The 30 percent chance of thunderstorms turned into 100 percent rain. Still, instead of being dropped off directly in front of my apartment, I had the Uber driver return me to another spot on campus. Even though he was a completely different driver, why risk it? Besides, rain or not, the front stone arch that welcomed everyone to the university was dope.
E Pluribus Unum was etched beneath the university’s name in the gray-colored stone. During orientation, it was explained that the Latin motto meant “out of many, one.” It was adopted by the Founding Fathers for the seal that’s on all our money. The idea was that out of many states, one country was formed. It was as American as it got.
It also fit my mood.
Out of all the many pawn shops, I’d picked the one with a newlywed couple who were cash poor and needed to sell stuff. It sucked that Katie was married, but it totally explained her personality. Married women flirted more than women who weren’t. It was like they knew the signal they sent off could never be returned, so it created this safe space for them to be as forward as they wanted. Either that or they were bored as fuck and wanted to flirt with total strangers to spice shit up in their lives. Didn’t matter. Katie was married to Pedro. And Pedro was one dude I wouldn’t fuck with. His camo jacket did little to disguise that the guy was ripped.
I slung my ski bag over my shoulder, and the weight of the rifle rested against my back. The box of bullets bumped against my thigh with each step.
Students ran through the quad with backpacks over their heads as if they’d melt from the light splattering of rain.
“Lame.”
Agreed.
The mass amount of people running all around campus didn’t even bother me. I was at peace. I had a plan, one that would get the results David wanted. I wasn’t crazy about it, but if it meant David and I were on the same page, I’d do it.
Thunder cracked and lightning lit the sky. More students blurred past me, but the rain and I kept a steady pace. I headed toward the student union for a bite to eat and glanced in the direction of my apartment complex. A campus cop car was parked on the side of the building beside the dumpsters. I kept walking toward the union with my focus on my upstairs apartment. I had a corner apartment that was easy to spot from a distance, even through the rain. But to see my front door, I walked diagonally, away from the union and closer toward the complex, to get a clearer view.
My front door was shut, but someone stood off to the side.
“What the fuck?”
Yeah, what’s up with that?
I squinted just as a campus cop popped up from the side stairwell. He walked in the direction of the other dude, who was outside my apartment.
“Tom? Is that Tom?”
It looked like my resident advisor, but I couldn’t be sure.
My stomach tightened and I clenched my jaw. It felt like I’d been hit by one of the lightning bolts that broke through the gray clouds. My heart raced, and even though it was raining, I felt sweat running down my leg. Either that or I’d pissed myself.
“Stay calm and hide the gun.”
David’s voice in my head was the only one that drowned out all others.
The university was a stone’s throw—or gun toss—away from the biggest river in the state. I walked toward the north end of campus and the footbridge that overlooked the river. The light rain became a downpour. The sudden high-pitched, ear-splitting sound of the tornado siren startled me, and I flinched. My entire body tensed so much that my muscles cramped when I walked.
“Keep it together. This is no time to look suspicious. Man up.”
My measured steps were a stark contrast to other students who zigzagged across campus through the onslaught of rain. I held on to the strap of the ski bag and began to jog toward the footbridge. It was mid-November, and I silently prayed to whoever would still listen to me that there wasn’t any ice on the river. The footbridge was the fastest way to cross the river or, in my case, dump something into it.
“Hide it.”
No.
I never should’ve bought the gun. My bald head felt every pelt of rain like God’s wrath hailing down on me.
The sirens continued to sound, warning everyone to take shelter from the impending tornado. I ignored them and kept moving. Gloomy, heavy clouds covered the sky, and night replaced day like someone had flipped a switch and turned out all the lights. Suddenly, I was in the dark.
“I’m here. It’s okay.”
But it didn’t feel okay. My eyes burned, and I just wanted to hold someone’s hand. Worse still, David’s voice wasn’t reassuring me. I was alone.
Blinking until my eyes adjusted to the dark, I then focused on the lights that softly illuminated the bridge in the distance.
But if I could see the bridge, wouldn’t the campus cops be able to see me? If they were at my apartment, wouldn’t they be looking for me?
“Pussy.”
My jaw tightened.
Shut up.
“Your dad’s right, you are a bitch.”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
I walked as fast as I dared, as the path that led to the footbridge was well worn and slippery from the rain. I took the stairs that led to the bridge’s entrance two at a time. Other students and faculty were ahead of me on the bridge; I hung back until there was enough distance between me and the last person on the bridge to go unnoticed.
I unzipped the ski bag and removed the rifle as easily and unsuspiciously as I would skis. The most obvious things were done in the open. If I acted weird, people would notice. If I didn’t, they wouldn’t care.
I glanced behind me. The next herd of people approached the steps. It was either throw the rifle now or never. I walked briskly on the steel-grid deck, dropped the rifle like a piece of trash over the side, and kept walking. My $300 cash purchase disappeared in the dark, fast-flowing river. I grabbed the box of bullets, ripped the top off, and let its contents fall like silver confetti over the side of the bridge. I was about to toss my ski bag when David’s voice in my head became a command.
“Keep it.”
Why?
It made no sense. The campus cops were at my apartment. It had to be that nosey neighbor who saw me with my ski bag and freaked out when I said I was buying an AK-47. It was the only thing that made sense.
I ripped the airport tag off the handle of the bag so violently that I yanked myself forward and lost my balance. My feet slid out from beneath me on the slick grating, and no matter how hard I tried to regain my balance, I couldn’t. The river rushed below me, and for a second I thought I’d end up in it. I held out my hand to break my fall, and in the process my ski bag fell from my shoulder into the river. I landed flat on my ass, still gripping the bag tag.
I glanced over my shoulder to see the group of students was now on the bridge. I began to stand, though every muscle in my body hurt. All I had left to dump was my fake ID. I grabbed my wallet and David’s driver’s license that was in front of mine and sent it flying into the night like a Frisbee. David would not be pleased, which was more terrifying than anything that had happened all night.