed.  As the sound of the boy's laughter filled his heart with hatred, he knew for a fact that if he did climb out that window, no one else would be leaving this building alive.

     Steeling his heart against the despair that had filled it only seconds before, he stood and walked to the door, pressing his back up against the wall to watch the boys lower their weapons and move on toward the stairs at the far end of the hallway.  They were still staying together, all three moving up and down to each floor, rather than splitting up and covering all three at the same time.  It was a juvenile and illogical thing to do, but none of them realized it.  Carter knew how to take advantage of it.

     John Carter opened the office door and stepped out, keeping himself concealed in the recessed area in front of it, until he saw them disappear into the stairwell again.  He vowed that he would have the first floor emptied before they came back down again.

     With one more quick glance up and down the hallway, Carter pushed himself out of the doorway, and moved down to the next room.