Here I am. Send me.--Chapter Seven

Evelyn and Officer John Toland are called to the worst situation imaginable.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As was his practice, John Toland had arrived early and allowed himself a few moments of quiet time before morning roll call. Afterwards, he checked out his gear for the day and placed each piece of equipment in its proper location within the car. He heard footfalls approaching the parked vehicle and looked up to see Evelyn approaching.

"Be still my beating heart!" Toland grabbed his chest in a mock heart attack.

Evelyn took a sip from her gas station coffee and delivered her straight line, "What?"

"You're early!" He had played this running joke with his young co-responder every morning since she had been late once during her first week.

"It's eight o'clock, I'm on time."

"Which, on Evelyn time, is fifteen minutes early."

"Hardy har har. Do you have a patrol route planned?"

He looked up from the rear of the vehicle where he was stowing the gear. "They didn't mention anything at roll call. Have you got something in mind?"

"Yeah. I'd like to take another look at Josey's neighborhood ."

He lapsed into a Humphrey Bogart impression, "Okay, the prowl car is all loaded up. I'll get on the blower to the clubhouse and then it'll be duck soup, and you shrinks can check on things while the dame's in the hoosegow."

"Can't you just talk like a pirate, like a normal weirdo?"

"Listen, Beautiful. I just calls 'em as I sees 'em."

"Beautiful? I could report you to HR if you weren't simply stating a fact." She tossed her hair with a flourish.

Toland got to business, "Are you doing a wellness check?"

"No, we did that yesterday. It didn't go well."

"We? Who went with you?"

"The program has a chaplain now. He tagged along."

"A chaplain? I'm glad. That's a good addition to your crew."

"Yeah, he's all right. Could be worse."

"How so?"

"He seems pretty grounded--not a Bible thumper type."

"There are worse things than the Bible. Lots worse."

"I suppose. But hardcore church people can be single-minded to the point of losing focus on the big picture."

"From the Christian perspective, they're focused on the biggest picture."

"I know that you and your family are religious but, you have to admit, when you're doing your job, you have to sideline the theological stuff sometimes."

"Never."

"Seriously?"

"God is in every part of my life. Every decision I make is based on His will."

"Even when someone is shooting at you?"

"Especially when someone is shooting at me."

"I just want to drive around the neighborhood and check out the environment."

As a lifelong Christian, Toland knew when someone was changing the topic away from religion. He also knew to plant the seeds and let God be in charge of its growth. "No problem. What are we looking for in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know. Probably nothing. There's just something about the dynamic in the family that's bothering me."

"You could say that about most families."

"Humor me."

He turned the key in the ignition, and they made their way back to the same neighborhood with the rows of small homes. "It's this next one on the right."

"I remember. Are we stopping?"

"No." No reason to throw gas on that fire."

As they passed, Toland could see that Rachel Marshall was on her hands and knees working the weeds out of the planting beds along the front of the house.

"It'll take a lot more than that to make this place presentable." Evelyn said.

Toland glanced over. "If you want an expert opinion on how to maintain a house, ask someone who lives in an apartment."

In the yard, Rachel raised herself to one knee and glared at the passing police vehicle.

Toland's eyes were surveying out in front of the car. "Where to next?"

"Let's just go around the neighborhood and see what we see."

"Take what you just looked at and multiply it by a hundred."

It was an older subdivision, and the small homes were shaded by large old trees. With the shallow soil over rock, a heavy wind could blow any of the trees over. It was an insurance underwriter's nightmare.

The radio came to life. "All units. All units. 10-83 at Calvary Christian Academy. Code 2."

10-83 meant 'shots fired'.

Toland looked to Evelyn, "That's maybe a mile from here. Are you good to answer?"

Evelyn nodded.

"Code 2, Roger. 3397 Bravo Foxtrot in route."

The radio answered, "The principal of the school is in front of the building outside the main entrance. Coordinate with her."

It took two quick right turns to get out of the subdivision, and they pulled up in front of the school two minutes later. One patrol vehicle had arrived ahead of them. It had its flashing lights on but no siren. They spotted an older woman on the sidewalk. The incessant blaring of an alarm was sounding from the school building.

Toland pulled to a stop. "Wait here."

Again, Evelyn only nodded.

Toland jumped out. strode to the rear of the vehicle and opened the liftgate door. After donning his flak jacket, he unzipped a rectangular canvas bag and removed an assault rifle with a scope.

He walked over to the principal. "I'm John Toland with Metro PD."

She was focusing on her phone and didn't introduce herself. After a few seconds, she looked up at him, "The kids are all locked down but we have two children that we don't know where they are."

He nodded. "Okay. Any idea how many shooters there are?"

"It seems to be just one, but things are very confusing."

"Do your people know where the shooter is?"

She typed something into her phone and waited for an answer, "My teacher thinks that they're upstairs."

That was all the information he had time to get. Two more cars had pulled up, and he now had enough officers to send in the first team. Looking around, he saw no one who outranked him, which left things up to him. He trotted to the front door of the school while getting strapped into the rifle sling. An elderly gentleman stood with his back pressed against the school wall next to the large, windowed entrance.

Toland looked back toward the other waiting officers and yelled, "Give me three! Let's get three!"

He hadn't noticed the principal following him until she spoke. "If you go down to the end of this corridor, there's a large open area called Old Hickory Hall. That's where the stairs are to the second floor. My people say they've heard gunshots up there." The woman was remarkably calm.

He nodded and reiterated to the approaching officers. "Let's go! I need three."

He heard a male voice right behind him, "One more!"

The principal was holding something up to him, a key. He took it from her as someone tapped his shoulder. "We've got three and ready."

He had some trouble getting the key into the lock. Maybe his hands were shaking. Maybe he was just clumsy.

The same voice from behind him, "Rifle first. Let's go." Toland had the rifle.

The officer behind him held the door open as he led the way with his rifle aimed forward.

"Metro Police!" He called out into the empty hallway.

There was a closed door on the right. The other two officers, whom he recognized as Gibson and Reynolds, flanked the door. Toland held back, switching his gaze between the door and the hallway ahead of them. Gibson called out, "Open door. On me. On me."

The door opened ahead of him, and he entered; Reynolds followed with Gibson staying in the hallway. Toland called out again, "Metro Police!"

The two of them spread out into the classroom and worked their way through the small desks toward a small door in the back. Reynolds opened the door and looked in. "Bathroom. Bathroom. Small bathroom. Clear."

Toland called out loud enough for Gibson to hear from the hallway. "All clear. Next. Let's go!" They ran as they left the room.

They continued running to the next room. Gibson got there first. "Door. Door. With me. With me."

Reynolds chimed in. "Hold the door."

Gibson opened the door, and the classroom was identical to the first one. Toland and Reynolds make their way to the closed door in the back and Toland took position covering the door. "Open it. I got it. I got it."

Reynolds opened the door, and again no one was there. "Clear. Let's go."

They kept running back into the hallway and followed Gibson down to a junction of two hallways with a counter in the middle. He led down the hallway to the right, where there were book cubbies lining the left wall. Gibson approached a double door.

Toland pointed at the door on the left. "Take this. Take this."

Gibson tried the door. "No, that's locked."

Toland pointed at the other door. "Take this! Door! Take this door. Take it."

Gibson turned the knob and the door swung open. It was an empty office with a desk and two chairs. Toland took three steps inside. "Clear."

Toland now took lead and they ran down to Old Hickory Hall.

BANG!

The gunshot came from upstairs.

Toland felt his heartrate quicken within his chest. "Shots fired. Shots fired! Move!"

They passed the open hall and turned down a short hallway that led to a sign reading 'Stairs'.

Reynold's voice yelled back behind them to another group of cops. "It's upstairs. It sounds like it's upstairs."

Gibson opened the door to the stairs, and they found that an officer had gotten there ahead of them and was on the landing with her pistol pointed up the stairwell. She called out, "Go stairs! Go stairs! Go!"

They ran up, following their training and not taking the steps two at a time. At the top, Gibson opened the door, and Toland and Reynolds stepped through--each facing a different direction. It was another hallway. More gunshots erupted from ahead. Toland didn't think. He was repetitively trained for this moment specifically to make decision-making efficient. He followed his training and ran toward the shots. Gibson and Reynolds followed right behind. They met seven other police officers who were converging on the sound of the shots. Toland recognizes about half of them. There would be time for a reunion later.

He passed a large cross on the wall. A lifetime of a different type of training kicked in and he issued a silent prayer for protection for the children under this roof.

They passed another officer who was wearing his ballcap backwards and making hand gestures to move ahead. Toland came to the end of the corridor and saw that it emptied into another large open area with a railing around a hole that looked down to the floor below. To his right was a huge window-wall that stretched up twenty feet to the high ceiling. Sunlight was streaming through, and he could see tree canopies just outside. On another day, it would be beautiful.

But right now, there was a man with an assault rifle standing under it.

The shooter screamed, "Where's Leyla! Just tell me where she is, and I'll go away."

The crazed man seemed to notice the police officers for the first time and fired three wild shots in their direction. Toland, along with four other officers, returned fire. The shooter went down.

Everything froze as two officers ran to the shooter. One moved the weapon away, and the other knelt next to the perpetrator. "All clear!"

Toland let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. He pressed the call button on his radio to call in an ambulance request. He was about to speak when something punched him in the back of the neck. Why would someone do that? That's not funny.

Then something hit him in the knees. No, that wasn't it. He had fallen to his knees. They had hit the floor. Why did he fall? Then he was falling forward.

People were yelling around him. "Second shooter! Second shooter!" He was trying to process what that meant. Then he heard gunfire all around him. He was suddenly cold. When had it gotten so cold? And his stomach...he felt nauseous. Just as he was starting to feel pain, everything stopped.