Frantically, I descended the bleachers, wound my way around bystanders, and tried to move toward the burning prisoners. I was unarmed, though, and even if I managed to make it out onto the football field, I still had no idea what could possibly be done to put out the flames. I just knew I had to do something.
As I rushed toward the sideline, the man in the black parka was still struggling with the guard. The guard was now swinging him around by the sleeve, trying to bring him down. But now the man gave a fierce, desperate tug away from the guard, and his parka's sleeve ripped off, leaving a trail of stuffing. Freed from the ranger's grasp, he sprinted toward the burning prisoners. Like everyone else, he was wearing a surgical mask, and it was impossible to tell who he was.
Gunshots rang out. With this, more shrieks arose from the crowd. The rangers guarding the bleachers were firing onto the field.
But the man continued on as bullets tore up clods of earth at his feet, none quite hitting him. He ran straight toward the burning prisoners, all of whom had now collapsed and were rolling in the snow, screaming in agony.
The man drew a handgun from within his parka.
As he sprinted past the burning prisoners, he fired four shots, each one directly into the head of a prisoner. Four of the five burning figures slumped into the snow, motionless except for the flames that went on consuming their now lifeless bodies.
Amid this confusion, the crowd began to disperse wildly from the bleachers. More gunshots from the guards rang out.
Chaos erupted around me. I saw the man race beyond the prisoners, but, then, I lost sight of him in the frantic crowd. My only thought now was to use this confusion to somehow free my parents from the locker room. I had no doubt that their turn on the football field was coming soon. I ran through the crowd, madly. Another volley of gunshots rang out. More people poured from the bleachers. I tried to make my way through the fleeing droves, but the crowd was too thick. I stumbled, and fell. I got back on my feet, but immediately I was pushed backward. Everyone was racing toward the exit while I was trying to move in almost exactly the opposite direction.
By the time I finally neared the locker rooms, much of the crowd had dispersed. I raced under the length of the awning, and just as I reached the end of the corridor, I saw the man in the black parka once again.
He was rushing down the hillside toward the chain link fence. He pushed back the loose section, and slid through. A moment later, he disappeared down the hillside.
As I slowed myself to a halt at the dumpster, desperately trying to come up with a way to open the locker room door, I saw, to my total confusion, that it was already wide open.
Someone had shot through the lock. It lay in pieces scattered on the ground.
Not a single prisoner remained in the locker room. They'd all been freed. Every single one of them, including Ed and my parents, must have already escaped into the crowd.
I hurried back to the football field. The last of the crowd was streaming through the exit. I tried to catch my breath.
Four lifeless bodies lay burning in the snow.
But the fifth prisoner still writhed in charred agony, not quite dead, panting out his last smoky breaths through the flames. I realized, only now, that it was Jason.
Whoever it was who'd just compassionately killed the other four prisoners had deliberately left Jason to suffer.
I thought about the figure in the black parka, sprinting through the snow with a gun. I thought about the destroyed lock, and the man slipping away through the secret hole in the fence. Then I remembered the figure I'd seen early that morning, also in a black parka, unburying people trapped beneath the earth.
In my gut it was hard to believe that it could have been anyone other than Ian.
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DEAD IN BED continues with Part 9: Twisted...