themselves. Nobody expected it to get to this point. But we can’t stop the students from talking about what they want to, nor would we want to stop them from talking.”
“Talking!” the man says. “They were doing more than—”
“I’m sorry,” Washington cuts in. “One question per person.”
The woman behind him in line begins arguing with him, but I can’t hear what they’re saying because they’re away from the microphone. Finally, she shoves him aside and steps up to the microphone and says, “How was this blasphemy allowed to go on for so long?” and there’s cheers from the crowd then boos and then more cheers.
The guy is still trying to pull the microphone away from her as Washington says, “It’s not our job to decide what is and isn’t blasphemy.”
She says, “But—”
Washington says, “One question per person, please. Please give the microphone to the next person in line.”
She angrily hands the microphone over to the next guy, still fighting off the first guy. He takes it and says, “As far as I can tell, all you’ve done is made the situation worse and worse. How are you going to resolve this?”
Washington says, “The school board is working on a new set of guidelines regarding religious conduct within the school…”
I raise my hand.
Washington turns and says, “Yes?”
The crowd hushes.
I pull my microphone free and I stand up.
I say, “I am—”
There’s a gunshot and it all goes da—
Chapter 42
MRR
MRR
MRR
My eyes open.
All I see is white.
MRR
MRR
MRR
How did I get here? Where did I go to sleep?
MRR
What time is it? What day is it?
MRR
MRR
I’m in a white room, wearing a white robe, lying on a white sheet, on a white bed.
MRR
MRR
MRR
I feel good, in a way I’ve never felt good before.
MRR
MRR
MRR
MRR
I turn my head for the beeping. It hurts, but I don’t care. It’s novel.
A black screen. With a green line moving across it in a jagged pattern. I’ve seen this before. I’ve been here before. This is a heart monitor.
MRR
Hospital.
MRR
I’m in the hospital.
MRR
In the chair below the heart monitor there’s a refolded newspaper. I reach over and pick it up.
legally dead for fifteen minutes. Thousands of people nationwide have declared themselves followers of Mr. Kadur following the shooting. Many have traveled to Seattle, surrounding the hospital while they await his
I let the paper fall and it drops to the floor.
MRR
MRR
I look down at myself. Wires run from my chest to the heart monitor and tubes run out of my arms.
MRR
MRR
I pull off the wires.
MRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
I grab a tube and pull on it. The tape tears at my skin and a needle slides out, leaving a drop of blood. I grab the next and pull it out. And the last.
I’m not feeling good any more.
I feel bad.
I breathe in, stabbing pain, and I breathe out, stabbing pain.
I pull aside my robe, revealing white bandages and tape around my chest.
I touch it and there’s a shock of pain.
It subsides slowly and dully.
Sit up, but I can’t. I pull off the sheets. I grab ahold of my left leg with my left hand and the bed with my right hand and shove my legs over the side of the bed.
I push myself slowly off, lowering my feet to the floor. It’s cold.
I push my butt off the bed and put my weight on my legs and they buckle. I fall into a crouch and hang onto the bed and the table next to it.
I push myself up. My legs steady and I let go with my hands. I stagger for the door, grab onto the handle, support myself with it as I pull it open.
Across the hall, the nurse is at her desk, focused on her computer. There’s an exit sign over a stairwell door.
I stagger down the hall, hands pressing against the wall for support. I reach the stairwell door, open it, and go in.
I climb the stairs, my hands on both railings, pulling myself up.
I look at
“Talking!” the man says. “They were doing more than—”
“I’m sorry,” Washington cuts in. “One question per person.”
The woman behind him in line begins arguing with him, but I can’t hear what they’re saying because they’re away from the microphone. Finally, she shoves him aside and steps up to the microphone and says, “How was this blasphemy allowed to go on for so long?” and there’s cheers from the crowd then boos and then more cheers.
The guy is still trying to pull the microphone away from her as Washington says, “It’s not our job to decide what is and isn’t blasphemy.”
She says, “But—”
Washington says, “One question per person, please. Please give the microphone to the next person in line.”
She angrily hands the microphone over to the next guy, still fighting off the first guy. He takes it and says, “As far as I can tell, all you’ve done is made the situation worse and worse. How are you going to resolve this?”
Washington says, “The school board is working on a new set of guidelines regarding religious conduct within the school…”
I raise my hand.
Washington turns and says, “Yes?”
The crowd hushes.
I pull my microphone free and I stand up.
I say, “I am—”
There’s a gunshot and it all goes da—
Chapter 42
MRR
MRR
MRR
My eyes open.
All I see is white.
MRR
MRR
MRR
How did I get here? Where did I go to sleep?
MRR
What time is it? What day is it?
MRR
MRR
I’m in a white room, wearing a white robe, lying on a white sheet, on a white bed.
MRR
MRR
MRR
I feel good, in a way I’ve never felt good before.
MRR
MRR
MRR
MRR
I turn my head for the beeping. It hurts, but I don’t care. It’s novel.
A black screen. With a green line moving across it in a jagged pattern. I’ve seen this before. I’ve been here before. This is a heart monitor.
MRR
Hospital.
MRR
I’m in the hospital.
MRR
In the chair below the heart monitor there’s a refolded newspaper. I reach over and pick it up.
legally dead for fifteen minutes. Thousands of people nationwide have declared themselves followers of Mr. Kadur following the shooting. Many have traveled to Seattle, surrounding the hospital while they await his
I let the paper fall and it drops to the floor.
MRR
MRR
I look down at myself. Wires run from my chest to the heart monitor and tubes run out of my arms.
MRR
MRR
I pull off the wires.
MRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
I grab a tube and pull on it. The tape tears at my skin and a needle slides out, leaving a drop of blood. I grab the next and pull it out. And the last.
I’m not feeling good any more.
I feel bad.
I breathe in, stabbing pain, and I breathe out, stabbing pain.
I pull aside my robe, revealing white bandages and tape around my chest.
I touch it and there’s a shock of pain.
It subsides slowly and dully.
Sit up, but I can’t. I pull off the sheets. I grab ahold of my left leg with my left hand and the bed with my right hand and shove my legs over the side of the bed.
I push myself slowly off, lowering my feet to the floor. It’s cold.
I push my butt off the bed and put my weight on my legs and they buckle. I fall into a crouch and hang onto the bed and the table next to it.
I push myself up. My legs steady and I let go with my hands. I stagger for the door, grab onto the handle, support myself with it as I pull it open.
Across the hall, the nurse is at her desk, focused on her computer. There’s an exit sign over a stairwell door.
I stagger down the hall, hands pressing against the wall for support. I reach the stairwell door, open it, and go in.
I climb the stairs, my hands on both railings, pulling myself up.
I look at
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