Harry Truman High School (outside) - 11:39 AM Peter and Mark stood alone in the middle of the street, watching the school buses that had been loaded with the minor injuries leave the scene, each heading for one of the three hospitals in the area. The expressions on their faces were indescribable. Both seemed to be in shock. They had performed their duties with precision, each seeming to run on automatic pilot, assessing the injuries and deciding which bus the injured person should be placed on. Neither could remember either face or name of even one of the people they had seen in the past 10 minutes. Only one face, only one name, dominated the minds of both men. Mark turned slowly, and walked to Benton's side. "That wasn't so bad," he commented, his voice hollow and empty. Peter didn't answer. He simply stood there, running his left hand up and down the fingers of his right repeatedly. He hadn't moved, and was now staring at an empty street. His mind was reeling from a torrent of emotions and unanswered questions that tumbled and collided within him. He felt numb, disconnected. It was something he had never felt before and normally he would have hated it, but at that moment he wasn't even aware of it. "We need to get back to the trucks, Peter," Mark said. Again Benton did not answer, but instead switched hands and began rubbing his left hand with his right. "Peter." Mark reached out and placed his hand gently on the surgeon's arm. "Peter, come on. We need to get back." Benton allowed Mark to lead him back to the safety of the fire trucks, and found his gaze drifting back to the window of the guidance counselor's office. Mark watched him, followed his eyes, and sighed. "It looks like we're going to have a few minutes of quiet, Peter. Why don't you go across the street there and get some coffee?" The surgeon shook his head slowly, forcing himself to look away from the building and back at Mark. "No. No, I'm fine. I just...I think I should stay here." "You okay?" Benton thought about that question before he answered it. Physically he was fine, although very tired. Truthfully, he was near exhaustion. He was on the end of a 12 hour shift as it was, and the added strain of the situation had drained him much more than a normal day would have. Mentally he was in much the same state, which he was sure was adding to the physical drain he felt. So how was he emotionally? Truth be told, he was an emotional wreck. He was feeling every emotion that he had ever experienced, and some he was only just discovering. Helpless, angry, scared, horrified, overwhelmed, restless, worried, impatient, uncertain, apprehensive, and a whole list that he didn't even have words to describe. Most of all, he felt totally and completely terrified. That was something that he, Peter Benton, had never in his entire life felt. He knew for a fact that Carter had been injured, if not killed. They had no way of knowing what had happened after the third floor had been evacuated. They had heard the long burst of shots that the teacher had told them had been aimed at Carter, and they had heard the five deliberate shots fired after that. No one else had come out of the building with any information for them, and no one had seen or heard anything from Carter since then. How was he? He was falling apart. "I'm fine," he answered. Mark smiled a knowing smile at the surgeon. "You've picked up a line or two from Carter, haven't you?" Benton sighed, only mildly surprised that Mark had picked up on the lie. "I just wish...I don't know, Mark. I need to know how he is. I need to know he's all right. I don't know how much more of this I can take." Mark looked at him in understanding. "I know, Peter. I feel the same way." Benton looked away from the window, purposely averting his gaze but finding nothing of interest to look at. "Trust him, Peter." "I do trust him," Benton answered, turning his eyes back to meet Mark's. "It's those kids I don't trust." Harry Truman High School (inside) - 11:47 AM Carter pulled his knees up under him once more, raising himself just high enough to see through the bottom of the window in the library door. The back door that he had hoped for was there, tucked back in a small corridor right off the hallway at the top of the main stairs. A small storage closet to the right of the library door provided him with somewhere to hide, should any of the boys start to walk in his direction, and he had opened the door just far enough that he could duck inside quickly if it became necessary. From his sanctuary, Carter had been watching the scene in the library for the past five minutes. He had been correct in his concern about the number of casualties in the room. He did not have an unobstructed view of the entire length of the room, but the sight that he did have was more than enough. He couldn't imagine how those children in that room were managing to function in there. He was a trauma doctor; he had dedicated his life to helping those who came in to the emergency room, most of them bleeding, vomiting, or worse. What he saw in that room turned his stomach. He could see ten severely injured students on the floor. He was too far away to tell for certain if any of them were dead, but he was certain that at least some of them were. Some of the other students had taken up protective positions around the fallen. Carter was moved to see how much they all seemed to care for each other, and wondered if they had all known each other before this morning, or if they had never even spoken to each other. He was inclined to believe that it was probably the latter, but at this moment it didn't seem to matter to any of them. Whether they had known each other for years or only minutes, they were all in the same situation. It was definitely an eye-opening experience, at the very least. He glanced up quickly when he sensed a movement in the room, and saw the three boys heading right toward him. He ducked into the storage closet quickly, closing the door just as he heard the leader's voice echoing through the hall. "I mean it! If even one of you moves before we get back, you're all dead! There are 157 people in this room right now! There had better be 157 people in this room when we get back!" Carter jumped when he heard the gun going off. The sound cut through the flimsy wooden door like it wasn't even there, and he covered his ears with his hands, pushing himself into a far corner of the tiny room. It did no good; the gunshots and the screams that followed them still assaulted his hearing. He had to force himself to stay hidden; he wanted so badly to get in that room and make certain that no one else had been injured. "That's just to make sure you're paying attention!" he heard the boy yell again, followed by his inhuman laughter. Carter stayed where he was until he heard the sounds of three sets of footsteps walking away. "Donnie, you take upstairs. Search every room, every closet, every locker. Joe, you take the first floor. I'll take the basement. We find that stupid son of a bitch, and we kill him." John cringed, knowing just how close they had come to doing that already. The voice continued on, lecturing the other two, fading away as they moved down the main hallway toward the stairs. Carter crawled back to the door and opened it, risking a glance out. The three were nowhere to be seen, and he could hear the distant echo of their feet on the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he lunged out of the closet and into the library in one movement. The students nearest the back door started to scream when they saw him, and he waved his arms at them. "Quiet!" he ordered. "Do you want them to come back?" The screams ceased, and Carter walked slowly toward the middle of the room. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help. My name's John." He looked around at the floor, and felt his stomach lurch into his throat. The ten casualties that he had seen from the door had been nothing compared to what he found in the middle and front of the room. With nothing more than a cursory glance around, he had already counted another 20 or so lying on the floor, and those who were able to sit up were too numerous to count. "We don't have much time," he announced to them, keeping his voice low but still loud enough to be heard by the entire room. "They'll be back in just a few minutes. We've got to get as many of you as possible out of here before they come back. Now, those who have been injured, raise your hand if you can walk." A few hands went up, but not as many as he had been hoping. "If you can walk if someone helps you," he continued hopefully, relieved to see several more. "All right. That's good. Now, if you're not hurt, how many of you think you can carry someone else?" A group of large boys toward the front of the room, most likely football players from the looks of them, all raised their hands without hesitation. "All right. All right, very good. Now, here's how we're going to do this..." "What about the people who can't walk and can't be carried?" a boy's voice interrupted him. Carter turned toward the voice, shocked and surprised to see the young man kneeling beside a girl who appeared to have been shot in the side, and was obviously very pregnant. He drew in a deep breath, knowing that what he was about to say would not be well-received, but also knowing that it was the only way the rest would survive. "They'll have to stay here," he answered, immediately throwing his hands up to quiet the protests. "I'm staying with them," he continued. "I'm a doctor, and I can take care of them until the paramedics get here to take them to the hospital. Believe me, kids, this is almost over now. As soon as you're all out of here, the police will go ahead and come in." "I'm not leaving," the boy beside the pregnant girl said, ignoring her weak grasp on his arm and her feeble attempts at protest. Carter walked toward him quickly, trying to calculate in his mind how much time he'd already spent. These kids should be on their way out by now. "Son, listen to me....what's your name?" "Daniel. Daniel Thaden." "Daniel, I know that you're worried about her. But she'll be fine. I'll be right here until the paramedics..." "Dr. John, sir, this is my girlfriend. The baby is my son. I can't leave them in here without me." Carter immediately understood the boy's determination to stay. He knew it would take something more powerful than just his word that this was about to end to pry him from the girl's side. It would take something...something important. A task! A special job that only Daniel could do. And he knew just the thing. "Daniel, listen to me. I need you to go outside...no, listen. I've got friends out there, two of them, both of them doctors. I need you to take a message to them for me. It's very important that they get this message. It has to get to them quickly, and it has to be exactly what I say. Can you do that?" "I don't want to leave!" "Daniel, if they're going to come in here to help her, to help all of them, they need to know exactly what to bring. You have got to tell them what to bring. Please?" Daniel took a few seconds to think, his eyes darting back and forth between his injured girlfriend and the doctor who seemed to so desperately need his help. "All right," he whispered. "What do you want me to tell them?" "Good man, Daniel. I knew you were the right man for the job." Carter turned around quickly, motioning for everyone who was able to get to their feet. "Everyone, move to the back door. If the person beside you needs your help to get out of here, or needs your help to get down the stairs, then you help them. You boys," he said quickly, gesturing at the football players. "Come over here." The boys did as they were told, following Carter around the room as he pointed out to them the students who were too injured to leave on their own but not too badly hurt to be carried. He helped each of them to lift their burdens as well as he could, his limp becoming more pronounced with each step he took. In a matter of moments, the group was assembled at the double doors that led out into the small hallway, and Carter gave them their final instructions. "When I say to go, you go as quickly as you can. Go directly to the stairs and down. Move just as fast as you possibly can, but stay together. If you're not helping someone or carrying someone, throw your hands in the air just as soon as you're out the door. Get to the fire trucks, and get behind them. The police will know what to do with the injured once you get them behind the trucks. But you've got to get there quickly. Those three could be headed back this way by now." "Dr. John?" Daniel asked, and Carter turned toward him. "Daniel?" "They said they were going to go find someone and kill him," Daniel whispered, uncertain how many of the others had heard the three talking. "Who are they looking for?" Carter didn't answer at first, but looked back to the group of students at the door. "Go, kids. Get out of here, and hurry." They started moving out, the football players with the seriously injured going first, followed by the minor injuries that needed help, and then the unaided and uninjured. "Keep going. Do not stop, no matter what you hear. If you hear one of them yelling at you to stop, you run faster. Go." As the last as of the group started through the doors, Carter turned back to Daniel quickly. "You need to find Dr. Benton and Dr. Green. Dr. Benton is black, and Dr. Green is balding. You should be able to find them with no problem. If you don't see them right away, ask someone. You need to find them and tell them that Carter says for them to bring 30 intubation kits, and as many units of blood as they can find. Tell them that they're going to need every ambulance and every medevac chopper in the city." Carter paused, wondering if he should send a personal message out too, and decided on a brief one. "And tell them that I'm all right. That's what you need to tell them, Daniel. Can you do that?" Daniel nodded his head, feeling in his heart that the doctors would have known that they needed those things anyway. "You didn't answer me, Dr. John. Who are they looking for?" Carter sighed, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "They're looking for me, Daniel. Those boys are looking for me. That's why I need you to hurry." The boy looked shocked at first, but recovered quickly. "I'll tell them, Dr. John," he said, jogging to the door. "Take care of her for me. Please." And then he was gone. Carter watched him leave, the door closing slowly behind him, and let out the breath that he had been holding. He was almost done. He had succeeded in getting the last of the evacuable kids out of the building. Now all he had to do was to keep the ones that had been left behind alive long enough for the police to storm the building and end this. His leg was throbbing badly, and he lowered his eyes to look at it. The bleeding had slowed considerably, although it hadn't yet stopped completely. As the last of his adrenaline started to fade, he felt all of his injuries much more acutely. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, the room now quiet enough for him to hear the moans and soft sobbing from those he had been forced to keep there. "It's all right, kids," he whispered, opening his eyes and turning around slowly. "I'm still here. I'm not going to leave you. It's all going to be over very soon. You're going to be all right." John pressed his hand against his thigh again, limping slowly away from the door and back toward the fallen, ready to begin his count of the living and the dead.