The man and the woman slowly approached, shoes squeaking ominously on the cold tiles. I found Jesse's wrist and squeezed it. He silently shifted and squeezed my hand. To save the both of us from an awkward moment, he held my hand the way one would while in a group prayer. I opened my mouth the slightest bit so as to not make any noise breathing through my nose. The hallway doors had shut just a few long moments prior to now. The two people walked slowly until they were directly in front of us, which is where they stopped walking. 

"I think I heard something." A woman's voice rang through the hall. Either she's a singer or I'm scared, because her voice was piercing. Whether it was delightful or terrifying, I couldn't tell. 

"No, I didn't hear anything." A man said. I heard the gun shift in his hand. I hardly stifled a shudder when I heard the metal parts rub together. While I was almost certain that the gun was of the smaller kind, my face was still white with panic. Either way, a gun is a gun. 

"No, Luke, I swear I heard something!" The woman said, standing perfectly still. If it wasn't for her voice, I would not have been able to figure out where she was. But unfortunately, I can only hold my breath for so long. So, I slowly took in more air and tediously released the lungful.

"You are ridiculous!" Luke said in obvious annoyance. "What kind of high-school creeper hangs out in a dark hallway during a football game?"

At that, Jesse took up my hand and began spelling words on my palm.

Shoes off.

Despite the tight circumstance and speed at which he was tracing the letters, I understood perfectly. He wanted me to take my shoes off because socks are nearly silent on slippery floors. My remaining logic and understanding of social cues—Jesse was gripping my hand tightly, which was odd because he is typically so gentle with items he entrusts his hands with. I carefully untied the laces and slowly slid my feet out of my boots, trying my hardest to keep the black leather silent as it shifted. I was so focused on being silent that I did not notice Jesse standing up and slowly walking in front of the shooters, who were blind in the suffocating darkness.

"I hope those are Nerf guns," Jesse said. His voice was lacking the goofy quality that it had possessed just ten minutes prior. I stood up, making no noise. The two people were frozen in shock. I heard Jesse lightly tap his foot to the ground in a peculiar sequence, almost as though he was trying to communicate with me through Morse Code. Because he was. I recalled the year Kevin and I memorized the code. Jesse was telling me to run. I followed his orders and began to make my escape, hurriedly slinking along the wall  towards the door.

When I turned back to see if Jesse was following me, I watched as he shook his phone and turned the flashlight on. The two looked light a deer stuck by headlights. Jesse snapped a picture of them. His eyes did not leave the people when he spoke to me, voice ringing out in chilling seriousness, "you need to run."

Jesse shook his flashlight off, and I took that window of opportunity T instant the sound of my feet lightly hitting the tile, the two snapped out of it. I heard one of them fire their gun and felt a bullet zip past my shoulder, which was accompanied by a sharp burn where I thought I had dodged it. I bolted out of the building and stood around the corner from the door. I quickly pulled my phone out of my back-pack and dialed the police. It rang only once before somebody picked up.

"Flagstaff Sheriff's Department. My name is Delilah, what is your emergency?" A woman's voice said from the other line.

"I saw two people with guns at my school." I told her. "It's a football game and they went into the building I was in."

"What is your location?" Delilah asked urgently.

"Garvin High-School." I said, listening closely for the sound of a gunshot, which could be fatal to Jesse. "I think it's just me and my friend who know that they're here."

"What is your name?" She asked.

"Whitney Fisher." I said quickly. "My friend—Jesse Tuck— is still in there with them."

"She's still in the building?" Delilah said, shocked.

"Yes, he started talking to them and got a photo." I said.

"Okay, Whitney, police will he there in just a minute." She told me. "Can you stay on the line?"

"Yeah." I said with a nod. Eventually, the police arrived. People were rushed out of campus as officers surrounded the building that Jesse and the shooters were in. He was brought out and ushered near where I was. Cops swarmed the inside of the building. Jesse was forced to sit on the ground with me, where a doctor checked him out.

"Can you please remove your shirt?" The doctor asked, kneeling down beside him. I had already been looked over. I was relieved that I was not asked to remove my own shirt. Unfortunately, since our shirts were black, there was no indication to anybody else that I had been struck by a bullet. It had only skimmed the top of my shoulder, so it wasn't dangerous in any way, but I could feel a slow trickle of blood down my back.

"I am fine!" Jesse insisted.

"Jesse, my name is Dr. Gavin Quinn. I am asked you to take your shirt off because I need to make sure you're not in any serious danger." The doctor told him impatiently. "Believe me, I want to be here even less than you do." Jesse sighed in contempt and took off his shirt, revealing what looked to be cuts. "Interesting. It doesn't look like any of them went through. I don't think you'll need stitches, but I still have to get both of you to the hospital."

"Really?" My eyes widened. "Do I have to as well?" 

"You both are victims of a school shooting." Dr. Quinn explained slowly. "We need to make sure you're both 100% good."

"I'm fine." I said with a shrug.

"We don't know that yet." Dr. Quinn glanced at me. "Neither of you seem badly hurt, so there's no need for the extra expense of an ambulance." 'Seem' is a fun word.

"My mother is seeing a movie with Charlie." I said to Jesse, making eye contact with him just after he pulled his shirt back over his head.

"I'll call Miles so he can drive us." Jesse said as he pulled his phone out to shoot his brother a text.

"Flagstaff Mulgone Hospital." Dr. Quinn told him. Jesse nodded and added the location in a separate message.

"He's on his way." He said, standing up from the grass he had previously been sitting on. I stood up as well, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. "But more importantly, they shot at you too. Did any of the bullets get you?"

"Yeah." I nodded, smiling. I'm one of the people that laugh when they're uncomfortable. When his hazel eyes widened, I pulled on the collar of my shirt to expose the bloody mark that the bullet had left.

"Why didn't you tell the doctor?" Jesse demanded, examining it.

"He was just a paramedic!" I said indignantly. This conversation had been hushed and turned away from Dr. Quinn, so he was completely unaware. 

"That's true." Jesse said, pulling the collar of my shirt back  up begrudgingly. "They'll look at you when we get to the hospital." The two of us then turned back to where Dr. Quinn, who was talking to an officer. "Why can't we ride with you in a police car or something?"

"Sorry kid, it's against protocol." Quinn told Jesse with a sigh. "Albeit, a really stupid protocol."

"How did you get here?" I asked, brows furrowed. 

"My sister drive me. Doctor Quinn and Officer Quinn." Dr. Quinn angled his head towards the building the police were still in. "You guys should probably expect an email from the department, they're going to want to know what they look like if they're not found in there."