Chapter 0.6

9-8-13, 3:07 P.M.

Jeremy returned from one of his latest rounds to find that some terrorists had attempted to storm the gym in his absence. Thankfully, the teachers had successfully repelled the invasion, and there was a fresh pile of bodies to add to the increasingly awful stench of decay that permeated the air of the school. He himself hadn’t run into anyone, and was beginning to suspect they were avoiding him due to how insanely lucky he had been at killing them.

The special shotgun he had picked up two days ago was left untouched, as Jeremy was suffering from a horrible case of “Too-Good-To-Use Syndrome” and wanted to save it for something special. He had instead found another M16, and used that. He had also considered dropping the pistol and revolver, but Mr. Reichgott informed him that those were a Glock 19 and a Colt Python .357 respectively, and Jeremy nodded out of semi-interest as he decided to keep them – he never knew when he might be forced to rely on them.

The Radio Club had been hard at work deciphering the latest transmissions, but they were having a hard time piecing together the meanings – sensing an opportunity to be useful, a decent portion of the students and even the teachers joined in, chiming in with their ideas. Jeremy had even contributed, making sure to steal a walkie-talkie off the next one he killed.  This helped immensely, as now they no longer had to tap into the frequency every time they wished to listen in – they could just wait for the walkie-talkie to do its work.

“Christ, now I know what it’s like to be you,” the leader said to Jeremy as the rest of the Radio Club lounged around, taking a break due to radio silence.

Jeremy snorted with amusement. “Yeah? Grab a rifle, see if you still feel that way.”

Considering this, the radio club president remained silent. Feeling awkward, Jeremy looked at him after a moment of silence. “I mean… sorry, but…” Jeremy started to apologize, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

“Don’t. I know what you mean.”

The radio crackled to life, and the two immediately rushed over to hear it, the rest of the radio club listening in as well. One of them held up his phone to record the message, and Jeremy briefly wondered if he kept that app open constantly now. A string of garbled words issued from the mouthpiece of the walkie-talkie, and all were silent until the transmission finished.

“Got that?” the president asked, and the guy with the recording phone nodded. “Alright, play it back. Anyone catch anything?” the president asked some of the Foreign Language club, who had stationed themselves nearby.

“I think the number ‘nine’ was repeated twice, then a ‘three’,” one pointed out, and a debate immediately started.

Sighing, the radio club turned back to Jeremy. “We’ll have this one figured out in just a sec,” she asserted, dismissing him.

Jeremy politely nodded, and made his way back over to Sam and Jackie, who were discussing Sam’s current Nintendo DS game. Jeremy immediately joined in, always glad of a reprieve from being serious.

9-8-13, 9:09 P.M.

It wasn’t until after dinner that the radio club leader sought Jeremy out, and he reluctantly got up and followed her over to her group’s area. Once again, he was presented with a translated note – this time, however, it was free of corrections.

“Sorry about the handwriting,” a guy apologized, and Jeremy dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

“Nah, it’s cool, I can read this.” He began reading the note, frown growing as he read farther and farther. “’Helicopter scheduled to arrive at 9 P.M. on 9/9/13, we are pulling out to the roof at 8, repeat, we are pulling out to the roof at 8.’ They’re just leaving?” he asked the radio club, who gave a collective shrug.

“I guess they didn’t want to call this a complete failure,” the president mused.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because losing a decent portion of your group to a 17-year-old can still be counted as a ‘success’…” He thought about this new information. A grin slowly grew on his face as an idea occurred to him.

“…Alright, what’s with the face?” The radio club leader asked, slightly alarmed.

“Well, think about it. Every single remaining terrorist is going to be in one place, at one time. Even the ones guarding the borders,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Which means…?” the president asked.

Jeremy sighed, aggravated that they weren’t getting it but jubilant at the conclusion he had just drawn.

“We can escape.”

A few hours later, rumor had spread like wildfire that escape was possible, and Jeremy did all he could to prevent students and teachers alike from speaking loud enough that outsiders could hear them. Still, the atmosphere of the gym was that of subdued, hushed excitement – they were finally going to leave this hellhole. Jeremy, meanwhile, was working out a plan of his own: As soon as the terrorists learned of the escape attempt, they would probably attempt to delay the helicopter leaving so they could start picking off students and accomplish something. But, they couldn’t do that if they couldn’t get off the roof…

With this aim in mind, he approached Jackie.

“You heard?” he inquired in a whisper, and Jackie nodded.

“So damn close, I can’t even wait,” she pronounced in an equally quiet tone.

“Okay. I need you to do me a favor,” Jeremy asked, and Sam put away his DS to listen.

Jeremy took a seat on the mat. “What I need you to do is, right around 8 P.M., follow me up to the rooftop staircase.” Jackie cocked an eyebrow.

“…And then what?” she asked.

“Lock me out,” Jeremy answered, grinning. Jackie looked at him as though he were crazy, which he probably was to some extent.

“Are you – are you sure? They’re all gonna be up there, you know,” she pointed out.

Jeremy shrugged. “Can’t be that many left, right? Besides, even if I die, they’re locked out – that way, they can’t shoot anyone trying to escape.” Jackie clearly saw the logic in this, but she was inclined to argue – Sam stopped her.

“Let it go, girl,” he told her quietly. “It’s the best strategy we’re gonna get.”

Jackie sighed, then slumped her shoulders. “I just… don’t you dare die up there, okay?” she pleaded with Jeremy, who gave a cocky grin.

“Die? Me? Nah. I’m gonna get up, and I’m gonna kick some ass,” he replied, and Jackie laughed. With that, they prepared for bed.

9-9-13, 2:00 P.M.

When next Jeremy walked into the gym, tensions were running high. The prospect of escape, combined with the thrill of having survived an entire week had taken its toll on the collective emotional psyche of the students and teachers, and everyone was circled up in hushed whispers. Jeremy grabbed a lunch that had been saved for him, and didn’t even bother to take off his suit as he sat down by Jackie and Sam, who wrinkled their noses at the offensive stench of dried blood that permeated every square inch of the fabric.

“Hey, no fresh blood. Nobody come by?” Sam asked, and Jeremy shook his head.

“I think they’re trying to hold out until their helicopter arrives,” he answered. Jackie, meanwhile, had grabbed her sniper rifle, and was checking and rechecking it to make sure everything was in working order.

“Say, you going to use the God-Killer Shotgun for this one?” Sam asked.

Jeremy smirked. “Might as well, ain’t got nothin’ better to do with it.”

Sam chuckled, going back to his game and barely flinching as one of his friends stroked the inside of his sweater – Jeremy had long ago learned not to question such things. And besides, the sweater in question was extremely fluffy to the touch.

9-9-13, 6:42 P.M.

Jeremy had been making the rounds around the school, even though he knew that there would be no one there – he was mainly putting on a show for the cameras, including wearing an increasingly ‘confused’ expression each time he surveyed the area and found no one. Having just finished such a round, he knocked on the gym door once and they let him in. Once he had removed his suit, he approached his old P.E. teacher cautiously. He looked at Jeremy in surprise, as they hadn’t spoken to each other in quite a while, never having had a reason.

“Okay, what I’m about to ask, I want you to take with the utmost confidentiality, alright?” Jeremy asked. His P.E. teacher slowly nodded. “What do I do… to prepare for a really big fight? Is there anything helpful I can do beforehand?” he continued.

His teacher thought for a moment. “Stretch,” he decided. “Stretch in as many different positions as you can – no telling which way you’ll need to bend.” Jeremy nodded, and went to do just that.

To his surprise, Jackie joined him without saying anything – perhaps because she, too, understood what he was trying to do. Fitness classes were sporadic at best, as with the other classes – while teachers would give lessons if the kids approached them, most kids just wanted extra time off to socialize. For a solid half hour, they warmed up, until Jeremy’s calves were burning and he felt more limber than ever before.

At the end, he busied himself getting ready for the ultimate fight of his life. Jeremy slipped on his suit, noting how comfortable he had become in it – he felt almost as though it were his new uniform, save for the bloodstains and bullet holes. He tried once more to grab both his M16 and SPAS-12, but as to be expected, they were too heavy for him to carry both effectively. Finally, Jackie came over and showed him a configuration of the bandoliers he was wearing that allowed him to support the weight of both – it was still heavy, yeah, but now possible for him to carry two guns at once. Just to be sure, he also put the Colt Python and the Glock 19 in two pockets near his waist, loaded and ready to go just in case something happened. By the time he was ready, he felt as though he were wearing a suit of iron instead of Kevlar, but he was about as fully prepared as he could get.

9-9-13, 8:07 P.M.

“Oh shit, man, you sure this’ll work?” Jackie whispered as they crept up to the rooftop entrance. The guard was on the other side of the door, and was looking away from them – now was the perfect chance.

“Yeah, we should be good. You got the key?” Jeremy asked. Jackie held up the small brass key that would lock the rooftop door. Jeremy nodded. “Good. Let’s do it.”

Jackie put a hand on his shoulder, and Jeremy sensed her misgivings as he turned to her. “Jeremy, you don’t have to do this. We can just let them go, and they’ll probably never harm us again.”

Jeremy gazed up at the ceiling for a while, as though hoping to find a suitable answer there. Finding none, he sighed. “And read in the news a week later about them torturing some other children, who weren’t so lucky? No, Jackie, I have to do this. I have to.”

They peeked out the window to find what looked to be thirty terrorists, milling around. Part of Jeremy was surprised there were so many, and another part was surprised there were so few. The main portion of his brain, however, was just worried at the thought of taking on so many at once – if they decided to dogpile him, he’d be a goner. Jackie, meanwhile, was looking at his shotgun.

“At least set that thing to auto if you’re going to be doing this,” she hissed in his ear.

Jeremy looked at her confusedly, and she pointed out the small switch above the trigger, flipping it upward into what Jeremy assumed was the “automatic” position. “Now you won’t have to reload each time,” she informed him, and Jeremy smiled gratefully.

“Good to know,” he whispered back.

Jackie positioned herself to the right of the door while Jeremy approached from the left, and walked right up to it and opened it. For a moment, all was silent as the terrorists stared, caught off guard by his unexpected entrance.

“Gentlemen?” he remarked, sounding significantly less French than he had hoped – but not before he caught a snicker from behind him, followed quickly by the sound of the door locking. Jeremy grinned – if nothing else, at least his last joke had been appreciated. He brought up his shotgun, and began blasting away.

The next few minutes were utter pandemonium – terrorists were running all over the roof, trying to escape him and his shotgun while also trying to shoot him. Jeremy, for his part, mostly stayed in the open, not wanting to get cornered and strangled or something as he shot at every terrorist in sight. One even jumped off, with the intent of crashing through a window to escape below, however, the black-clad operative missed the windowsill and simply fell off the building, screaming for just a second or two before going silent once more. Meanwhile, Jeremy was taking on six or seven at once, barely feeling as the bullets penetrated the pads on his arms and legs, and ignoring the sledgehammer blows to his chest – he’d made sure to inject himself with a full shot of morphine before the fight started, and was now just about immune to pain.

“DIE, MOTHERFUCKERS! DIE DIE DIE!!” he howled, blasting more of them apart before hurriedly reloading – seeing their opportunity, the remaining forces surged forward.

Jeremy ran backward, feet slipping momentarily as he traversed the edge of the roof – he could barely see, it was so dark out. Finally, he had enough shotgun shells, and blew the oncoming hostiles apart with two double-barrel blasts.

Finally, all was silent. Jeremy looked around, hardly daring to believe that he had won, and made to get up. Roughly, he was pushed back down, and he hesitantly turned around to just barely make out a dark form behind him. A gun barrel pushed up against his temple, and he looked into the eyes of his killer.

“You die now,” the man simply said, and Jeremy swallowed nervously.

“Can’t we, ah, talk about this?” he stammered, terrified.

The man pushed a button on his walkie-talkie, and was about to respond, but a fraction of a second later his head burst into red mist, his body slumping to the floor. Jeremy looked around, bewildered. Who had saved him? Then he heard the sound of the door to the rooftops locking again, and smiled.

There was no one else on the rooftop – so why had the man used his walkie-talkie? Jeremy wondered, looking around. He heard a soft step behind him, and whipped around only to find Jackie, hair blowing in the nighttime breeze.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Jeremy furiously whispered.

Jackie rolled her eyes, though Jeremy could tell she was scared. “Saving your ass, dipshit! The chopper’s going to be here in a few minutes, and it’s loaded with guns – we gotta get off the roof!”

Jeremy, not wanting to face a hunter-chopper with just an M16 and a SPAS-12, hesitantly nodded. “But if I don’t take care of the chopper, who will?” he asked as they fairly flew down the stairs, Jackie leading him somewhere.

“The military. They’re finally doing their job, they got a rocket launcher for it – also, they apparently activated some missiles just north of here the second they saw you. Something about hacking into the U.S. defense system? Guy wasn't exactly specific over the phone... Anyway, point is, the military counterhacked them and shut the missiles off – we’re safe.”

Jeremy looked at her wondrously. “You mean… it’s over?” he asked, voice small.

Jackie gave him a tired smile. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re finally done.”

The chopper went down without too much fuss – while Jeremy didn’t like the U.S. military’s negotiating tactics, he had to admire their weaponry. With that accomplished, and once they had sweeped the area to determine no terrorists were left alive, the military released the kids and teachers to their waiting families, who swept them up and drove them home. Jeremy waited at the border for his own family, hoping for a miracle, but a female police member approached him after just a few minutes.

“They’re not here… I’m so, so sorry,” she admitted, and Jeremy looked down at the ground. It was true, then. His parents were dead.

“I… I need to be alone,” he whispered, and stumbled away from the whooping crowds, away from the military, away from his friends and their families and their happy ending.

A few sharply-dressed men came to visit him after a few moments. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we need to talk," one said, adjusting his tie. Jeremy dully stared at him, not really processing the words. What did it matter? What did anything matter?

They went over to an unused classroom, where the group of people spent some time closing the doors and locking the windows. This would have made Jeremy worried under ordinary circumstances, but he no longer cared. So what if they were going to arrest him for killing the military? His parents were dead. As far as Jeremy was concerned, his life was effectively over. He was about to make some quip about getting it over with, when he noticed a familiar face at the window. Sam was looking in, seemingly concerned. It occurred to Jeremy that even if he didn't care about his life anymore, others would. He had friends... and to be honest, he needed them right now.

The group of businessmen finally motioned him over to a makeshift conference table.

"We're aware that you may have seen some... questionable decisions by the military squad dispatched into the school," one began nervously. "We're here to offer you a deal. In exchange for you not informing the public about what happened, we'll allow you a request of your own. Anything you want, if we can get it."

Jeremy glared at them suspiciously. What game were they playing? He knew that the military had done some unconscionable things that probably shouldn't be publicly spread, but why would they try to bargain with him? They could just silence him by force, or something. In fact, Jeremy realized with a sinking feeling, that was probably exactly what they were going to do. They'd wait until he thought he was safe, and drag him off somewhere to never be seen again until he swore he'd keep the secret. How to prevent this? Jeremy thought. Finally, something occurred to him. It was by no means foolproof, but it would do in a pinch.

"I get to keep the guns," he replied, and they looked taken aback.

"Why?" one asked, and Jeremy simply glared at him until the man started shifting nervously.

"I keep the guns, and I don't get a medical checkup after this. I'm fine," he asserted.

They looked at each other, then nodded. "That sounds... reasonable. We'll fill out the necessary paperwork for the firearms," one finally answered. Jeremy thrust his hand forward, practically daring the man to shake it. He was not going to be backstabbed by the military a second time. He'd make sure of that much.

It took about half an hour, but he'd finally loaded all the guns he wanted to keep into his car. He'd only taken one of each - the M16 assault rifle, the modified Franchi SPAS-12, the revolver, and the Glock 19 - but he stocked up on ammunition as well, taking as much as he felt like from the massive stockpiles that remained in the school. One of the businessmen watched him do it, quietly standing off in the background.

9-9-13, 9:07 P.M.

Jeremy got in his black, clunky car and headed home from his school. It had been an insanely long week, and he was glad it was all over…

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