FIC: Decimation Day - Chapter 1
“Young lady, can you hear me? Are you okay?” a large police officer in a black uniform had grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake as he pulled her to safety. “Young lady!? Miss…? Can I get a paramedic over here?!”
Allison had never felt so terrified in her entire life. She was no longer surrounded by her fellow students that she had been trapped in the cafeteria with. They had been whisked away by the gathered crowd outside the school the second that they had exited the south side doors. As soon as they had left the lunch room she had began to sweat and tremble profusely. It was almost as if she no longer had control over her body.
“Her blood pressure is a bit high…” she heard a female voice from next to her call.
“Her skin is cool and clammy; I want her on 15lpm Oxygen right now! I think she’s going into shock!”
“Miss!” it was the African American officer that was talking to her before. “I need you to sit down on the curb for me, okay? We’re going to get you cleaned up and brought to the hospital…” she was pushed to the curb quickly; her teeth bit down on her lower lip at the sudden impact.
“I have blood in my mouth…” she stammered.
The female paramedic turned around and gave her a concerned look. “Jerry! She’s looking worse!”
An older, graying man jogged towards Allison and handed her a wet cloth. “Miss, you might want to clean your face.”
She began to feel hot tears fall from her eyes. “Why?”
“Honey, there’s just some…” The female bit her lip and raised the cloth up to Allison’s forehead herself. “There’s just a bit of blood on your face, so I’m just going to get you cleaned up.”
Allison’s eyes dropped from the woman’s face to the cloth that she was holding. As soon as she saw the dark, eerie red slopped across the cloth, her stomach lurched forward and she emptied her lunch contents onto the ground ahead of her. She couldn’t ever remember a time that seeing blood on her skin made her feel so sick.
However, she could also never remember a time when blood on her skin did not belong to her.
… … …
Brian Johnson sat still at a large, gray desk. There was a large mirror on the wall ahead of him, but he had seen enough cop shows to know that the mirror was actually two-way, and the officiating superiors were listening in on his comments. The room was painted a pale gray, and nothing else hung from the walls. There was a single lamp hanging from the ceiling above the table; the only illumination in the room.
He was alone save for the two burly detectives in front of him - Officers Jim Davis and Ty Garcia.
“We want you to tell us everything that you can remember, Brian. We know how stressful this can be, but it’s the only way we can have this pieced together and wrapped up.” The tall officer slid a clear glass of water in front of him and smiled. “That was a brave thing that you kids did today, you know. You should be proud of yourselves.”
Brian frowned at that. “People died today...I can’t be proud of something like that.”
The darker skinned detective, Garcia, frowned and sat on the chair across from him. “You made it out of there alive, and that’s something to be thankful for.”
“I don’t know about that…” Brian chewed his lower lip and stared at his hands; just earlier they had been brightly stained with blood, and there was still a slight pink tint leftover from the scrub job he gave them. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “How many of them were there?”
“What?” Davis asked.
“Uh…you know…casualties?” he was almost afraid to hear the number.
The two officers shot each other knowing glances, before Davis, the senior, spoke. “Uh, the last time I heard they were still sweeping the school, but it was…uh…about nine.”
Brian felt his face pale. “That…th-that’s a lot of people.”
“I know, son,” Garcia nodded. “And that’s exactly why it’s so important that we figure all this out…why it happened. This is the worst one since California State in ’76.”
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked painfully.
“Wherever you think you need to, Brian. Just tell us everything you know that you think can be of help, by all means you let us know.” Garcia pressed a record button on a giant sized audio recording system and gestured for Brian to begin.
“Have you ever heard of the song ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’?” he asked quietly.
Davis nodded. “Yeah, it’s by some British band.”
“It’s about a girl who killed a bunch of people at a school…like a true story, you know?” Brian said quietly, without making any direct eye contact. “I remember him singing that song a few days ago. He carved it in the wall in the hallway in front of the gym.”
“With what?” Garcia asked, as he wrote a few things down.
Brian shrugged. “Just a compass that he took from math class; we were sitting out in the hallway during lunch break and he just carved it in there as if there was nothing strange about it.”
“Was that abnormal behavior for him?” Davis questioned as politely as he could.
“Sort of,” Brian replied. “I’d never seen him vandalize anything before that. He was usually a pretty respectful kid. I mean, he was funny, loud, and sometimes he liked to play jokes with the other children in our group.”
“What was so different this time?”
Brian swallowed. “He’d been bullied forever. I knew him in public school, and middle school too. No matter how happy he was, or how nice he was to people, they always shit on him. They never gave him a break.”
“Do you think that was why he did this?”
Brian shrugged. “I don’t know why he did this! All I know is that he had some incident in the gym with a jock yesterday…he beat him up pretty bad and humiliated him, you know?”
Garcia nodded slowly. “What did this ‘jock’ do exactly?”
“I wasn’t there in person, so I can’t say for sure…” Brian replied quietly. “But from rumors I heard floating around the school he had jumped him…and he, uh…”
“It’s okay, you can tell us…”
“He jumped on top of him and hit him. Then I heard - but I don’t know how accurate this is - but I heard that he put tape all over his…um, uh…you know, behind. Everyone laughed at him.” Brian felt hot tears begin to prick at the back of his eyes. “It was totally a weird story, you know? It was so strange that I still have a hard time believing that it’s true!”
“Could we possibly get this ‘jock’s’ name? Maybe we could bring him in for questioning?” Garcia asked politely. “It could help, you know…”
“You already know his name,” Brian spat bitterly. “And he’s not a bad person…he’s, well…he saved my life!” The tears began to flow freely by that point.
“Well, we won’t get him into any trouble, son. You can tell us,” Davis urged gently.
Brian wiped at his eyes angrily and sighed. “It was Andrew Clark.”
… … …
It had been stormy all morning. If there was one thing Claire hated more than a bad hair day, it was a stormy day. It made sense really, rain and static caused horrendous hair, and soaking wet clothes -- and puddles were just not good for her expensive Ralph Lauren boots. She got away lucky that morning as she was able to get her father to drop her off right at the school’s front doors; she only had to do a slight touch-up when she reached the bathroom.
And because said touch-ups were done immediately, she still looked fabulous at lunch time. Unlike her friends, Claire didn’t use four thousand pounds of eye shadow and hair spray, so her appearance was usually the most kept up of the girls in her group. Unfortunately, that always left her as the first one in the cafeteria - and in turn, she had to wait by herself at the table for them to join her.
Long passed were the days that she would accompany them to the bathroom. When she would go, it always turned into one huge gossip fest that would then turn into a bitch fest, and sometimes even a cat fight between the girls. They had this horrible tendency of accidentally spreading rumors about each other, and then things would get hairy.
She had long since decided that she would rather wait in the already filling cafeteria with her lunch, so that she knew for sure that she would actually get the opportunity to eat.
That day wasn’t as bad because she had ended up seated at a table next to a table full of cute jock boys. The sports were a rowdy bunch of characters that almost always seemed to be doing something to get them into trouble at someone else’s expense. There was one time - the afternoon before the homecoming game - that a group of football players had ran through the cafeteria completely butt naked, painted blue, grey, and white (the Shermer High spirit colors).
The boys next to her that day were the Shermer High All-Star Varsity wrestlers. She knew a couple of them from previous encounters; Jake Ryan was the senior MVP, Jack Peterson was dating a good friend of hers, Vanessa, and Andrew Clark had sat next to her on the homecoming float. A few of the boys shot her some smiles and waved, and she happily returned the gesture.
“How you doin’ today, Miss Standish?” a red headed boy asked her teasingly.
Scott McPherson was such a flirt. Claire politely smiled at him. “I’m fine, Scott. How are you?”
“Oh you know, school is school,” he grinned. He had a face full of freckles and two dimples on either side of his cheeks; it was kind of cute. “I would be much happier if it was Saturday.”
She smiled at that and looked through her lunch sack. She had forgotten a fork. “Oh shoot,” she muttered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Scott watched her as she stood from the wooden table. “Sure thing; I’ll watch your lunch for you.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. There was a small room next to the lunch line that had a few vending machines, condiments, and other lunch time ‘accessories’. She began the walk toward it to grab herself some plastic utensils.
… … …
“Okay did you grab any ketchup?”
John glared at his bald headed friend, Tom. “Why the hell do you want ketchup of all things?”
Cody, another friend, grinned. “Because once it sits in sun for long enough it’s a fucking bitch to come off. But I still say you’ve got it all wrong! You need sugar.”
John snorted. “Sugar in a gas tank doesn’t do shit! Do you know how much sugar you need for that?”
“He’s right,” John’s best friend Roger pitched in. “Put water in it.”
“Water?” Tom repeated; he was quite obviously confused. John grinned at Roger and the group of four boys turned and looked at the topic of their conversation: Richard Vernon’s car. Once again, John was being sent to serve Saturday detention, and he was not happy about it. To get some sweet revenge, the boys were plotting ways to fuck up the man’s car. Tom and Cody were coming up with ridiculous idea after ridiculous idea, and it was starting to annoy John. Luckily, Roger had more of a brain, and was actually pitching in something intelligent whenever he decided to perk up with something.
“Yeah,” Roger raked a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Water and gas don’t mix. The gas will just float on top of it.”
“Or we can just siphon the fucking gas, replace it with water, and dump the gas on the interior,” John grinned widely at the thought.
“But why put it inside?” Tom asked. “Why don’t we just steal it and sell it to some poor jack ass on King Street for some money?”
“Yeah!” Cody agreed, slapping the bigger boy on the shoulder. “We can get some acid or something!”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Like you need it.”
“No, his interior is leather! If we dump the gas all over the inside it will be a bitch to clean up.” The long haired boy grinned at his idea. “And the water will just fuck the shit out of the fuel lines.”
Roger gave him a wicked grin. “We can always fill up his exhaust with rocks while we’re at it.”
“Dick is gonna be so displeased,” John mused as he rubbed his chin.
“Can we still put sugar in the gas tank just so we can say we did it?” Tom asked.
John rolled his eyes. “Sugar doesn’t really clump up well in water, you know.”
“Fine, Tom, we’ll get some sugar,” Roger laughed at the big skinhead.
“Okay, clowns,” John announced. “Gimme all your fuckin’ change so I can go get some water.” Tom, Cody, and Roger all dug through their pant pockets and each came out with a couple of pathetic bucks in change. John dug a crumpled up one dollar bill and added it to the pile. He smiled easily and regarded his friends. “Three bottles should be more than enough.”
“Go with four, just to be safe,” Roger stated.
“Done and done,” John smirked and pocketed the money. “I’ll be right back, ladies.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Roger asked as he jammed his hands into his jean pockets. John could only perk an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sure I can handle it, mom,” he grinned at his friend. “I’ll be back before you can even say ‘beaver’.”
John turned on his heel and began the short walk back into the school and toward the cafeteria. However, before he was even ten feet away, Tom called out to him once more.
“Don’t forget the sugar, dude!”
… … …
Brian smiled as he spotted his friend Cassie walking toward him down the hall. He placed his text book into his locker, and turned to face her. “Where are you going?”
She bit her lip; she looked very upset, and it worried him. “Um…I don’t really know how to explain this…but…”
“Oh god, did uh, someone die? You have that thing where you’re blinking a lot and your ears are red! That only happens when you’re nervous! Are you sick?” Brian rambled on in spite of himself; he couldn’t help it, he cared about Cassie and he didn’t want anything bad to be going on.
She quickly shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Brian, it’s Larry.”
“What about him?” Brian asked quickly. “I didn’t know that he was at school today.”
Cassie bit her lip. “Me neither, but he just met with David and I at Jordan’s locker.”
“Well, is he okay? Did he say if he was pressing charges against that boy who hurt him?” Brian wondered why Larry would come to school the day after something like that had happened. Brian wasn’t present at the time, but he had heard a nasty rumor about a wrestler beating up Larry in the locker room the previous day.
“No…he didn’t say that.” Cassie sighed and tucked a loose strand of her orange hair behind her tiny ear. “He said that he wanted us to leave for lunch.”
Brian’s eyebrows furrowed at that. “Well why would he want that? We need to eat our lunch during this period or we won’t get another chance to eat!”
“I don’t know, but he seemed strange, Brian,” Cassie commented offhandedly. “He gave us some money and begged us to leave. Go to McDonald’s or something, and he knows I don’t even like McDonald’s!”
Brian felt a strange sense of dread fill up inside of him. “He begged you?”
“Pretty much,” Cassie said, her voice a little higher than normal. “He said that if we stayed he was scared something bad would happen. David is already in his car, and he told me to come find you.”
“Uh…” Brian swallowed not quite sure what to do. “Maybe you should go ahead without me.”
“What? Why?” Cassie asked, sounding even more upset. “Brian, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you!”
“It won’t,” he promised. “Cass, I bet that Larry is just worried that one of us will get hurt like he did yesterday. What happened to him is, uh, you know, kind of embarrassing. I’m sure he’s just upset.”
“But…” her face fell and she looked at him behind her thick lashes. “I don’t think he’s okay.”
Brian reached out and squeezed her hand. “We’ve been friends a long time, right?”
“Yes, but…” she trailed off.
“Then just trust me, okay?” Brian assured her. “Go with David and Jordan and I’ll see you in fifth period, okay?”
“What are you going to do?” Cassie asked him.
“I’m just going to go find Larry and talk to him…and I’ll make sure he’s okay.” Brian gave her a reassuring smile, even though he still felt a bit off. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”
She sighed and nodded before walking past him toward the front stairwell of the school. Something major must’ve definitely been up with Larry if he spooked Cassie that bad. Cassie was usually the level headed one in their group, and even more often the voice of reason. Brian felt awkward having to comfort her. He would have to talk to Larry and find out why he was so upset.
He closed his locker and headed down to the cafeteria.
… … …
“So you went down to the cafeteria to look for him?” Detective Garcia asked. “Did you find him there?”
Brian shook his head. “No, I didn’t. He wasn’t seated at our table, and he wasn’t in line for food.”
“So what did you do next?” Davis pressed.
“I went to his locker, and I even went to the office to ask Grace if he had attended his classes today. She told me that he didn’t even come to school.”
“Okay,” Garcia conceded. “Is Larry in any of your classes?”
“No,” Brian stated. “Larry is - was - a senior. I’m just a junior. We always hung out together at lunch time though, and even during study period. But I didn’t see him there today.”
“So after you talked to Grace where did you go?”
Brian paused and blinked at him. “David had already left. So I just went to the cafeteria to eat my lunch.”
“By yourself?” Davis asked looking surprised.
Brian nearly glared at him. “Yes. My friends all went out for lunch. I don’t mind eating by myself.”
“We need to know your exact location once you reached the cafeteria, and where you were when the violence began.” Garcia, the seemingly nicer cop of the two, gently urged.
“I sat down at my table and unpacked my lunch. My table is the first one on the right when you come in through the main doors. But after I had looked through my lunch I had decided that I wanted some mayonnaise and salt. So I repacked my lunch and put it into my knapsack,” Brian explained. He was still shaking and the more he talked, the more frightened he felt. “I brought my stuff with me to the condiment room so that none of the jerks around my table would steal it. When I got there, there were already three people in the room. One was Claire, the red headed girl, the other was John Bender, and the last was Allison, the quiet girl.”
“What about Andrew Clark?”
Brian bit his lip. “He came in a few minutes later. Right after that, everything just went crazy.”
… … …
“I’m surprised there isn’t a bigger line in here,” Brian chuckled when he walked into the condiment room. Usually he wouldn’t bother talking out loud to the students around him if he didn’t know them well, but his nervous mood was playing games with him.
There were two girls inside the room. One was digging through the plastic utensil bin, and the other - strangely enough - was seated on the floor in the corner of the room and eating her lunch with her head phones on. The last person in the room was much taller, bigger, and meaner looking than Brian. He was pretty sure that he had seen the seemingly older boy before, but he couldn’t quite place where. Whatever the case, the long haired teenager did not look too impressed with Brian’s socialization tactics.
“What’s it to you?” he snapped as he plucked a handful of change into the soda machine.
Brian shrugged. “Nothing really, I was just commenting is all.”
“Cute,” the boy spat, and turned around to finish his business. Brian couldn’t help but notice the red headed girl turn to face the boy.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” she hissed. “If you don’t want to listen then don’t.”
That surprised Brian; girls like her didn’t usually acknowledge that he even existed.
“What do you care anyways?” the boy turned around sharply and glared at her. “Don’t even pretend that you do because we all know some rich bitch like yourself could give a shit less about scum like him.”
The girl’s eyes widened considerably. “Excuse me? You don’t even know me!”
“And you don’t know me, yet you butted your nose into my business, didn’t you?” the long haired boy drawled nastily, and grabbed yet another bottle of water from the vending machine.
“Is something wrong in here?” a new voice filled the room, and Brian turned to notice one of the senior athletes enter the small room. “I thought I heard yelling.”
“Come to rescue me?” the other boy rolled his eyes and began filling the machine with coins again. “Thanks anyways, but don’t bother.”
The new boy in the room, who was shorter and had blonde hair, scrunched up his face in an annoyed manner. He turned to face the red headed preppy girl. “Are you okay, Claire?”
She blinked a few times before nodding. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Andrew. I was just leaving.”
The boy - Andrew - gave her a swift nod. “Are you sure? Because I can…”
“Run to her rescue and become heroic prince faggy pants?” The long haired boy scoffed and grabbed a water bottle from the vending tray. “How fucking romantic.”
“What’s your problem, man?” Andrew demanded. “Why are you being such a jerk?”
The long haired boy stepped toward the jock with a nasty scowl on his face. Brian stepped back silently away from the two, and joined Claire on their left. The mad boy stared menacingly into the Andrew’s eyes. “Because you richies make me sick. You try and act all good hearted and upstanding citizen-like when we all know you’re just a bunch of clowns. Stop trying to be a damn hero.”
Andrew opened his mouth to retort but was caught off by a shriek coming from the main room of the cafeteria. Both boys were instantly distracted from one another, and they both turned to the doorway that led into the lunch room. Brian and Claire followed them, but stopped so they didn’t pass them. The girl in the corner did not move from her spot, but she looked on in confused interest.
What Brian saw through the door confused him so much that he didn’t even think about trying to leave the room. Inside the cafeteria, mass amounts of students were running and fleeing toward the main exit and the fire exit at the other end of the room. The small condiment room was directly in the middle of the cafeteria, so both exits were exactly thirty five feet away from where they stood.
“Is there another fire alarm or something?” Andrew asked.
“The bell didn’t go off,” the taller boy snapped at him.
Before another word was said, four very loud pops sounded off in the distance, causing another round of screams from the students inside the lunch room. Strangely enough, the tall boy ducked to the floor at the sound, while Claire pushed her hands against her ears. Andrew just stood staring at the running students looking stunned.
“Was that a motherfucking gun?” The boy yelled.
“What?!” Claire screamed in panic at his insinuation.
“Why would there be a gun…” Andrew was cut off by another three pops, and that time they sounded a lot louder and a lot closer. All four of them had ducked at the sound, and afterward a look of horror fell on Andrew’s face. “Oh my god…”
Brian felt a hand grab his elbow and push him out of the way. He turned quickly to face the small girl that had been in the corner before. She had her bag on her shoulder and a determined look on her face…one that read she was getting the hell out of there.
“Wait!” Andrew yelled at her as she pushed past him. Instinctively, the blonde haired boy chased her out of the room, and was quickly pursued by the taller boy as well. The sudden leave left Claire and Brian at the doorway to get a better view of the chaotic lunch room.
There were children lying on the ground. Screams sounded from all different directions throughout the room, and the people who were still in the room had nearly given up on running, and had taken up hiding. Andrew and the two other students from the condiment room froze in their steps as they took in the carnage around them. Blood was smeared across the floor, and book bags and notebooks were strewn about as if a tornado had passed through the room.
“Come back!” Claire sobbed at them; her voice cut through his ears like a knife.
Andrew grabbed the girl and roughly shoved her toward the condiment room. Once the three reconvened inside, Brian was able to see why the carnage had fallen through the school…why people were dropping like flies.
There was his friend, Larry Lester, the very boy he had spent the first half of lunch break looking for. His usually neat hair was unkempt and tussled. Brian couldn’t see his face, but he could tell by his friend’s shoulder movement that he was actually laughing. His arms were bent at either side of his body, and in his hands were two guns. From the distance, Brian couldn’t tell what kind they were - only that they were handguns.
He was shooting up the school.
… … …
Allison picked herself up from the ground and nearly toppled over again when she experienced a head rush. She had no physical injuries that put her at risk, but she couldn’t focus on anything. She kept vomiting and collapsing, and she couldn’t for the life of her make out what the paramedics were trying to say. They were frantically trying to get her to accept an oxygen mask, but every time it was placed on her face she would experience the claustrophobia.
Inside a tiny little room sharing air with four hyperventilating teens who couldn’t - or wouldn’t - stop bickering, and screaming, and sobbing. Every word and every scream was on repeat in her brain and it was all she could hear. The low whirring of the oxygen tank reminded her of vending machines springing to life. Vending machines that vibrated against her back as she clutched her knees to her chest and bit back her tears.
She thought she was going to die in that room with those strangers.
And somebody did die…and their blood was on her. On her hands and on her face, it was spilled to protect her from a madman who could’ve - and should’ve - had her dead before the day ended.
Where had they gone? She had no idea what had become of the teens that had survived along side of her. They were all whisked away in opposite directions by people who were poking and prodding for answers. These people did not understand what she was going through. They had no idea how horrified and scared she was being out in that parking lot all alone amongst death and carnage. She was slowly slipping away from the real world, and she wasn’t quite sure if she could ever find her way back.
The female paramedic cupped her face once more. There was a doctor on scene next to her, and that man had gestured toward a syringe in his hand. His mouth was moving in some awkward attempt to explain his actions to her, but his words were not reaching Allison’s ears. Her gaze dropped back down to the syringe as he directed it to her bicep.
And still the low buzzing in her ears was heard.
… … …
“Why didn’t you run?” Davis asked Brian. He was seated on the opposite side of the table and taking notes. Brian wasn’t sure why he was doing that because he had the audio device recording their discussion. The dark eyed man stared at him. “His back was turned and people were still fleeing, so why did you guys feel the need to lock yourselves inside of that room?”
Garcia sighed and rubbed his temples. “Was there still a chance of escaping at that point?”
Brian stared at the metal table top ahead of him and contemplated his answer before speaking. “Allison tried to leave. She just wanted to go and take her chances, and to tell you the truth, I can’t say that I blame her. But Andy stopped her…and so did John.”
“Why?” Davis asked again. “Do you feel that Allison could have found her way out if she wouldn’t have listened to them?”
He blinked, and wiped the sweat forming on his brow. “I don’t know. Maybe she could have, but there was a good chance she would have been stopped. Some people made it out of there alright, but a lot of people got hit. I think maybe Andy wouldn’t have let her even if she had tried.”
“Do you regret listening to Andrew and John about staying behind?”
Did he? Instinct had taken over by then and logic wasn’t really an issue. How does one listen to their head when natural impulse takes over? Brian felt that at the time he didn’t have much control over what he did, so the question - he felt - was much too difficult to answer.
“I don’t really know,” he spoke slowly. “Andrew and John took charge; they weren’t afraid to make decisions for us. We were too scared. I can’t speak for Allison, but for me - I...I, uh felt compelled to listen to them for some reason. They were the only sense of control going on in that entire situation and I think that maybe I would’ve listened to anyone shouting orders at that time.” Brian took a deep breath and sighed. “I know this might sound weird, but I’m so used to strict organization and schedule…all of that was out of whack and beyond my control so any sort of management was almost like comfort to me…and Andy and John had that…so I had to listen to them.”
“That does make sense, Brian,” Garcia spoke. “Don’t forget that there’s no right or wrong answer to these questions, okay? So don’t let anything - even your own confusion - influence you from speaking. Any information is valuable right now, even if it doesn’t seem to make any sense at this time.”
Brian nodded. “Okay.”
“So, the five of you locked yourselves into the room. I’m under the impression that there was no other way out of there. There weren’t any windows or other doors?” The cop asked.
Brian shook his head. “No; it was a very small room. There was a railing to keep the line under control, two condiment counters, a snack machine, and a soda machine - that’s it.”
“Okay, so now that you’ve been inside the room was there anything else that happened that was of importance between the time you went in, and the time you guys came out?”
Brian thought about the minutes that seemed like hours that he was trapped in the room. The mix of people in there made it incredibly difficult for much effective teamwork to occur. “Just planning, and comforting really. Claire was hysterical, and I think Allison was too. I didn’t really know what to say, so most of the talking was done by Andrew and John. Andy had also confessed that he was the one who had assaulted Larry yesterday.”
Garcia nodded. “And do you believe that had any affect on Andrew’s actions and mental state?”
Brian nodded. “One hundred percent.”
… … …