Simunitions

It was chaos in the best way possible. People scrambled from their assignments to their designated places, carrying bags of fake blood and adorned in stage makeup that rivaled very real, very gruesome injuries. Sure, there was a distinct difference between those volunteering and those being trained but the overall excitement was palpable to say the least. The assigned dead men took their respective poses; victims and witnesses competing to give the most convincing performance; the first responders in training fidgeting nervously at their stations.

Slowly, the excited chatter settled down as the situation set in. It was pretend, but that didn’t make it less serious. It was training, but the idea of an active shooter started to weigh on everyone’s mind. I watched one by one as volunteers’ faces drop into concentration.

“Range is live.”

The voice echoed over the range and the momentum picked up instantly. Somewhere within the building behind me, a woman gave out a blood curdling scream. Simunitions fired. Muffled words rebounding off the walls. Volunteers were rushing out of the building, some spurting fake blood and others assisting those “too wounded” to help themselves.

The first responders came on the scene.

“Miss, did you see what happened?” A man in uniform compelled.

We went through training for this. I glanced down at my notecard and recited the words, “No, I was just leaving class and I heard gunshots. But, please, my sister is in there!”

The words felt silly on my tongue, but the officer nodded.

“Alright, ma’am, we’ll get her back to you.”

Without another word, he joined a group of other officers and rushed in the building. More simunitions fired. More screams. I grinned. Never in a million years did I imagine I could be part of something that awesome.

More people filtered out of the building and more responders filtered in. Paramedics arrive, tending to the over dramatic injuries. Organized chaos. More simunitions. I laid on the cool ground, my job for this wave of “attacks” officially over.

            “Out of role! Everyone, holster your weapons!”

            The shouts echoed throughout the training facility with almost the same effect as gun fire. The first responders stood in place as their commanders rushed around them, frantically speaking to the leading officer that shouted the warning beyond the range. Simunitions were holstered in an instant while the volunteers and trainees alike held their ground, momentarily forgetting what they were doing there. I tried to keep my eyes shut. Whatever was happening wasn’t part of the training exercises"at least, not the ones I had participated in before. Rushes of cool air pushed past me as the silent seconds drew longer and longer. Nobody dared to move, much less ask what was going on. Murmurs started buzzing across the unmoving range from the leading group of officers.

            The whispers around me wouldn’t dare to be louder than a pen drop. The make-believe victims of this mass murder quietly awaited to hear what had prompted our abrupt pause. Something about an officer forgetting to trade his weapon in for the simunition; an officer who was supposed to be shooting blanks at the practice active shooter.

This isn’t a drill anymore.

Silence followed the wave of the rumor passing over my seemingly unconscious body, still straining to keep my eyes shut. Moments pass with no sound other than the less frantic footsteps of the commanding officers walking back toward the origin of the shouts.

And something fired.