Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

We were about six feet from the bus door now, and the last few reporters in our way were starting to back up.

“Danny, wait!” JoBell was halfway through the crowd now. A photographer held up his comm with a special camera unit attached. Without looking, he elbowed JoBell to get a better shot. “Hey, watch it!” she said. Then she tripped or someone knocked into her and she fell down into the mass of bodies.

“JoBell!” I called.

“I got you!” Becca shouted, ducking down after her.

I leaned close to Sweeney and spoke quietly. “I have to get her out of there.”

“Get on the bus,” he said. “We’ll get her.”

“No way, man. This is my responsibility.” I pushed through the line of our guys and rushed toward JoBell. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” I tried to wedge my way through the press.

A man with short, ragged red hair and the scraggly beginnings of a beard shoved people to the side. A couple reporters fell to the ground. A big camera broke on the cement, but the guy had made an opening. JoBell and Becca stood and ran through it to reach me.

“Thanks,” I said to the redhead, already moving to the bus with both arms around the girls.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust and pushed me back into my guys. JoBell screamed. I risked a look to make sure she was okay. “Get on the bus!” I shouted. She shook her head and tried to stay with me. “Sweeney, get her out of here.”

“Come on, Jo.” Becca took her arm and pulled her onto the bus.

The redhead reached inside his light jacket. “Hey, Wright! This is for Allison!” He pulled out a.38 snub-nosed revolver.

“Gun!” Sweeney shouted. He pushed me past our linemen onto the steps in the bus. Brad grabbed me by my belt and shoved me up near the driver’s seat. Norm the bus driver ducked. Cheerleaders screamed and hid down in the seats. I stood up to protect JoBell and Becca in the aisle, and the man pointed the gun at me through the front windows.

Then Cal tackled him, and the gun went flying. The man hit the pavement hard on his back. Cal cocked his right arm back and brought his big fist crashing down. I could hear the crack as the punch landed and the man’s head hit the cement. A thick stream of dark red blood arched back when Cal brought his fist up again. His eyes were wide, his teeth bared, his face wrinkled in pure, shaking-hot anger.

I ran down the bus steps to try to help, but TJ blocked me, pushing me back up. “Out of my way!” I said.

“You don’t want to be out here!” TJ said through gritted teeth. “You want to fight me about this? Fine. But you’ll only make everything worse by coming out here.”

JoBell stepped up behind me and grabbed my shoulders. “Stay here.”

Coach Shiratori, Coach Devins, Brad, Dylan, and Randy all grabbed Cal and pulled him back toward the bus door. Cal accidentally smeared more blood all over his face when he tried to wipe the splatters away. Red splotches dotted his white T-shirt. He yelled at all the cameras, “You come after my friends, you get the same! Just leave us alone.”

A small fleet of police cars tore onto the scene, and then dozens of cops were pushing people back. The first cop pointed at Shiratori. “Coach, get your players onto the bus!”

We moved quickly into our seats. Sheriff Crow came up the stairs and stood by the bus driver. “Danny Wright? Are you okay? I’m sorry we were late getting here.”

“I’m good, Sheriff,” I called from my seat in the far back.

“No.” Crow shook his head. “Let’s not have you sitting all the way in the back next to that big window in the emergency exit door. Come up here and sit in the middle.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing this was all a bad dream, that none of these precautions were necessary. Then I stood and limped up the narrow lane toward the front of the bus. Timmy Macer gave up his seat behind Samantha Monohan.

Sam wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Listen up,” said Crow. “I’m sorry this all happened tonight. We might have to ask some of you questions about the gunman, but right now I want to get this bus moving. You’ll have a police escort all the way back to Freedom Lake, so don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe, I promise. Does anyone need any immediate medical attention?”

Cal held his left hand up. Our athletic trainer, Jaclyn Martinez, was in the middle of bandaging his right one. She’d cleaned all the blood off his face. Crow raised his eyebrows at him. “No, I’m fine,” Cal said. “But… the other guy, is he… you know?”

“Don’t worry, son,” said Crow. “He’s busted up pretty good, but he’ll live. We have him in custody, and we’ve recovered the weapon. That was quick thinking. Good work. Okay? Let’s get this thing rolling!” He stepped down out of the bus, and old Norm reached out a shaking hand to pull the lever that closed the folding doors.

In a few minutes the bus was finally moving, the lights and sirens from police cars leading and following us. Other squad cars moved to block traffic at intersections, so we rolled through a red light on our way out of town.

I called Mom to let her know I was okay in case she’d been watching the news. She warned me that reporters were everywhere outside the house. After I calmed her down and said good-bye, I sat in the dark next to JoBell, her head on my shoulder and her hands in mine. Nobody said anything the whole way home. I listened to the howl of the sirens and the sniffles from some of the cheerleaders and tried to ignore the faint sound of the news reports from people’s comms.

Football was my thing. Looking forward to it was half of what had kept me going through basic training. The thrill of the game and that awesome feeling I got when I was with my team — that’s how I’d been holding on to normal life since that night in Boise. Now that was fading fast.

—• grossly irresponsible move on the part of the administration. Even from the sketchy available video coverage of the Battle of Boise, we can tell there were more than two shooters. And it is about impossible for these two soldiers to have injured and killed so many people on their own in the limited time they had. What does the president hope to accomplish by releasing the names of the alleged shooters? Mob justice? I’m afraid that’s what he might get. •—

—• Police have not yet released the identity of the gunman who attacked Daniel Wright, and there is no word on what charges will be filed against him or if charges will be filed against Wright’s eighteen-year-old friend who beat the alleged gunman. The White House released a statement condemning, quote, “vigilante justice.” •—

—• Calvin Riccon, believed to be one of Daniel Wright’s best friends, can be seen clearly in the footage brutally assaulting the gunman long after the gunman was subdued. The would-be shooter survived the incident, but it does raise questions: Was Wright influenced by his incredibly violent friend, and could that influence have caused him to open fire on that horrible night last month? •—

—• A lot of the residents of Freedom Lake have been reluctant to talk to the press, so it has been difficult to find someone who might offer some insights into what kind of person Daniel Wright is, but I’m here in Portland, Oregon, with a CNN exclusive interview with Bill Mann, a former classmate of Wright’s. Bill, you were in school with Daniel Wright. What can you tell us about your experiences with him?”