From: aa811@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Terri M. Librande) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: As It Fell Upon A Day: Part 11 Date: 31 Jan 1993 13:28:21 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA) Lines: 211 Message-ID: <1kgk5lINNmdm@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu Dr. Barry's students decided to go with the plan to observe, thinking it was just another rally. There was nothing left of the lesson plan Sam had slapped together, and he'd said what he'd wanted. He felt helpless now. When the bell rang at 11:45, it was a relief. Soon it would all be over. He left his books at the desk and followed the students out. They kept close together as they headed toward the athletic field, as Al had suggested. The Freedom Bell, utilized normally for pep rallies and the like, was being rang by a student, calling others to assemble. The area near Taylor Hall was already crowded. The west side of Blanket Hill, across from the troops, took on a surreal quality for Sam, seeming more like a gathering at a sporting event than a prelude to a disaster. Everyone was shouting, and none of it made sense. As they gathered in the field, Sam counted heads. Out of his thirty-six kids, twenty were left here with him. Hundreds of students were assembled under Blanket Hill, waiting for the rally to begin. He noticed also that many students just hurried along, between classes, going to lunch or whatever, before the afternoon session. Even now, in this chaos, life went on. Sam tried hard to convince himself that this had been his concept of 'leaping' all along. To observe historical events, tragic events, in the history that was available to him. Fear choked him now, not knowing what to do or why he was here. It was obvious that he couldn't stop the situation around him. Time marched on and over him. Al was suddenly at his elbow. "We found the original history, Sam!" He sounded elated. "When Dr. Barry disappeared after Kent State, he never appeared anywhere again. Ziggy says he never returned, not even to pack his stuff. His landlady reported him as missing, which started rumors that he was a fifth shooting victim that the government was covering up. We have no current data on him!" "What could have happened to him, Al?" The Observer shrugged. "What we theorize is that when Barry cut and ran some of the kids had their support shoved out from under them. He might have felt he'd goaded the kids into the incident. He couldn't handle his guilt, and the kids didn't come to terms with theirs." "Big help, Al," Sam said out of the side of his mouth. "I'd figured most of that." "That's not all, Sam. While Barry encouraged the kids to demonstrate, with that lecture you may have changed some minds. If you can keep him here, give him a reason to stay, like holding this bunch of students together, he'll achieve tenure and remain at Kent the rest of his teaching career." "Where was Dr. Barry when the firing started?" Al wrinkled his brow as the information scrolled across the screen. He needed glasses and refused to where them. "According to Ziggy, some students saw him running toward the parking lot." His expression was dark with worry as he looked up from the display. "That's where a lot of the kids bought it." "And we're in the field--away from the parking lot." With some sense of relief, Sam turned back to his students. A couple of the girls and Artie were standing as close to him as they could, trying not to look frightened. "They're loading gas, Prof." Artie's voice took on a hard tone. "They'll shoot it toward the Hill, won't they?" The cannisters were fired--it seemed hundreds of them--but the smoke blew away from teh students and toward the Guard. In the parking lot, a cheer went up, until they realized the gas was headed towards them. From the line of kids in front and in back of them, Sam knew they didn't have space to run, if they had to move fast. Glancing at his watch, Sam noted the time. 12:24. A second later, the first shots rang out. "What the hell are they firing?" Artie strained to watch the troops shoot. Smoke was rising from their position on the Hill. "Blanks?" With cold certainty, Sam knew Artie was wrong. Screams split the shouting, the chaos. A mass of humanity was running for cover, any cover. At the first crack of rifle fire, Sam had followed the instinct to drop. The blond girl from his group was a few feet in front of him, screaming in blind panic. Inching his way over to her, he pulled her to the ground and held her until the sound of weapon fire stopped. Artie was on the grass next to Sam, his face an expression of stunned disbelief. Helping them up, he looked back toward the parking lot. A crowd was gathering there, not more than five hundred feet away. It was as if time had slowed and suddenly silenced the screams. Feeling numb, he checked Artie and the girl. She seemed to have recovered, her gaze stunned and wide, turning her face to the professor. "They shot us." Her voice was small and empty. Sam held her close for a moment, then felt he was needed elsewhere, with the injured and dying. He glanced at Artie. Reaching over, he took the boy's hand and the three hurried across the field to the parking lot to assist the wounded. Sam couldn't tell where to start. It was obvious the moment he saw the carnage that he was in the middle of the target area. One girl had no throat. A pool of blood grew beneath her unconscious body. There was one boy lying as if dead. He, too, had been shot. All Sam could do was make him comfortable and urge the students not to move him. If the ambulances arrived in time he might live, but from the nature of the wound, he'd probably be paralyzed for life. Kneeling by the wounded boy, Sam felt cloth pushed into his hand. Artie was at his elbow tearing his t-shirt into strips. Together, they wrapped the boy with the makeshift bandage and stabilized him until help could come. Artie and Sam exchanged tight grins as they tied the last of the cloth. His bleeding had stopped. "Stay with him, Artie," Sam said, pushing up from the ground. He offered a backwards glance toward Al and found he was right at his shoulder. His face was blank with grief, fresh and bright. "This is like a war zone," he heard Al mutter. Sam knelt next to another kid, a young man with a shoulder wound. Beneath Sam's hands, he was quiet, not crying out as his injury was treated. "It is a war zone, Al." Blood streaked the scientist's hands and face as he held a pad over the shoulder; the boy was passing out. In the distance he couuldChear the sound of sirens. Would the student allow the ambulances to get through? Would they arrive too late? "Aw, Sam." Al looked confused, wandering through the people hurrying around him. It was like the battle of Do Chi, but this one had been fought on American soil. He watched as Sam shook his head, giving the boy up to the attendants. Half-crounched on the ground, tears streaking down his face, Sam looked pretty messed up. "Kid?" Al leaned down to try to make his friend hear him. "We'll leave soon. Any minute you'll leap." Al had never seen such vulnerability on Sam Beckett's face before. His partner had never been one to hide his emotions. "Leaping won't help me forget this." Sam locked gazes with his friend for a moment, then went to help more wounded. The injured and dying were taken away and Sam still hadn't leaped. The campus was being systematically cleared and it was quiet, even with the crowd that was gathered. Sam was in the midst of it, blood staining nearly every bit of clothing and exposed skin. He felt numb. The touch of a hand on his shoulder made his head come up. It was Artie. And the others in his class. Somehow, they had found him. "What do we do now, Dr. Barry?" Artie's voice was as dead as Sam felt. He was covered in blood, too, from assisting the injured. "You did good, Artie. Maybe it's your calling." He had to grin at the look that crossed the boy's face. "That's it, Sam." Al gestured with the link. " "Artie goes on to medical school. Not that he finishes it, but he becomes an emergency medical technician, and a good one, too." Sam glanced down at his hands and fingernails. Blood, dark and drying. The faces of the students around him were expectant, hoping he had all the answers. What could he tell these people? That 'THEY' had won? Give them another lecture? Pulling as many as he could into his arms, Sam held the students close. Touch, not words, was what would help them heal. And time. He knew Dr. Barry better now. The kids were clinging to him, frightened, and willing for his comfort. That was why the professor was staying this time--to help them through this, each of them, including Artie who was headed toward a better future. After the ones living on campus had collected their things, the group headed toward the Triumph. They couldn't bring much, leaving most of teh their possesions to be picked up later. The Guard was clearing off everyone. Sam managed to stuff four students and their luggage into the little car. Al was standing alone by the driver's side as they arrived, looking fairly shaken. Sam glanced at his friend. There was more of an understanding in his eyes now, a feeling of relief that it was over, and something else he couldn't fathom. "You gonna be okay?" Al asked. "I think so." Sam grinned. His heart wasn't in it. "Dr. Barry will be okay, too, I think. According to Ziggy he stays at Kent and helps the kids traumatized by the murders. He's still teaching and crisis counselling for the school." Sam glanced back as the kids settled in the Triumph, his hand on the car door. They were too busy talking among themselves to notice much else. "How is he going to understand what happened today if he wasn't here to witness it?" "He'll know. And, with these kids around, he'll learn to accept it. The kids do okay, too." Al's voice reflected the grief in his eyes. Sam got in the car and turned the engine over. It was a bit cramped ion the front, even with the top of the car down. He twisted around to adjust the side mirror. It was off-kilter, and as he turned it into position, his eyes widened in shock. There was a bullet hole, neatly centered. It had travelled through the mirror and away. His last thought, before he leaped, was wondering what Dr. Barry's reaction would be when he saw it. He sensed he materialized in familiar territory. It gave him a sense of peace, even with his eyes closed. And the smell--an aroma, like a deep part of himself coming through--a memory. "October. No, November!" His eyes took in the golden glory around him. Seed corn. //And where there's seed corn--there's pheasants!// The End -- "Unscrupulous--but effective!" Al in "Starcrossed" Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu Assistant Sysop The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI