Imagine (A Short Story)

Imagine.

You're going to school, it's a normal day. Just like any other. Your teachers pass out homework, your classmates toss around jokes. You and your best friend gossip in the corner of the class.
  While you're in your 2nd period class, the fire alarm goes off. That's good, that means you won't have to take the math test you forgot to study for. You and your best friend link arms and scurry with the rest of the class outside to the safe spot.
  When the fire drill is over, you grab your things and head to third period. During third period, people are still goofing off, a bit more hyper than they were last period. There was a joke going around - someone took a picture of a kid in your grade wearing a trash bag, the picture was titled "LA trash dejour." You laugh along with them because that's what you're supposed to do. Later in class, the fire alarm goes off a second time that day. You're confused, why would they hold two drills in one day? You get up and start to walk out of class again when you hear it.
It was a gunshot.
  Then the screaming starts.
Kids hit the ground like their lives depend on it, which it does. There's dust in the air from bullets crashing through the walls. There's a pool of red a few feet away, someone laying face down on the ground. Amy. You try to scoot forward to check her pulse. She's alive for now.. But unconscious.
There is more gun shots and more screaming, crying. Your teacher is calling the police but he is just as freaked out as everyone else. You hear footsteps from where you're laying on the floor, trying to staunch the bleeding on Amy's shoulder. The door. No one locked the damned door.  The door starts to open..
Your gym teacher pokes his head in and tells everyone to follow him, to the auditorium. You'll be safe there. Everyone runs out of the room down the hall as fast as they can. Even your teacher. But not you. You need to stay with Amy. If you leave, she will surely die.
Unsurprisingly, as everyone rushes to leave, no one notices you laying on the floor in the back of the room, holding your jacket against Amy's shoulder desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from her shoulder. So you sit alone in the classroom with a wounded girl.
  Using one hand to apply pressure to her wound, you pull out your phone to text your mom.

Jake: Mom, I'm so so sorry. I love you so much. I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again.

She replies a split second later.

Mom: Jake?? What's wrong?! I love you too baby.

Tears well in your eyes as you put your phone away. You don't have the strength to text back. The gun shots continue, surprisingly its only been five minutes. But that could mean any number of lives. 
  You can hear the screams from where you lay, screams of pain. Fear. Screams of loss. You realize something then. If you live through this? You will never be the same. You wont be able to go to school here, wont be able to go hunting with your dad anymore. Won't be able to get the color of the blood on your hands out of your head..
  You also know that you have no way of knowing if anyone you care about at this school is OK. For all you know, they died. It seems impossible to survive through this terror. You were lucky to be alive so far.
  Your heads a jumbled mess, you can't think. You can't move. If you take pressure off her wound for an instant, the blood will drain more heavily from her body and she will surely die. Your so frustrated and scared and agonized that you start to cry. You feel so helpless. There's nothing you can do. If you move she'll die, if the shooter come in the room, you'll die. If you die, she dies.
  You never thought you'd be responsible for another persons life. Not at this age. Your barely 17. But you know the consequences of not trying. The regret. The guilt. It'd be unbearable. You try to pull out your phone again, not for your mom. As you log in with one hand, you try to ignore the messages and calls piling up from your mother. You call 911.
  "This is 911, what's your emergency?" The operator says.
You want to scream and shout so badly but when you speak, you sound calm. Only the slightest bit shaky.
  "There's a shooter at my school and a classmate of mine got hit, I can't move to run with everyone because if I take pressure off her shoulder, she'll die. I'm the only one left in the room besides her. She's unconscious. She needs help, we need help.. I need help.." You finish, talking lowly. The operators side of the phone goes quiet. After a few seconds she answer again.
  "Your Douglas Highschool?" She asks.
You nod before remembering she can't see you.
"Yes." You whisper.
The operator sounds shaken when she replies again.
"The police force and medical team are already there. I don't know how long it'll be before they can reach you. What room are you in?" She asks. You think for a second. You can't remember the actual room you were in. Was it 5th period? Maybe 2nd? You look around and then shake your head.
"I'm in room 206. Please try to send them my way? I don't know how long she has."
The operator starts talking the second you stop. But you can't hear what she's saying. What you do hear is the helicopter flying above your school, the sirens. You realize then that you cant hear the gun anymore. You might actually make it.
  The sounds of the world drone out as you look down at Amy. She's so pale.. Her heart is still beating though. You can hear it, almost like you were listening to a radio tuned to her specifically.  You can almost hear her voice. The laughter, the airy jokes. See her smile. You never really spoke to her before, but now, her life depends on you.
  There's a crashing sound, causing you to drop your phone. The call ends. You turn your head to look at the door. Footsteps again. Getting louder, so much louder. Many footsteps. Wheels. There is a pounding sound. You realize that's your heartbeat. The door slams open and a bunch of men in uniforms swarm in. They are all holding guns and two are wheeling a gurney. They see you almost immediately and run to the back of the room.
That was fast..
"You need to help her.. Please." You whisper as they reach you. You wonder what you must look like to them, hands and arms covered in blood, bloody phone on the floor next to you, tearstained cheeks. But now? You don't care. All that matters is the girl on the floor next to you.
The man in the uniform closest to you nods his head and replaces your hands with his as he puts her on the gurney. Another starts talking to his radio
"I have two kids here, one girl one boy, girl is injured, major blood loss. Bullet wound in the shoulder. Critical. Sending the boy your way with Cane."
  The man who must be 'Cane' came forward and told you to hold your arms out. As you raise them he frisks you, nods, and leads you from the room.
  Cane takes you outside and sits you down next to an ambulance where you watch Amy being loaded up and taken away. You sit on the curb with your head in your hands and wait.
  Maybe it was a few seconds, maybe minutes. Hours. Even days. When you lift your head again, there's more ambulances, injured people being loaded into them. Body bags.
Body bags.
Someone died. Several someone's. You feel the tears again and do nothing to stop them. After awhile you rub your cheeks and look down at your hands. There's blood on them. And on your shirt. And your pants. Your shoes. You really liked your shoes but that doesn't matter anymore. People died today. People you knew. People you saw around.
  Eventually an officer comes and leads you to a group of people in your grade. Everyone is crying but your the only one with blood on you. They all know you. But you can't see their individual faces. Can't make out the details past the tears pouring down your face. You hug all of them, so grateful they made it, not caring who they were or what problems you had with them in the past. It didn't matter. They were alive.
  When you calm down enough that you aren't crying anymore you start seeing the actual faces of people. But there's several missing.. There's no way to tell how many people died or were injured, especially with everyone gathered so close. For now.. You would just be grateful you lived.
  Sitting back down on a different curb, you start to imagine. Imagine life before..