me. Please.” I held my hand out. His eyes widened, but he shook his head. No.
Cops were everywhere now. I could see five of them. If Charlie turned around, he’d see them scattered through the gym, guns raised. Any second, they’d rush the room.
Charlie slumped against the window and wiped sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his overcoat. The gun hung loosely in his hand. I sat beside him. Would he shoot me if I grabbed it?
“Sorry, miss.” He looked at Leslie. “I wish I’d stopped him sooner. But at least I’m stopping him now.” Charlie looked at me with glazed and somber eyes.
A voice called over the loudspeaker. “You, in the observation room. Charlie. This is Sergeant Bennings of the Philadelphia Police Department. You are surrounded by police officers. You have no way out. Put down your gun now and come out with your hands on your head.”
Charlie turned and gazed out the window, gun raised. “I told you—he’s closing in, miss. I’ll stay by your side and hold him off as long as I’m able, but you have to be on guard, too. Mind my words. Trust nobody.”
“Charlie, you have sixty seconds to release your hostages and come out of there peacefully.”
“Please, Charlie,” I said.
Leslie wailed. Susan gestured for me to move away. The rest of the mothers sat silent and still.
“Charlie, do what the man says,” I begged. “I’ll go out there with you. Please. We’ll go together.”
Susan came over and grabbed my arm. “Zoe. For godsakes move away from him.”
“No—it’s okay. Charlie and I are going to go out there together, right, Charlie?”
“They mean business, Zoe.”
“Charlie? Let’s go, okay?” I touched his shoulder and stood. “Zoe, I’m serious—move away—” “Just a second—”
“Dammit,” Susan scowled. She stood glaring at me while Charlie leaned forward, peering through the glass. He looked exhausted, pensive. Seconds passed, each one leaden, adding weight to the next. Thirty, forty. The room was silent. Motionless. The air too heavy to breathe.
When a minute had passed, Sergeant Bennings began to speak again, but Charlie shouted over him. “Okay—zero hour—here we go! Get down!” He raised the gun and fired at the window. Glass shattered, shards soaring.
“No!” I screamed. “Charlie—the children!” Susan pulled at my arm; I yanked it away and pulled at Charlie, trying to stop him. With surprising strength, he shoved me away. Behind me, women shrieked and dropped to the floor. Susan ducked; someone ran for the door. Charlie shouted obscenities and kept firing, popping two shots, three, until suddenly what remained of the window exploded in a glittering shower. A gush of red burst from Charlie’s hand and his gun flew through the air onto the floor. He turned to me with a look of surprise. His mouth opened, forming words I couldn’t hear, and his skull exploded. Brains, bone, blood, bits of Charlie flew all over the room. Warm, sticky spray splattered my clothes, my face, my eyes. I couldn’t see, squinted to find Molly through a warm, crimson veil.
On the floor, the mass that had been Charlie twitched awhile before it lay still. Susan led me to a chair. Then she was gone. Coach Gene stared from the doorway, his mouth moving, no sound coming out. Police in white jumpsuits shoved past him, clearing the room. Sometime, out of nowhere, Nick appeared, wrapped me in his arms, and carried me out. I saw events as a silent movie, heard no voices, no commotion, no cries. Long seconds passed before I realized that I’d been deafened by the gunfire, so I couldn’t hear any sounds at all, even my own screams.
THIRTY-NINE
POLICE CARS BLOCKED OFF OUR STREET, THEIR STROBES LIGHTing Charlie’s porch. Blue and white flashes pierced the night, outshining the Santa’s red and green. Police swarmed all around and inside Charlie’s house. Neighbors and passers-by gathered on the sidewalks. Jake must have been working late again; he lingered at the curb, talking with a policeman. Phillip Woods stood on his porch. Victor peered through his blinds; I actually saw his hands. I sat on my steps, watching, breathing on my fingers for warmth.
Inside, Karen, Davinder, and Gretchen watched the children. Ileana and Susan had left their kids with us while they went to the emergency room with Leslie and Coach Gene, who’d become hysterical after the shooting. The rest of us stayed together simply because we weren’t able to separate. We didn’t know, couldn’t imagine, how to return to the lives we’d left just that evening. Though nothing