I don't care if it was two against one essentially, I'd've bet on Jimmy ten times out of ten. I think it was just the look on his face as he set his body between the two men and slightly bent his knees, kept his hands up, open palmed. A look of crystal-clear determination wrinkled his chin around the duct tape and bloody chin patch that made him look tougher than I'd ever seen him. Stay out of this. That's what his eyes told me.
So I lingered where I was, behind the table that Dermoody had been on when we rushed in. Every part of me wanted to steam in on Cap'n Joe and clip him from behind before he even saw me coming. I had plenty of room to do it in. But I didn't.
Tables had been pushed away from the entrance leaving a big open area, apart from the bodies. I had a strange feeling then. That was for sure, standing in the cafeteria and seeing bodies on the floor and somehow trying to merge it with the same big room I'd spent some part of almost every day in for the last two years. They had to be fake, those bodies. Even though I'd seen it happen, they couldn't be real, could they? Melinda wasn't really dead. Right? My gut knew the truth. My brain just hadn't caught up yet. Guns didn't make any sense to me. How they could kill without effort.
I could see right out the big glass entryway, the six black-trimmed bulletproof doors, and into the quad. And there was something strange going on because there was no one in it. It was absolutely deserted. Pretty much the only sign that someone had been there was my dripped bloodstains on the concrete right by the flagpole. Probably left a good bit of skin on that metal rope too.
It gets dark real early in the winter and twilight was ending outside. What was more, it was snowing and had been doing so for about five minutes if I had to guess by the real light dusting on the big, squared-off sections of concrete. Bound to be a heavy one, most likely. At least, judging by what I could see of the fading sky. The dark gray clouds that were floating in low and bloated, like a bunch of B-52s, heavy with a cargo of moisture that would freeze as soon as it left the millions of tiny bomb bay doors and dropped to the ground to accumulate instead of explode. It'd be a hard, dry snow. Especially with the sun gone.
It occurred to me that Cap'n Joe was like most big men as he lumbered into position across from Jimmy. One little scratch and they were worthless for the rest of the fight. I mean, there he was, all of six foot eight and way over two hundred pounds, cradling his broken wrist and hand like it was a kitten that needed to be protected at all costs and not something that would heal eventually. Jimmy knew this. All it would take was a feint to get Cap'n Joe to spin away and not go through with a planned move.
If there was anyone to be worried about, it was Dermoody, big and angry, having picked himself up off the floor. His fighting style was completely unorthodox. Which is not to say that it was bad, because it wasn't. If he had anything going for him, it was unpredictability. He lined up like a boxer. His strengths were throwing and holds. Jimmy just needed to make sure he didn't get close enough to get thrown. Not a problem.
It started quickly. As far as Cap'n Joe was concerned, Jimmy was merciful. He faked like he was going after Dermoody and then spun and paralyzed Cap'n Joe. So quick. Just like that. I mean, I was behind Cap'n Joe and I thought Jimmy was just punching him real fast but then the big guy stopped moving and I knew exactly what'd happened.
That was it. Only him and Dermoody then. It wasn't even a fair fight. Dermoody, all bleeding from his cheek and squinting, kept lunging forward and trying to grab Jimmy. But my cousin was too quick, skipping to the side and unloading on his kidneys, chopping his neck. Jimmy dodged an awkward punch and swept behind Dermoody, kicking his legs out, dragging him to what was left of Melinda's body and smothering his face in her still-flowing blood like a dog owner would do to a puppy when trying to train it not to pee in the house.
He shoved Dermoody's nose in it and the warm liquid must've gone up into his nostrils when he tried to breathe and he had to cough the flecks and lumps of bone or organ out. But the slightly metallic taste must've lingered on his tongue. Just like the taste of Cue's blood and spinal fluid cocktail surged on the crease in mine. How it seemed connected to the nightmares I'd had every night, and every morning I'd awaken with the same taste in my mouth. Like it never went away. But I couldn't let it take over me. I had to stay focused. Present.
Jimmy hauled Dermoody to his feet. It was still a sight seeing such a small guy drag people bigger than him around. Dermoody's last words before Jimmy froze him were aimed at me with big pleading eyes like he wasn't even the same person that pulled the trigger earlier: "Don't you want to be free, Jen?" And then he was a human statue.
I closed the distance between us and spat in his face. The mucus I summoned up dragged a path down his cheek, like a slug, revealing his mottled skin underneath Melinda's blood. This killer was going to get what he deserved. I pawed the shotgun up from the floor and lunged for Dermoody clumsily, fishing in his -p^NWl^ back pocket for the shells, the yellow ones. Then I cracked open the stock, tipped out the empties, and tried desperately to shove the new shells in just like I'd seen my beloved principal do. Took me four tries before I got them using the back of my numb left hand.
"No, Jenny, please." Jimmy's voice sounded so normal compared to the rest of him. His face was contorted all up and his knees and forearms were coated with a thickening mess of Melinda's blood. The cougar and the letters on his shirt weren't even visible anymore. For the most part, it looked like he was wearing a red shirt and red shorts. I couldn't believe it was the same person that had just mashed Dermoody's face into the reddest part of the floor.
"Dammit, Jimmy, you fuckin' heard him! How's he ever going to be punished? They're going to call him a hero for defending the school and he's fuckin' right." I was screaming the words, I didn't know where it came from, all of sudden I couldn't stop the anger in me. "If Ridley's gone and he stays, the students'll be worse off than we ever were before! He's got to go!"
"You still can't do this," Jimmy said. He held up crimson palms. Like that was going to convince me.
"But no one else will!" My words were shrill, it didn't even feel like me talking, like something had been opened inside and was talking for me. "How can you fuckin' say that? Donnie is deader than a bucket of shit because of you, and probably a few more people too, and now one of the people that deserves it the most isn't going to get it? Fuck that, I'll do it myself!"
Jimmy swiped the gun from me so easily. I think I kind of wanted him to. With my hands the way they were, I could never have pulled the trigger. Not even with a thumb. It was physically impossible. All the drama wasn't strictly for Dermoody. I knew it. He was just a nice unmoving target. It was for everything, everyone. It would've been for never seeing my mom again, for never being able to see my brother again, for only seeing my father having control over half a body, for the storm of confusion that was Jimmy good and bad, for the stupid terrible fuck-up that was me.
That was when one of the doors to the quad opened behind us. Like a bad surprise. Like a fuckin' gameshow. And what do we have behind door number two? Why, the mystery guest, of course! He's head of the Whips! He's acting like a vulture, waiting for others to do his dirty work! He's cleaning up the mess, tying up loose ends, because Ridley told him to! Would those of you who can still clap please give a warm round of applause for ... Bruiser Calderón!
Jimmy and I both jumped back at the same time, ready to defend ourselves. Jimmy pointed the gun at him but Bruiser just put his hands up.
"You goin' after Ridley? Good. Go right ahead, kids. Don't let me stop you. I got a feeling his time is up." He entered the cafeteria and held the door open for us to walk through and out. Into the snow.
When he saw we weren't taking him up on his offer, he backed off and let the door close with him inside. He left two wet boot prints on the tile.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of them," he said.
Jimmy must've believed him because he broke open the stock and dropped the shells onto the ground, kicked them away underneath a far table. Then he set the gun on the floor and we backed toward the doors. It seemed like a hell of a risk to me with Bruiser right there. But as soon as the gun was unloaded and down, Bruiser stopped paying attention to us. Besides, if he was gonna do us in, it sure as hell wouldn't be by gun.
"Yoo hoo." Bruiser dipped his shoulder as he said it to Dermoody. "Remember me? ¿Recuerda mi hermano metior? Remember what you did to him? I know you can hear me, jefe. I could hear everything when I was like that too. That's why this is gonna hurt a whole lot worse. ¡Vas a sufrir mucho dolor y entonces una muerte fantastical. Because you'll know it's coming."
Bruiser leaned close and whispered the last part right into Dermoody's ear just as jimmy dragged me out the door and the air, below freezing, slid over my wounds, making me forget how hot they were for a moment. Like a clear plastic bag. Like that boy in the bubble.