Read The Competition for Free Online Page B

Campbell—”
    “Dale. It’s Dale—”
    “Dale. It’s over now. You did all you could. It’s time to take care of yourself. Have you been checked out by the EMTs yet?”
    “I…uh—” His gaze dulled. “D-don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m okay.”
    Obviously, appealing to his sense of self-preservation wasn’t going to cut it. “Look, the only thing we need from you right now is to show us how to view the surveillance footage. We’ll come back to you soon. And when we do, we’ll need you to be in shape because it’s going to be a detailed interview. If you land in the hospital, you’ll slow down the investigation. You wouldn’t want to do that, right?”
    He nodded slowly.
    “So you need to stay healthy for everyone’s sake. Let the paramedics give you a once-over, okay?”
    He didn’t like the idea, but he finally capitulated. He took us to the room where the video monitor for the surveillance footage was kept, showed us how to scan the footage, and left.
    “Let’s start with the cameras closest to the gym doors,” Bailey said.
    Black-and-white images of the hallway just outside the gym doors jerked across the monitor. A woman holding a clipboard to her chest came into view. Her heels snicked loudly on the linoleum floor as she passed under the camera, then faded as she moved away. For another few seconds the screen showed an empty hallway, and I heard faint echoes of a voice speaking into a microphone—Principal Campbell, probably—then cheering, like waves breaking on a distant shore. It was another few seconds before I heard the screaming. At first, it sounded like any ordinary crowd watching a basketball game. Then I heard the flat crack of gunshots—faint at first, but growing louder as the killers moved down the bleachers. A few moments later, the screen filled with the images of bodies desperately clawing their way out through the gym doors, climbing over each other as they struggled to make it through the clogged exit. In the background, the sounds of gunfire, continuous, relentless, grew louder. Finally, the gunmen came into view.
    The balaclavas and camouflage jackets covered them so completely I could only get a general idea of height and weight. One was taller than the other and looked to be around six feet. They both carried assault rifles and wore gloves. I saw the shorter one take aim at a person who, with outstretched arms, was trying to shield a group of students. Most likely Angela, the coach we’d just heard about from Principal Campbell. The killer fired. He threw back his head. Was he laughing? Jesus.
    The taller one took aim at someone on the ground, then held his weapon up in front of his face and shook it. He smacked it with his palm once, twice, then dropped it to the ground. As he moved away, I saw him reach inside his jacket and pull out a handgun. By that time the shorter gunman had already moved out of camera range, but I could hear the crack-crack-crack that told me he was firing continuously.
    Eventually, the sounds of gunshots and screaming faded into the background, leaving only the shrill clanging of the fire alarm. The screen showed an empty doorway and three inert forms sprawled on the floor.
    Bailey started the next tape. “This is the one upstairs. I’m not sure it has anything for us.”
    It didn’t. The shriek of the fire alarm echoed down empty hallways, though I could hear screams and gunshots in the distance that had to be coming from the stairway or the library.
    “And this will be the cafeteria exit,” Bailey said.
    The monitor showed Principal Campbell holding the door as panicked students tumbled and staggered out. He faced the inside of the school as they ran, looking over their heads. “He’s acting as the lookout. But what was he going to do if the killers showed up? Throw a lunch tray at them?”
    “My guess? Take the bullet.”
    Angela, the principal…and probably many more had shown such bravery and selflessness in the face of