Fatal Attractions

Chapter Ten: Turned Tables

Bryce was squatting next to Sam's body. He hadn't wanted to kill Sam. They were both in ROTC together, and he was one of the few students Bryce could tolerate, but the moment Sam decided to play hero was the moment Bryce needed him to die.

Sam was weak. Once the gun was in his hand, leveled against Bryce's forehead, he couldn't find the strength to pull the trigger. The gun quaked. It was one thing to shoot at bottles with air-soft rifles, but this was a real gun, about to take a real life. Sam couldn't do it. With the nozzle pressed into his skin, Bryce had laughed. In a rolling motion, he pulled Sam down and traded spots with him. Smashing his fist against Sam's hand, Bryce forced the gun loose. He took it from the floor, sighing at relief to have its power returned to him.

Sam looked into the shooter's eyes, pleading. Bryce ignored his pleas. His former feelings towards his classmates did not matter anymore. All that mattered was getting revenge and taking Juliet. He would take Juliet, too, if he had too. At the moment, I didn't seem like she was in the right mindset to come willingly, but he knew her mind would change.

"Please," Sam begged.

A bullet tore his brain into dumpling sized chunks.

The smallest bit of remorse swept over Bryce. So far, most of the students he killed weren't his true targets. Originally, he had only wanted to kill the students who had done him wrong.

Sam had done nothing to him. Then a terrible thought washed over Bryce. Doing nothing, he thought, might be the problem. Doing nothing -when it came to bullying- was just as bad as doing something. He rolled off of Sam's limp body, blood-soaked tank clinging to his abdomen. Bryce looked straight into the rolled-back eyes of Sam Earno and the tiny bit of guilt he had shriveled. He ripped the list. Everyone, except for Juliet, was his target. Overall though, he wanted Chase Lipton to die. Nothing would stop him from taking his life.

He was not worried about time. Waylord High School was small and hidden. If the police were coming, they were twenty minutes away. When they came, it would be easy to avoid getting arrested, or gunned down, for at least ten more minutes. Only 7 minutes had passed since his arrival. He had twenty-three more minutes to finish the job. Many had died already. He picked up his gun and left the classroom, counting his bullets confidently. His plan had frayed at the seams. A tiny tug could send it unraveling. There could be no more mistakes.

Meanwhile, Juliet tore down the hallway with Chase behind her, guiding her forward with his hand pressed against her back. Sprinkles of terrified students followed her, trying to find a safe place to hide. They pounded on classroom doors, begging to be let in. Juliet thought that was a waste of time. Classrooms weren't safe. Bryce had proved he could easily break into them. They were nothing but a jail cell. Chase suddenly detoured, turning into the unlocked teachers' lounge.

"It's a shortcut," he insisted, pushing her inside.

There was a group of students stashed in the lounge, armed with forks and pencils. Anything they could find. If the situation wasn't dire, Juliet would laugh. Their pencils could do nothing against the execrable bullet.

All those days of hiding from Deans and sneaking out of class had made Chase an expert on the school's interior. Chase ushered her through a door, and they entered another hall. At the end was a door leading out to the sports fields. That was their goal.

They dashed towards it. Juliet was not interested in hiding. Getting the hell out of the school was all she wanted. Gunshots suddenly boomed like thunder behind them. The gunshots confirmed what Juliet feared.

Bryce was still alive.