Page 9 of Engulfing Emma

Becca crawls across the floor to where he’s thrown our things. She scavenges them, holding up her bounty.

The gunman looks at me impatiently. “Don’t just stand there, teacher. Go get them.”

I walk over to Becca and grab a small bottle of sanitizer and two full water bottles.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

“Hey, Goldilocks!” the guy shouts at her. “No fucking talking.”

I nod at her, pick the belt up off the ground, and return to the storage room. But not before I look at the faces of the other hostages. I wish I knew their names so I could tell Brett. Then again, it’s probably better if their families don’t know what’s going on. They can remain blissfully unaware that their loved ones are sitting ducks, ten feet from the wrong end of a gun.

My mother would be worried sick. I hope this isn’t all over the news. If they mention the name of the school, I’m sure twenty of her friends will call her to find out if I’m okay. And when she tries to call me and I don’t answer, she’ll know I’m not.Oh, God. To put her through this twice in one lifetime is more than any woman should have to face.

I’ve never been happier that Evelyn is far away at camp. I’m usually sad when she’s gone. And she’s gone for two whole weeks this time. She left just yesterday. I cried, of course. But now, my eyes well up with tears of relief. She’s not going to hear about this. And maybe if I can save Carter and we get out of this, she’ll be none the wiser.

Carter. I try to clear my head and focus on what I need to do. Everything hinges on my being able to save him.

I walk back into the storage room but turn around before the gunman can close the door. “Thank you,” I say.

His brows draw down. He’s confused as to why I’m thanking the guy pointing a gun at me.

“I’m Emma, by the way.” I gesture at the kid on the floor. “That’s Carter.” Maybe if he sees us as people, he’ll be less likely to hurt us. “I know this was an accident.”

I almost think he’s going to tell me his name, but instead, his icy demeanor returns. “You don’t know dick, teacher.”

He slams the door in my face.

I sink to the floor, bile rising in my throat. I breathe deeply and then crawl over to Carter, who doesn’t look as good as he did a few minutes ago. I touch his hand. It feels clammy. “Carter, are you still with me?”

He moans.

I glance back at the door, confirming it’s still shut before I pick up the phone. “Brett, are you there?”

“I’m here,” he says. “Good thinking with the water and hand sanitizer. And telling him your names—that was brilliant. He’s beginning to see you as more than just hostages.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know. You’re doing great. Do you have a belt?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Find the bullet wound. There may be two, an entrance and an exit wound. He won’t like it when you move his leg. He may even scream. But it’s important you do it.”

“Okay. Hold on.”

I sanitize my hands. Then I grab another shirt from lost and found and show it to Carter. “I’m going to put this in your mouth. I have to look at your leg and it might hurt. Bite down on the shirt. Scream into it if you have to. But we don’t want to give the guy out there a reason to come in here and see me on the phone. Do you understand?”

He nods.

“Here we go then.”

I push up his shorts. Blood trickles out of a hole two or three inches above his knee. I roll him onto his side and look for an exit wound. There is so much blood caked on the back of his leg, I can’t see much. I open a bottle of water and spill some on his leg, then carefully wipe the back of his thigh. This makes him scream into the shirt.

I quickly cover the receiver in case the gunman opens the door.

I roll Carter onto his back again and wait to make sure our captor doesn’t come in the room. When I’m convinced he won’t, I pick up the phone. “I only see one bullet hole just above his knee.”

“Good job. Now wrap the belt around his upper thigh a few inches above the wound. You’re going to have to pull it tight, tighter than you think it needs to be. If you can’t poke a notch in the belt to secure it, you’ll have to use something to tighten it. A metal ruler maybe. Slip the belt around it and turn it around and around like a corkscrew, tightening the belt to the leg.”

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