Two

The night was beautiful. The moon and stars reflected off of the dark river water like a glossy mirror. A few lights from the houses on the mountain on the other side of the water shimmered over the still and calm river. It was hard to believe that New York City was just a forty-five minute train ride from the base because of how clear the night sky was here compared to the smoggy air in the city. If West Point were a person, it would be an old soul, full of fantastical stories and a rich history. It would be a soldier, standing proud and tall, but with a purity that has become lost in today’s society. It would be the type of person that would make one feel safe when they were wrapped in their arms.

            The youth leader, Nate, was busy by the bonfire. He was talking with a police officer while monitoring a few teens who were adding blocks of wood to the tall flames. With every toss a few embers would fly into the air. Nate nodded in my direction and I sent him a short wave. He was young, but had a strong passion for leading children. He had three small ones of his own all under the age of five. Although he was a civilian, he had the same short cut of hair that most cadets had here on the base.

            My brother and sister immediately dispersed in the direction of their own group of friends leaving Brittany and me standing along the dock. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “It doesn’t smell like this in Texas,” she said. “You can’t find a still body of water like that anywhere.”

            “You should see it in the winter when its frozen. Little chunks of ice break off and then it looks scary when the water underneath still tries to move,” I said.

            “What normally happens at events like this?” my best friend asked.

            “Well, normally we spend the first half hour playing games and then the last half hour just sort of talking about specific topics, but since this is a special event, I’m not sure what Nate has planned,” I stated. “Probably a lot of games.”

            I noticed a long table of food near the bonfire. There were ingredients to make s’mores and some hotdogs to be roasted in the fire. Some kids were huddled around the end of the table where bowls of chips and pretzels were. I rolled my eyes when I saw three of my high school’s football players crowding around the glass punch bowl. I urged Brittany to follow me.

            “Really?” I said with a condescending tone as Brittany and I neared the three guys. They instantly looked up from where they were each holding a two liter Sprite bottle of what was clearing not soda. “There is an officer standing less than ten yards from you. You don’t think he’ll smell what you’re about to do, Toner?”

            His name was Travis, but like with every other football player, he was called by his last name. His light brown hair fell around his face in loose curls. He was two grades below me and a friend of my sister. His two friends beside him looked over at the officer with wide eyes as though it was the first time they had noticed the man’s presence. Toner merely smirked, playfully.

            “Hello, mama,” he said. It wasn’t with a sexual undertone or in a teasing way. It was just something that a lot of the younger ones in the youth group called me since I was such a stickler for rules and much more mature than most of them.

            “At least let Brittany any I get some punch before you spike it,” I said.

            Toner up righted the bottle of alcohol and waved his hand for me and Brittany to fill our cups before he poured whatever toxin that was into the fruity drink. I led my best friend away from the disaster that probably wouldn’t end well. Just as I suspected, Nate had several games set up for us. There was a scavenger hunt, relay race, trivia game, and so much more that it almost felt like a carnival at times. I was so glad that Brittany was having a good time.

            About an hour into the night, things took a sudden turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a school bus making its way down the steep road. It pulled up along the railroad tracks and just sat there. Most of the kids and cadets were too focused on the events around them to notice the automobile’s sudden presence, but it was enough to catch the attention of the police officer and Nate who were starting to make their way towards the big yellow bus. It was a Highland Falls-Fort Montgomery bus, the same one that had been assigned to my route. I recognized it by the number on the front, number 47.

            The doors to the bus opened, but no one came out. I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the screams and cheers from the members on my team for the relay race as we continued to stay in first place. Nate and the officer continued forward. I watched the officer’s hand hover over the gun hitched onto his belt. He said something, but it was too noisy to hear what and he was too far away. He then waved his hand forward, as though signaling for whoever was in the bus to come forward.

            And then it happened. A loud gunshot rang in the air and the police officer went flying back. His round body slid across the pavement until he hit the grass. His eyes were closed and his blue uniform was covered in a dark liquid. A few of the nearby teens who had seen what had happened let out horrific screams. Nate threw his arms up. He ran towards the officer and another shot rang out, this one hitting the youth leader in the back. He fell forward, hitting the ground hard as blood poured from the wound on his back. His white t-shirt was no longer crisp and clean. The flames of the bonfire danced in his wide frozen eyes.

            While the cadets began to hurdle the children far away from the bus, I watched as a figure slowly emerged from the bus door. It was a woman and in her arms was a smoking shotgun. She reminded me of the actress Sigourney Weaver with her brown hair piled up in a wispy bun atop her head. The flames from the bonfire brought out a redness in her hair that made her look beyond dangerous. Her thin lips were pressed tightly together in a crooked smile. Her features were sharp. Her taupe gloved hands gripped the shotgun tightly enough to wrinkle the fabric. As she took the last step from the bus, I saw work boots stick out from the long brown trench coat that she wore.

            “Audrey!” my best friend’s frantic cry pulled me away from the scene that had just started to unfold.

            “Brittany!” I cried back. My best friend was across the railroad tracks waving her arms as other kids pushed past her. I craned my neck, looking for my brother and sister. “Brian! Lainey!” I screamed. “Brian!”

            I heard a call come over a radio and looked back to where the officer lay in the grass. Blood oozed from between his fingers as he clutched the walkie talkie that was attached to his hip. He was mumbling something into it. The woman loomed over him. She aimed the shotgun right at his face and pulled the trigger. I almost threw up as the officer’s head seemed to explode in the grass. There was nothing left above his chin.

            “Audrey!” Brittany cried again. I felt her hand grab my arm and begin to pull me towards the Hudson River. I watched as kids began to jump into the cold water. Their skin began to pale and their lips quivered as they struggled to decided in which direction was the safest to swim. Others rushed passed us, running down the railroad tracks into the darkness of a patch of trees. I knew this area better than Brittany and yet she was the one leading me as we ran.

            “Audrey!” I heard the familiar voice of my sister. I looked behind me to see the petite blonde struggling to keep up with my best friend and me. Others pushed her forward through the crowd. “Brian!”

            I followed with my eyes in the direction that my sister was pointing. I could see Brian standing near the bonfire, directing some kids away from where the woman was walking with her shotgun. I wanted to scream his name, run to him, grab onto him and lead him away, but my mouth had gone dry and all I could do was watch as another figure stepped from the bus and raise his own gun into the crowd. Brian hit the pavement hard, blood dripping from the small bullet hole in the back of his head and splashing down over his eyelashes. I felt my stomach fly to my throat.

            We were in the trees now, the darkness of the night doubling as the leaves and branches cut off the light from the moon and stars. I could feel branches slapping across my face as we ran. I could hear kids crying and falling behind us. My pace was suddenly halted as a hand reached out and grabbed a good bit of my hair. I screamed as I flew back into a hard body, my scalp burning from the sudden change in direction.

            “Not so fast, sweetheart,” a man sneered. His breath was just awful, smelling of raw meat and prune juice. He wore a black leather jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. His hair was dark and slicked back with so much gel that I could see where each bristle had combed through. He looked like a poor imitation of Danny from the film Grease. With one hand squeezing my middle and the other wrapped around my mouth, he began to drag me back out of the trees.

            I saw Brittany stopped shortly after me by a tall, scrawny man. He wore jeans and a brown vest. His chest was boney, his stomach concaving a bit. His nose was bulbous and this lips were plump. He looked like a redneck hillbilly, not the type to normally reside in New York. He grabbed my best friend and started dragging her after the man who had a tight hold on me.

            “Wait! No!” my sister was screaming. Instead of running away from the men, she ran towards them. I could see the fear in her blue eyes, but it wasn’t the fear of the men but the fear of being alone now that my brother was dead, and my best friend and I were being taken away. I furrowed my brows as that was the only part of my face that wasn’t being covered by the man who held onto me. I couldn’t understand what my sister was doing. She was so stupid.

            Both men seemed to be just as confused. The one that held onto Brittany shrugged before grabbing my sister as well. Infuriated, I tried prying the man’s hands from off of me. I kicked and screamed, my heavy breathing making the man’s hand sweaty and salty against my lips. I tried thrashing about, but that only made his grip on me tighter. My eyelids grew lighter as we were pulled from the woods and I opened my eyes to see us nearing the bus. There were others being shoved inside. A plump red headed woman was using all of her weight to squeeze two boys through the doors. She then entered after them.

            The man who had a hold on me then pushed me up the steps. The man sitting at the wheel sent me a horrific smile. He had a bushy mustache that covered his upper lip. His hands were gripping the wheel tight. There was a timer sitting on the dashboard. It was counting down and there were about fifty-three seconds left. I assumed that that was all the time they had left allotted for themselves to do what they wanted before they had to be off the base.

            Brittany and my sister were pushed onto the bus after me. The two men that had brought us there ran back out among the mass of terrified teenagers. The bus driver turned in his seat to block the door, a gun resting leisurely against his knee.

            “Nuh uh,” he said as he noticed my eyes dart to the door. He shook the gun, signaling for us to take a seat.

            I looked towards the back of the bus where two figures were running. The fat redhead from before stood up from where she had been sitting in the last seat. She cocked the rifle in her hand. “Think again, you little s***s,” she hissed. The two figures begrudgingly sat back down. There were those who tried screaming, hitting the glass and trying to open the windows, but that unbecoming woman was watching them all. She wasn’t afraid to beat anyone who made a noise.

            I quietly slid into a seat by the window. My sister sat down beside me and pressed herself into my side. She bowed her head and I could feel her back shaking as she sniffled. I was upset at her for not running and therefore did not feel like trying to console her. Brittany looked at me with a sad look from across the aisle. Behind her I could see the aftermath of the chaos unfolding around the bonfire. The table of food had been knocked over. Glass shards from the punch bowl where scattered everywhere. An empty two litter bottle of Sprite was rolling across the pavement.

            I didn’t know how many of us were on the bus. I didn’t bother to watch who was being thrown down the aisle. But when the doors screeched shut and the bus lurched forward, I could tell that there had been many kids that were taken due to the numerous muffled sniffles that came from red eyes and wet noses. I kept my eyes out the window, eagerly looking for someone’s attention to grasp. I could hear sirens in the distance and for a brief moment my heart started to beat fast in anticipation of a rescue.

            The bus was headed towards the front gate that led into Highland Falls.  I could see the blue and red flashing lights of police cars headed in the opposite direction. They were headed down towards the dock, while the bus was headed away from there. I pressed my check against the window as the bus came to the front gate. There was a tall stone tower where the guards waited, checking the ID of every individual that entered the base and monitoring each car as it left. I knew the guard that was on duty tonight. His name was Mr. Green. He was a buff African American that my parents were friends with. My younger brothers played with his kids. We often had them over for dinner twice a month.

            As we neared the gate, I made eye contact with the man. His hands were shoved in his pockets and black earmuffs were resting over his bald head. My heart started to beat faster and faster. I wiggled in my seat, waving my hand frantically as we came into site. Mr. Green’s eyes bore into mine. And then he did the oddest thing. He looked away. He lowered his chin, his breath mixing in with the night air. He turned his back towards the bus as it exited the gates.

            My lips parted. My eyes began to water. A small, light noise escaped my throat. I sat back against the bus seat. I was confused and hurt. But for the oddest reason, I had yet to feel fear or anger. Instead, I just sat there, my mind running a mile a minute. My thoughts playing the “what if” game. The United States Military Academy's mission was to educate, train and inspire the Corps of Cadets so that each graduate was a commissioned leader of character committed to the values of Duty, Honor, Country and prepared for a career of professional excellence and service to the nation as an officer in the United States Army, and yet the entire base had just let an attack result in dozens of deaths and the kidnapping of those cadets and the children of those officers.