The Sacrifice (58 page)

Tao saw the shooter's attention directed away from Janie and toward the storage closet. He knew the wounded man was inside the little room. The young man reached for the doorknob. Tao quickly came into the hallway as Frank opened the door.

When he opened the door, Frank saw Scott with a pair of scissors in his hand. A look of shock and surprise streaked across the young man's face. He realized what Scott was attempting to do.

“No!” Frank screamed and raised the gun toward Scott.

The clock read
:09.

Tao dove in between Scott and the open door as Frank pulled the trigger. The bullet meant for Scott pierced Tao's chest. Scott recoiled from the deafening sound of the gun at such close range. He looked at his hand. It was still holding the scissors. He squeezed the scissors and cut the wire. The last number on the clock face was
:02
. It went dark.

Frank swore at Scott. Their eyes met and rage boiled out of the young man with a level of hate that Scott had never seen in another human face. Frank fumbled in his pocket for another shell.

“I'll kill you and blow up that bomb myself!”

Tao rolled onto his side so that he faced the young man. Blood was already beginning to soak the top of his chest. He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a picture of a smiling student with dark hair and eyes. The upper half of the photograph was already red with the janitor's blood. He held the picture out toward Frank, then slowly brought his hands together in the universal sign of prayer. The picture dropped from his fingers to the floor.

Frank took a step forward and looked down. It was his eleventh-grade photograph. Shaking his head to clear it from Tao's gesture and the image of his own smiling face, he chambered the shell that would drill a hole through Scott's heart. He could directly wire the bomb and bypass the clock.

At that moment, the front door of the school opened, and the deputy sheriff assigned to the campus came into the hallway. He had finished patrolling the parking lot and wanted a cup of coffee. He saw Kay's body on the floor and Frank, rifle in hand, standing over Tao. He pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip.

“Drop that gun!” he commanded.

Frank turned and fired. The bullet shattered the glass front of the trophy case. The officer fired back. The bullet hit Frank in his chest. The young man dropped the rifle, staggered backward, and reached one hand up to the place where the bullet had entered his body. His hand came away covered with blood. Puzzled, he looked at his hand and then collapsed on the floor.

His gun still drawn, the deputy ran down the hallway. He reached the doorway to the storage closet and saw Scott sitting on the floor. He pointed the gun at him.

Scott weakly held up his hands.

“I'm Scott Ellis, a lawyer. There was a bomb in here, but it's disabled. Check the janitor.”

The security officer examined Frank first. The young man was dead.

Tao was on his side. The deputy rolled him over onto his back. He was still alive. Barely. The officer held Tao up in his arms. The Hmong man opened his eyes, but he didn't see a Blanchard County sheriff 's deputy.

He saw the angels.

Standing soberly, shoulder to shoulder, they nearly filled the empty hallway. He recognized some of the heavenly beings from the time around the table in the cafeteria. However, his ability to distinguish their individual characteristics was now heightened 1,000 percent. They weren't uniform in appearance. Like people, each one was unique. Each one beautifully, fearfully different. And in an instant, he knew things about them and the duties they had performed at the command of the Lord they served. Today, their attention was focused on him.

The one to the left of the deputy had been with Tao his entire life. He'd been the guardian whose gentle nudge kept Tao from stepping on a deadly snake when he was a little boy walking down a jungle path. He served as Tao's unseen comrade in arms who warned him not to take a trail that would have led him into a Vietcong ambush. He became the barricade between Tao and the beckoning waters of death in the refugee camp. And during the great journey of spiritual discovery to Bangkok, the heavenly watchman kept sleepless vigil over Tao, whispering the words of heaven into the pilgrim's newborn spirit. Tao saw more examples of the merciful, sovereign hand of God than could be chronicled in a dozen lifetimes.

The other beings in the hall had their own stories to tell. Tao knew they were tales of great faith—adventures involving people of every color and language who loved Jesus and gave their lives for the sake of the Kingdom. The angels showed no emotion as they gazed at him, but there was a reality of love in their faces that filled him with something more life-giving than the blood flowing out of his body.

He was too weak to speak aloud, but internally he asked, “Why are you here?”

“Because you and others prayed.”

And Tao knew that prayers offered in faith are not in vain. Evil exists in the world, and bad things happen. But God has not left his people without the right to petition heaven. Faith still moves mountains.

“And to take you home.”

Tao was overwhelmed. The glorious messengers were a celestial honor guard sent to usher him into the presence of his King. He had followed his Savior in laying down his life as a sacrifice for others. Now, the time of never-ending rejoicing had come. It was time to go. His eyes fluttered shut, but he didn't see death. He entered directly into the life that never ends.

“He's gone,” the officer said.

46

Earth felt the wound.

P
ARADISE
L
OST

T
he deputy laid Tao on the floor and disappeared from Scott's view. The young lawyer couldn't stand up, so he pushed himself forward with his arms into the hallway. The bodies of Tao and Frank were partially blocking the door. He turned sideways so that he faced the entrance of the school.

And saw Kay.

The security officer was kneeling beside her with his hand on her neck.

“No!” Scott cried out. “Is she alive?”

“I don't know! I can't find a pulse!”

The sound of sirens filled the air. Scott forgot about his own injuries. He forgot about the bomb. He forgot about Frank. All he could think about was Kay. The police officers arrived first and secured the hallway. The EMTs followed. Dr. Lassiter and other staff members came out of the administrative offices. There were several students with superficial wounds caused by material knocked loose by one of the bullets. Only one student, a ninth-grade girl, was seriously injured. Frank's first shot had hit her in the right arm, shattering her elbow. A teacher had led her into a classroom. She was screaming with shock and pain.

Scott kept asking about Kay as police and medical personnel began flooding the hallway.

“Is she alive?”

Two men lifted Scott and put him on a gurney.

“The teacher who was shot,” Scott persisted. “Where is she?”

“Everyone who was hurt is going to the hospital,” one of the men answered.

In the emergency room, Scott was whisked into a cubicle where an IV was stuck in his arm, and he received a shot for pain. Within less than a minute, a doctor who looked younger than Scott came in to examine him.

“I'm Dr. McMillan,” he said.

“Do you know anything about the female teacher who was shot?” Scott asked anxiously. “What is her condition?”

The physician unwrapped the bandage the EMT had wrapped around Scott's leg.

“I don't know specifics. Dr. Paynter, the chief of surgery, is taking her to the OR.”

“So, she's alive?”

“Yes, but I don't know the extent of her wounds.”

Scott closed his eyes. “Thank God.”

“I know more about your wounds,” the doctor continued. “We need to take some x-rays. You have several pieces of metal and debris in your leg that don't belong there. We need to take them out.”

Scott woke up in the recovery room and groggily opened his eyes. He remembered what had happened and tried to fight his way to consciousness, but it was too soon. He lapsed back into an uneasy dream world for another twenty minutes. The second time he awoke, there was a nurse standing beside his bed.

“He's waking up,” she said to someone Scott couldn't see. Then she looked down at him. “We'll take you to a room in a few minutes.”

She was gone before Scott could ask a question about Kay. When she returned, Scott was more alert. She unlocked the wheels of the bed.

“What about the young teacher who was shot?” he asked.

“She's in surgery. That's all I know.”

Scott closed his eyes. Still alive.

When he was in his room, a new cadre of medical personnel attended him. He learned that the bullet hadn't done any permanent damage to his leg. His makeshift tourniquet had helped minimize the loss of blood. He would have a scar and the memory of what happened.

When there was finally a lull in the activity, there was a knock on the door. Scott turned his head. It was Leland Humphrey. The older lawyer came over to the bed and gently laid his hand on Scott's shoulder.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Hurting, but the doctor said I'll recover. I didn't think they were letting visitors in yet.”

Leland smiled. “I've never sued the hospital, and they appreciate it.”

“Do you know anything about Kay Laramie?”

Leland shook his head. “No. I arrived at the school after all the injured had been evacuated. I didn't know what had happened until I talked to a detective.”

“How many people died?”

“I've only heard about two. The Jesup boy and a school employee.”

“The janitor,” Scott said softly. “He saved my life.”

“From what I'm told, you're the hero.”

Scott shook his head. The image of Tao bleeding on the floor came back. The look on Frank's face returned. He closed his eyes.

“I'll leave you in a minute,” Mr. Humphrey said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Try to find out about Kay. Let me know as soon as possible.”

“I will. Anything else?”

Scott thought for a moment. “Yes, I have a close friend who will need help while I'm here.”

“Of course. Who is it?”

“His name is Nicky.”

After Mr. Humphrey left, two state law enforcement officers from Raleigh questioned Scott about what had happened in the hallway. They asked a lot of questions about Frank. The bomb had been removed and disassembled. Scott's guess about the dual power source and switch wire had been correct.

“Do you want to talk to the media?” the older of the two officers asked.

Scott closed his eyes. “Not now. Maybe later. Can you serve as spokesman for me?”

“Yes, we can include information from you in our official statement.”

“Okay. Make sure you credit the janitor.”

The officer checked his notepad. “Tao Pang.”

Scott repeated the name softly. “Yes, Tao Pang.”

Later that evening, Dr. McMillan came into the room.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Dopey from the pain medicine. Any word about Kay Laramie?”

“That's one reason I stopped by. The nurses said you have been asking about her all day. She's going to make it.”

Scott closed his eyes and exhaled. He opened his eyes and asked, “What happened to her?”

Dr. McMillan pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down.

“I've seen Dr. Paynter's chart. A bullet hit her in the left side of the face. It traveled along the side of her head until it lodged in her skull behind her left ear. Along the way, it did a lot of superficial damage, but the most serious problems involve the nerves that control her facial functions. Once nerves are severed they can't regenerate to a significant degree. Adjacent nerves can help take up the slack, but her damage was so extensive that it may not correct the problem.”