Free Day of Wrath by William R. Forstchen

forbidden but broke out anyway.
    “Oh God, Wendy, my baby,” Kathy gasped.
    The playground now looked like a war zone, which in fact it was. The camera swung across half a dozen small bodies sprawled in the yard, revealing red splotches, pools of blood, children crawling, a teacher crouching low and carrying a child. And then live, for all the nation to see, the teacher went limp, a puff, a mist of blood and clothing burst out of him, both he and the child going down. The camera began to zoom in but then pulled back, as if it were too horrific to be seen. The reaction was almost instinctive to not gaze too closely upon the horror, in the same way that cameras were finally turned away on 9/11 when, by the hundreds, bodies plunged down the faces of the north and south towers of the World Trade Center. But this time it was children who were dying.
    Kathy's phone rang. Bob! She almost dropped Shelly who was kicking and squirming, while sliding the screen of the phone on.
    No, it was not Bob's ring tone. It was her friend Mary Browning in Austin.
    “My God, Kathy! Are you guys okay?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know!”
    “I just saw on the news it was your school. What is going on?”
    “I don’t know, I just saw it too.”
    “They’re hitting a school in Austin. Not my son’s but I’m going to get him out now,” she cried, “They’re hitting every school in the country!”
    “Mary, I can’t talk, I’m going to get Wendy and Bob.”
    She clicked the phone off and ran out the door. She realized that she still had Shelly in her arms, who was kicking and sobbing.  
    She turned to her neighbor’s home. The Andersons? She didn’t know them well. They were an older couple, their kids were off to college and the mother Elizabeth apparently stayed at home, that was about all she knew of them. A car was in the driveway. She ran to the house, rang the doorbell, waited a few seconds, then abandoned social convention and tried the doorknob and burst in.  
    “Kathy? What in God’s name?”
    Elizabeth stood at the top of stairs, hair disheveled, wearing yoga pants and a tee shirt, and was obviously confused. She most likely was enjoying the luxury of a nap while the world was going insane.
    “Have you been watching the news?”
    “No,” and there was a slight edge of annoyance to her voice, “I was sleeping.”
    She descended the flight of stairs and was startled as Kathy stepped forward to try and hand off Shelly who was now worked up to a fever pitch of crying.
    “Take Shelly. Please, I've got to go. I've got to get to the school!”
    She literally shoved Shelly into Elizabeth’s arms so fiercely that the older woman actually did clutch the child.
    “Kathy, what is going on? Calm down.”
    “I can’t calm down! Watch Shelly, please, and turn on the news.”
    She turned and ran out the door, leaving it open, jumping into the SUV. She fumbled with her pockets, then cursed foully. The keys. She ran back into the house, leaving her front door open and grabbed her purse, opening it. The keys were within, and also the Ruger that was identical to Bob’s. She pushed the weapon into her pocket and as she did so she heard Shelly screaming nearby. Kathy turned to see Elizabeth entering the doorway, eyes going wide at the sight of Kathy pocketing the small weapon.
    “Merciful heavens, Kathy, are you going insane?” and Kathy could see the woman was actually afraid and even protectively clutching Shelly tight against her shoulder.
    “The world is insane…” she cried, pointing at the blaring television. She shouldered her way past Elizabeth and jumped into the car. Seconds later she was tearing down the driveway and was nearly T-boned by Denise Kilgore, another mother, whose only child was in first grade at McAuliffe Elementary school several blocks away from Chamberlain. All across the neighborhood, dozens of parents were getting into cars, tearing down driveways and office parking lots, and flooring it to