Free The Survivor by Sean Slater Page A

Ran and hid. Did pretty much what you would expect someone to do with a gunman rampaging through the halls. They can’t tell us anything we don’t already know. And believe me, I’ve been over it a dozen times with each one of them.’
    ‘What about their parents? We gotten a hold of any of them yet?’
    Morningstar stopped walking, offered up a hard look.
    ‘I got a hundred people calling for info,’ he said, ‘and we’ve had over sixty moms and dads show up, freaking out, wanting to know where their kids are.’ The muscles behind the pink shades twitched. ‘We got over three hundred kids in this school, which translates into damn near six hundred parents. Laroche keeps directing them to me, and I got nothing to tell them. We haven’t even completed the list of the dead. Got kids sent to every damn hospital from here to New Westminster, and I don’t even know which kids are where.’
    ‘I’ll help you with it.’
    Morningstar shook his head. ‘Got Patrol for that. You just catch this whack job and bring him in, preferably dead.’
    Striker said nothing.
    They stopped outside the entrance to the teacher’s lounge, where another patrol officer stood guard. Striker stepped closer to the cop, a tall white guy with scruffy facial skin – he clearly hadn’t had time to shave and shower before getting the mandatory Call Out – and peered through the small window in the door.
    Standing at the far end of the room, her head down, her posture so still she looked like a part of the furniture, was a young Asian girl. Thin build, small face. Too much make-up smeared around her eyes, a lot of which had drizzled down her face from the tears. She was maybe fourteen.
    Striker turned back to Morningstar. ‘Who is she?’
    ‘Name’s Megan Ling. And she’s a survivor. She tried to help the others. She’s seen a lot – and she’s pretty fucked up.’
    ‘Where’s her parents?’
    ‘Mother’s already on the way down.’
    Striker nodded. ‘Felicia will be back soon enough,’ he said. ‘Hook her and the mother up, will you?’
    ‘Done.’
    Striker looked back through the window. Megan Ling hadn’t budged. He gave the patrolman a nod to move out of his way. When Striker started through the door, Morningstar put his hand flat against Striker’s chest.
    Striker turned, gave him a questioning look. ‘What?’
    ‘Brace yourself for this one.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘You’re not gonna like what she has to say.’

 
    Fifteen
    Courtney and Raine walked southward through the mall. Earlier in the day, both had dumped their St Patrick’s school uniform in their locker before getting into their usual attire – white Capris and a red half-top for Raine; standard blue jeans and a white v-neck for Courtney.
    They stopped near an aisle kiosk. Raine pulled out her phone, tried to call someone, got no answer, then hung up.
    Courtney’s face lit up when she saw the cell. ‘You got an iPhone ?’
    Raine raised an eyebrow. ‘Like, so totally not. My mom got pissed my minutes were over, so she put me on a shitty prepaid plan. Now my minutes run out, like, the first week of every month. So I got to use this one for the rest.’
    ‘But how’d you get that?’
    ‘It’s not mine, it’s a friend’s. Here, I’ll put the number in your phone.’
    Courtney felt suspicion rise in her chest. ‘What friend?’
    ‘Oh my Gaaawd, look at those things.’ Raine gave Courtney back her phone then ran up to the aisle kiosk, grabbed a pair of earrings and held them up. ‘These will go perfect with my nurse costume!’
    Courtney just nodded. Across the way from them, a group of twenty or more people huddled and murmured near the television sets at the Sony store. The news was on. The group made a collective shocked sound.
    ‘Something must be happening,’ Courtney said.
    Raine shrugged and tried on the earrings. ‘Something’s always happening around here. It’s Vancouver, Court. How do these earrings look? Hot?’
    Courtney looked.