I
stopped typing momentarily. There was a
soft rustle outside the door of my private room in the attic of the
Hidden beneath the blanket was a small Beretta, fully loaded. I grabbed it and quietly cocked the chamber. I knelt down behind my desk and took aim at the wooden door.
The problem with old buildings is that often things don’t work very well. This was the case here, as the wooden door had absolutely no latch, so locking was impossible. Slowly the door crept open and my heart rate accelerated.
I adjusted my position as sweat started to drip down my brow. It wasn’t that it was hot in the room – I just didn’t want to have to kill another person again.
The door sprung open, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Just the old tabby cat that had made its home in the library and would occasionally wander into my private quarters. I pet my friend, and gave him some of the food I had rationed away. He began to purr softly.
I smiled, unloaded my gun, and stuck it back under the blanket on the arm chair where it belonged. I reloaded the typewriter with a new sheet of paper and returned to sitting in the torn chair to continue telling my story.
Now where was I? Ah yes – Dr. Dixon had stormed into Sean and Robert’s dorm room brandishing a handgun. He was pointing it directly at my chest.
Most people at one point or another have held a gun of some kind: a real one, a BB one, or even a little toy one, so the sight of a gun should be something familiar. But for some reason, as I stared into the barrel of a Glock, it was as if I was seeing something totally new.
The next moment often keeps me up at night, wondering if things could have been different. I was stunned – my friends were not. What would have happened if the opposite had occurred?
I saw the bullet spin out of the chamber and make its way to my chest, and I moved to get out of the way, but I couldn’t. But Sean could.
Sean shoved me out of the way and I tumbled onto Robert’s bed. The bullet whizzed harmlessly by, leaving a hole in the wall of the dorm room. Smoke emanated from the mark.
The
fury of Dr. Dixon was almost tangible.
His eyes spit fire and brimstone, and his frown turned into a scowl of
disgust.
The bullet punched through Sean’s chest. In the movies and stuff, they always show the guy flying backwards, arms flailing and screams coming from his mouth. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Imagine taking a gun and shooting a heavy punching bag, and you’ve got an idea of what happens. As the bullet hit Sean, he moved a little bit, and then fell as though he were a puppet and his strings had been cut.
Immediately
Eric’s Tae-Kwon-Do instincts kicked in and he fired his foot nearly as fast as
the bullet had flown. Immediately the
gun flew out of
Clutching
his wrist,
It dawned on me that no one had spoken during the entire ordeal. We all looked at each other, too shocked to speak and at a complete loss for words.
Robert bent down and checked Sean’s pulse. He stood up and sadly shook his head. Tears gathered in all of our eyes as we realized that Sean had died.
Over the next few hours, paramedics arrived, as did the police, but for some reason, it seemed as if Dr. Dixon had gotten to them first. We told them exactly what happened, but it seemed as if they completely ignored us. They handled the gun without gloves, and I’m pretty sure they just threw it in the trash can on their way out. Dr. Dixon was certainly going to get away with murder.
The funeral was several days later. There was quite a turnout, even though it was a few days after most people were scheduled to go home. Sean was loved by many, and so many came to show their love one more time for their departed friend.
Unfortunately, Dr. Dixon was there. He pulled me aside during the funeral to speak to me.
“Mr. Stark, it is unfortunate what happened. Be advised though – you and your friends are way over your heads. You don’t know what you’ve gotten into. What you have uncovered is bigger than Sean, is bigger than you, is bigger than your friends, and is bigger than this school. I advice you to drop this…drop everything. No longer speak of Sean, no longer speak of Michael Franks, and no longer speak of anything relating to this. If you do…I’ll be watching, Mr. Stark. Sean was only a warning. I will not hesitate to…warn…you again, or take further action against you and your friends.”
I stared at Dr. Dixon as a passionate hatred rose up. Lightning exploded out of my eyes. “A warning?! A warning?!?! That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? You just killed my best friend!”
Dr. Dixon just smiled, and showed me the inside of his jacket. Sitting in an inner pocket was a gun. “I have the police, the government…everybody. You can’t win, Mr. Stark. Just forget about it. You’ve lost.”
I turned around and saw two fellow students I hadn’t met before staring at me. One had long hair tied in a ponytail and one had short, cropped blonde hair. “How did you know Sean?” asked the long-haired one.
“We…we
were best friends.” I looked and saw
The long-haired one took my hand first. “Andrew Hauch. I’m a psychology major.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Andrew.”
“And my name is Logan Harper,” said the short-haired one. “I’m majoring in Construction Science. It’s nice to meet you, Danny. Andrew and I are rooming together, and we both knew Sean from freshmen orientation. Man, I really liked that guy…”
And things went on from there. Logan, Andrew and I became friends, and all decided to room together with Eric over the next few years. Robert and Jennifer got married that summer, and lived together in an apartment right next to mine. True to our word, we never spoke of Sean or the huge conspiracy that had nearly ended all of our lives. And true to his word, Dr. Dixon was nearly everywhere we went. Our fury for what he had done never died.
Life went on, I suppose.
I’d love to say that that was the end of it. I’d love to say that when 2006 rolled around, I graduated along with my friends, and we all lived fruitful lives and would occasionally reminisce about the days of the past, where Sean was with us, or just joke around.
But I’m a curious person. Too curious, I suppose.
On
That
same night, I went to my bottom drawer and pulled out a few notebooks and
computer printouts. With
I had never been more wrong in my life.