The Six: Complete Series (16 page)

There were still five hands up in the air. The kids wiggled their fingers like they were caught in a wind tunnel. He felt sick as he stood there with thirty pairs of eyes all judging him. The color had drained from his face, he could feel a cold sickly feeling coat his skin. Days of barely eating and overexerting himself had come back to haunt him. Dennis grabbed the side of Christopher's desk to remain standing upright.

"Are you okay?" Christopher asked.

Dennis nodded as he squeezed the side of the desk. He couldn't pass out. It wasn't an option. Eduardo's finger itched on the trigger. No, he needed to stay awake and finish what he'd come here to do. It was the only way back to Charlie.

"Yes?" he said as he called on the little boy that sat quietly in the front row.

“I want to be a baseball player when I grow up,” he said with absolute confidence.

Dennis felt his heart rattle against his chest as it squeezed the last bits of power it had left. He struggled to smile at the kid who had nothing but dreams and a toothy grin. “I bet you will. You on a team?”

The kid nodded. “I play first base like you!”

Dennis felt his knee start to buckle.
Get it together
, he hissed to himself,
or he’ll kill you before you hit the ground.

“You sure I can’t get you a chair or something?”

“I’m fine,” Dennis said. “I’m just tired.”

The bowl cut boy walked up to the front of the room with something behind his back. “Here,” he said as he held his hand outstretched. It was a water bottle filled to the brim and a mini Twix bar that had seen better days. “My mom makes me drink water when I don’t feel good.”

“Thank you,” Dennis said. His hand shook as he took a long swig from the bottle.

It didn’t help. His body couldn’t handle the adrenaline any longer.

Christopher still sat by his desk and smiled at his cooperative class. Through the blur, Dennis waved the teacher towards him. If he got him away from the kids, then the job would be done and they wouldn’t have to see a thing.

“Um, Mr. Kimball, do you think I could talk to you in the hallway?”

Eduardo grabbed his arm. “No hallways.”

“Why not?” he said back.

“Not the order. Do it in here.”

Christopher had already jumped off his desk and walked towards the pair.

In the room. It had to be done in the classroom. There was no more discussion and no more debate.

“What’s up?” Christopher asked as he met them near the classroom door.

“Can we, um, go over here? There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Dennis pointed towards the front corner of the room. There was no chance of shrapnel or collateral damage. It filled all their criteria.

“Do you need to go? I understand if you’re not feeling well.”

Dennis tried to protest but Christopher wasn’t listening.

“If you’re leaving, do you mind doing one thing?”

“I’m not—” Dennis said but Christopher was already walking away. He bent over his bright green messenger bag and pulled out a brown baggy.

“Christopher—” Dennis began to say. His hand was on the butt of the gun. It was warm to the touch. It would be less than a second to get it out and shot.

“Really quick, I’m sorry that I’m being so rude, but do you mind doing one thing?” Christopher held up a small stack of cards. It didn’t take long for him to realize they were the limited edition trading cards they made when he hit his 84th home run. They only printed a few hundred and no one bought them. No one bought them but goddamn Christopher Kimball.

“Do you want me to—”

He held up a Sharpie. “Would you?”

Don’t sign his goddamn trading cards. Just shoot him, Dennis. Do it.

He grabbed the Sharpie and stood there with his hand hovering over glossy trading cards bearing a rough facsimile of the man he used to be.

Christopher stood there and apologized. “Sorry, this is so rude of me, but I just couldn’t let you go without at least asking.”

He held the marker in his hand and stared at his twenty-one year old self. It was the face of a young man whose only worry was where the next ball landed.

Dennis hovered over the cards, motionless.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” Christopher said.

“No,” he said, “that’s not it.”

Eduardo’s aftershave enveloped over him like a suffocating cloud. He didn’t have much left in him.

Christopher went to hand him another cup of water when Dennis grabbed the man’s wrist and gripped it tight. The mug of water slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. Ceramic shards exploded in every direction and water pooled at his feet.

What began as a confused smirk quickly turned to terror as Christopher realized this wasn’t a joke and Dennis wasn’t letting go.

“Don’t say anything,” Dennis said under his breath.

Christopher tried to pull his arm away but the grip was too strong. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Dennis pulled him in close. “Just stay quiet and they’ll be safe.”

“Let me go.”

“Shut up,” Dennis hissed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the kids peek at the commotion in the front of the room. They wriggled in their seats trying to figure out what was happening.

“Please,” said Christopher, “just go, okay?”

Dennis shook his head. With his free hand, he felt around in his pocket and grabbed the gun. It rattled in his fingers as he slid it across his body so the kids wouldn’t see what he was doing.

Christopher caught a glimpse of the gun and his eyes grew wide. “Dennis, don’t. Why are you—”

Dennis twisted the teacher’s arm so quick and so hard he felt the bone break under the skin. The man fell to the ground and screamed in pain. Now it was just a matter of pulling the trigger. He wasn’t fighting back. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

The kids seemed glued to their seats.

“Stop!” screamed the little girl with the braids. There were frightened tears welling up in her eyes.

They were a captive audience. Those kids would see everything.

Christopher lay on the floor with his arm cradled against his chest. Every time he tried to get up, the pain and fear brought him back down.

Dennis pulled the gun out from against his side and pointed it straight at the man’s head. The barrel shook from side to side as he struggled to keep it level. The seconds stretched like hours as the kids screamed all around him. Eduardo stood in his peripheral, just watching and waiting. Christopher wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t even trying. On the floor, on his knees, he was defenseless. His useless arm lay by his side with his free hand covering his face.

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis said.

He moved the gun so it would hit Christopher in the chest. It wouldn’t be as graphic for the kids, he felt. As he moved the barrel down, he felt something push against his side. A tiny little body used all its force to move him.

The gun moved from side to side and his careful aim was gone. He had to take a shot. If he lost control, he might never get another chance.

“Niko! Sit down!” Christopher screamed.

“No!” the boy shouted back.

Dennis kicked out his foot to get the kid away but the boy’s hands were wrapped around his belt loops and forced Dennis off-balance.

Just shoot. All he had to do was imagine it was another criminal that needed to be taken down. Defend yourself first, they always said.

Even as he was shifted back and forth, Dennis was able to get a lock on Christopher enough to hit his torso. The blood loss alone would be enough. In desperation, he took a sloppy shot. The recoil surprised him. In his weakened state, the kickback knocked him to the ground.

The gunshot rang throughout the room. The children screamed and Christopher fell to the ground immediately. The boy still clung to his shirt as his teacher clutched his chest.

“Kid, stop!” Dennis shouted. He desperately didn’t want to hurt any of the kids. The prayers that the boy would just sit down like he was told went unanswered as Dennis’ foot slipped out from under him as he tried to get up.

“Eduardo, help!” Dennis screamed, but Eduardo just stood there and watched with bemused detachment.

The kid forced him down to his knees and the gun slipped from his fingers. It sat between him and Christopher for a second before they both lunged for it. The boy jumped on top of Dennis’ back and pulled at the neck of his shirt. With one hand he went for the gun and the other he swatted away the kid like a fly.

“Get off!” he screamed as he contorted and groped for the gun.

He got two fingers on the barrel as Christopher got a better grip and clutched it close to his chest. “Niko, off!” Christopher ordered. Dennis felt the weight fall off his back and the patter of small footsteps fade behind him.

Dennis scooted back from the teacher who had the gun firmly in his hand. His head pounded and he could hardly move, much less fight back. All he could do was plead his case and pray this worked out.

He put up both hands in surrender. “Please, don’t.”

Christopher didn’t have the gun aimed and wasn’t holding it right even if he planned on shooting. “I’m not going to—” he said. The teacher placed the gun on the floor next to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis said. “They have my son...”

The muffled cries and tears of the children amplified as Christopher grabbed the edge of the table and hoisted himself back up. The gun sat under his shoe, pinned down to the floor like a paper in a windstorm.

Dennis didn't have the strength to go for the gun. It just sat there, unattended as the teacher stood up with his arm dangling by his side. He shook, still in shock, even as he was bleeding heavily. He knew that a man in shock was liable to do anything. That anything also included standing still as the criminal took advantage of him. If Christopher didn’t pass out soon, at the very least Dennis could get him to hand the gun over.

"I'm sorry. They told me—" Dennis said as he ran down his emotional well. Instead of screaming and ranting, the teacher stood there with a smile on his face. Dennis didn’t know what to do.

"It's okay," Christopher said. "I don't know why you're doing this, but it's okay. But I can't let you go, you know? I mean... the kids and everything." His words drifted off as his eyes slowly shut. He slapped at the desk where his bag sat a few feet away. Even as he tried to grab his bag, Christopher continued to mumble about protocol and administrators under his breath. When he couldn’t reach it right away, he stood there, white as a sheet. "I can't find my phone. I can't find it..."

"Do you want me to get it for you?" Dennis said.

Christopher looked all around the room at the kids who still hadn't moved from their desks. Not one of them said a word as their teacher went to them for reassurance. "Um, yeah okay. It's in my pocket... I mean the back pocket. There are some papers and um, it's in there, I think." Every word trembled as he rubbed his temple to keep awake. The gun was still trapped under his foot as he pivoted towards the desk.

Dennis got up slowly, with his hands in the air, just in case the man snapped. "Okay, I'm going to get it. Nothing's going to happen."

Christopher nodded and quietly watched as Dennis moved behind him and went to the messenger bag sitting on the desk. His desk was covered in photos. There was a picture of an older woman and a young girl with Christopher, all in front of a cafe. They looked so happy in their floppy hats and lattes. Next to that picture was Christopher holding a little baby in his arms with his head nestled on top of its tiny head. Dennis picked it up and examined it.

"Who is this?" he asked, spinning the photo around.

Christopher grabbed the side of the table. His face had turned a sallow pale as he squinted to keep focus. "My girl. My daughter," he said.

"You have a daughter?" Dennis muttered.

Christopher nodded. "She's five... five months old. Katie. That's her name. Katie. Little Katie..." His eyes began to flutter shut and he started to fall forward. The blood on his shirt had grown from a small dot to half of his button-down. The drops fell to the floor and splattered on the linoleum. He caught himself before he slumped over the desk.

"She's beautiful," Dennis said. "Very beautiful."

Christopher smiled. "I wanted to talk to her again... you find it?" He gestured towards the bag.

He wanted to talk to his daughter. “Shit,” Dennis mumbled as he actually started to look for the phone. No ambulance, no cops, there would just be an infant on the other line. There it was, his phone, sitting right on his desk, just feet away. Dennis grabbed it and handed it right to Christopher’s hand.

“Thank you,” the teacher said with a smile.

Dennis stood by and just watched. He could have gone for the gun. He could have finished the job and just left, but he couldn’t stop watching.

With his one good hand, Christopher opened the phone and dialed. There were tears in his eyes as the phone rang.

Eduardo still hadn’t moved from his spot against the door. As Dennis looked over, all he saw was the man’s hand still in his pocket, presumably still hovering over the button that would end it all. Dennis still hadn’t failed. There was still time to finish this.

Christopher stood over a small puddle of blood that had pooled around his shoes. He held the phone to his ear with his entire palm. “Hello?” he said.

The room was silent as he spoke with clipped syllables.

Dennis waited for the tears and the sweet nothings to his daughter. Instead, Christopher looked up to see where his captor was and walked to where the kids sat. The gun scraped across the floor as he moved. When he got a safe distance away, Christopher spoke softly into the phone. “Yes, there’s a man here with a gun. Please, hurry!”

He’d called the cops.

Shit.

He’d been so stupid.

Dennis sprang from behind the desk and ran towards Christopher who had surrounded himself with his students. He gripped the back of one of the kid’s chairs and was barely standing. “He’s going to shoot the kids!” he said into the phone.

Dennis put out his hand to calm the students but it didn’t do anything to stop their crying. “I’m not. Christopher please...” he said.