“Glad they’ve got the extra vest on now,” Hurst croaked, the impact of what we were seeing hitting him hard.
Men wearing dark clothing covered in white dust began coming out of the building, their arms moving as they gave each other directions with some sort of sign language.
“I doubt they’ll be able to hear for a while after that,” Sayla rasped. “Nemi hit the button on an air horn on Saturday right next to my ear, and it took two days for it to get back to normal.”
I knew they were trying to distract me in any way they could, but nothing could convince me to take my eyes off the scene in front of me.
And then one of them spoke into his radio, and the paramedics moved to park in front of the building. Watching it, the P.T.P.D. officers all put their heads in their hands, including one that I recognized well. Roque.
The paramedics jumped out and ran inside the building, and I watched numbly as a couple of them quickly came back out to move their stretchers inside.
“Glad they’ve got a wheelchair ramp into it,” Sayla mumbled. “What if they accidentally tripped the gurneys on their way down those steps.”
Her phone beeped, and she read out a message she’d just gotten. Heidi had left out of the back exit of the bank to close up the salon for us when it became clear Sayla and Jacinda weren’t leaving my side. Thank Christ.
“Heidi says she’s heard from Naomi, and she’s okay. She can also see a lot of the P.V.P.D. guys standing and looking around the place, and some of them are lying on the ground but still moving.”
“Can she tell them apart looking at the screen? Who’s down on the ground?” I asked frantically.
It felt like it took forever for her to reply to her sister’s message, but it was disappointing when Heidi’s reply came.
“No, it’s too smokey, and too many people are wearing the same colors of uniform, so she can’t tell them apart. She did say that the paramedics and fire department were beginning to put the injured ones on their gurneys now, though, so we might see them soon.”
“Is she sure they’re from Piersville Fire Department? I don’t see any firemen?” Nowhere in the vicinity did I see any of the fire department's vehicles or the men.
“There’s an access door at the back for them,” Hurst explained. “In the event of a fire, it’s a wider entrance allowing them better access and is right next to the water pumps.”
“Look, look,” Jacinda shouted, hitting us with her arms to get our attention. “They’re coming out.”
Putting his arm around my shoulders, Hurst said gently, “Just in case you don’t see him, honey, if he’s removed by one of the fire department, he’ll be taken out the back and put onto one of their vehicles. I just don’t want you to panic.”
It’s just as well that he explained that to me because a black van pulled in farther down the street—one that I knew belonged to the coroner.
All those months ago, when I’d received frantic calls and texts from other parents telling me that the school was locked down because there had been shots fired, I imagined the worst and broke down. School shootings happened, and they were traumatic for everyone involved, even the general public. Nothing should ever happen like that, but sadly it did.
This time, I’d witnessed what’d happened, and now I was trying to imagine the very best.
But looking at that van, having seen the flash inside the building followed by the smoke and then the shots being fired, seeing the way the paramedics were rushing their patients into their ambulances and how quickly they were speeding away…
I lost hope.
I’d finally found happiness with someone who loved my son as much as he deserved to be loved. We had something we’d never had before and that Alex hadn’t had since he’d lost his wife. And Dave was part of that something, too.
Like thinking about him summoned him, Dave walked out of the building, coughing and covered in the white dust that’d been all over the first men out of it.
My phone began ringing and vibrating in my pocket, the song allocated to one of the only people who could break through how numb I felt right now.
Sweet Child O’ Mine—it was my baby.
Hitting answer, I put the phone to my ear but never got the chance to even say ‘hi.’
“Mom,” he whimpered, and I felt the tears I’d been holding back break free. “Something’s—” he choked on a sob, “—happened at the police station.”
“I know, baby. I’m here now waiting for them to bring Alex out, but I’m looking straight at Dave. He looks fine but dusty.”
“Where’s Alex?” he cried. “Where is he?”
I had to remember the poor kid was at a crucial stage of his life—going from a kid to a young adult. He might look older, but his emotions and mind would take time to catch up. He also hadn’t seen what I had, so I needed to be careful how I explained it.