Sure to Shine

Matthew Jensen sat numbly on the couch in his living room, watching the news in disbelief. All around him, there was a buzz of activity. He felt as though he were the irremovable centre that everyone was revolving around.

Next to him sat a pale and shaken Adam. Matthew had really thought that Adam should go to the hospital, but he had refused. He wanted to hear any news of Eric first hand. Adam’s parents were here, too. Karen, Eric’s mother, was on her way.

There were police everywhere. Most were out looking for Eric, but some were searching the teenager’s bedroom. Matthew sat still and shocked as they discovered all sorts of things in Eric’s room. Not only were many spent shells being recovered, as though they had been kept as souvenirs, but they were also finding gun magazines, and hundreds of pages printed from the computer about various school shootings, mostly about the one which occurred at his own school. Matthew felt as though he had been living with a stranger.

He kept reminding himself to look on the bright side – his son hadn’t killed himself, but then Matthew had seen him get hit as he tried to escape. There had been no sign of him since then, and Matthew was terrified that his teenage son was alone and dying somewhere.

The news was playing constantly on the TV in the corner.

"There have been no sightings of the shooter since he escaped from the school grounds," the newsreader was saying, her face the picture of sombre seriousness, the same face she reserved for all tragic stories. "Police urge anyone who may see him to not approach him as he is armed, and to just call 911 immediately.

"There have been further developments on the shooting itself, however. For those of you just joining us, a gunman opened fire at Jefferson High School today, seemingly to coincide it with the attacks twelve years ago today. The shooter, eighteen-year-old Eric Jensen, a senior at the school, opened fire in a crowded assembly hall during the annual memorial service, killing and injuring many before going on a violent rampage through the school. Initially, it was believed Jensen had shot himself after a brief shoot out with police at the scene, but it was later proved that he had escaped from the grounds, being injured in the duration of the escape.

"So far, the death toll stands at seven, with dozens more injured and being taken to hospital. Several students are critically injured. We’ll take you now to the site of the shooting …"

Matthew silently chewed over the brutal facts as he sat there, watching footage from the news helicopter which was hovering over the school. He could see ambulances filling the parking lot, cop cars everywhere, teachers, parents, students all standing motionless, looking at the school in total horror, no doubt.

Matthew closed his eyes tightly. Beside him, he could feel Adam twitching nervously.

"Matthew?" Adam asked eventually, timidly. He had known Eric so long that the two of them were on first-name terms with one another’s parents.

"Hmm?" Matthew mumbled, rather distractedly.

"I need to tell you something about Eric," Adam said, taking a deep breath. "I think it’s important."

He turned to the cops who were standing in the living room, as well.

"You’ll probably want to hear this as well," Adam added.

"What’s going on?" Matthew asked. He would feel guilty about it later, but at the time, a flaring suspicion leapt through him that, perhaps, Adam had known what was coming. After all, the boys had been best friends practically since the day they were born. Adam could read Eric like a book.

"Eric was acting really strangely when he was shooting," Adam said quietly. "This is going to sound like I’m talking crap, but I don’t think it was Eric doing it. In fact, I know it wasn’t Eric. It was as though someone had taken him over."

"What makes you say that?" one of the policemen asked. Adam sighed, fiddling around with the sleeve of his jacket nervously.

"Everything about him was different," Adam explained. "He walked differently, his voice sounded so different. He was dressed totally differently; I’ve never even seen any of those clothes before. The way he held himself, everything about him, it just wasn’t right. And the weirdest thing was, Eric’s right-handed, but he was firing with his left. When I said his name, it was almost like he snapped out of it."

"When did you say his name?"

"When he came over and told me to get out from under the desk. I said, 'Why are you doing this, Eric?' When he heard his name, it was almost as though …" Adam struggled to find the words. He settled for the only way it could be described. "It was as though someone had turned off the light behind his eyes for a split second, and when it came back, he looked different again. He started freaking out, asking what had happened, what he had done, and going on about some kid called Skylar. He was making no sense, and he was talking about killing himself. I tried to talk him out of it but he told me to get out. When he pointed the gun at me, he was using his right hand. He was distraught; I think he genuinely couldn’t remember anything he had done."

Adam looked up finally, confusion glittering in his eyes.

"What does that all mean?" he asked. "You think he’s faking it? Because it was so weird."

"Skylar," Matthew muttered. "Did he say what his surname was, this Skylar?"

"He did on the phone to the 911 operator," one of the cops said. His colleague had gone out of the room, and was radioing someone. "Mitchell, apparently. Skylar Mitchell."

"He spoke about a kid with the surname Mitchell a few weeks ago," Matthew muttered. "And a little later, he was freaked out when I told him his mother was planning on calling him Skylar. That would have been his name if we hadn’t decided on Eric. I wondered why he got so freaked out."

"What did he say about this kid?" the cop asked.

"Just that he was weird, unsettling," Matthew shrugged. "Then he didn’t mention him again. I guessed Eric was just avoiding him. But he changed after meeting this kid; I see that now I look back."

"Yeah, he changed a lot," Adam agreed. "Especially after he found out he looked like Ben Murdoch."

They had seen the news as the story broke properly. Eric’s father had only agreed to giving the media a picture of Eric so people could perhaps spot his son and ring the police. But, the news had quickly spotted the similarity, and now whenever the picture of Eric was shown, it was always accompanied by the picture of a glowering Ben. Matthew had to admit the two were nearly identical. The only difference in the two pictures on the news was that Ben was glaring at the camera angrily, whereas Eric was grinning cheekily. However, the look in their eyes was the same – evil, murderous.

"In what way?" the cop asked.

"Well, at home, he was quieter," Matthew said. "Kept himself to himself a lot more, just sat up in his room. I guess I know now what he was doing."

"At school he was angrier," Adam added. "Usually, he’s a really calm, easy-going guy. But then he started coming into school in all kinds of states, looking like he’d been out all night. One day he was covered in blood, and his hand was burnt. He told me he’d accidentally split the boiling water from the kettle, but he doesn’t know I saw him do it on purpose. He started bitching people out more, and he got a real short fuse."

Adam frowned.

"Has anyone seen this Skylar?" the cop asked.

"I saw Eric talking to himself once," Adam said. "Today he told me he had been speaking to Skylar, but I saw no one. All I saw was Eric getting agitated and then slamming himself up against a tree. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen."

The door to the living room cracked open slightly then, and the other cop came into the room.

"I’ve told them what’s been said," he told his colleague. "They say it sounds very odd, so they’re sending a psychologist over in case we find him alive."

Matthew winced, but didn’t mind that no one noticed.

"It’s almost as though he changed so much when he realised how much in common he had to school shooters," Adam said softly. "He looks like Ben, he has the same first name as Eric Harris, and he shares the same birthday as Dylan Klebold. He started acting real strange when he found all of that out."

The door opened again, and another cop came in, looking amazed.

"You won’t believe what this kid has in there," he said. "An old school textbook, used to belong to Ben Murdoch. I doubt the school knew it still existed, but Murdoch’s filled it with all hateful, snide comments. Looks like this kid has been adding his own."

"Bag it up and take it in," the first policeman said. "I need to get an alert out to all the officers on the ground."

"Oh?" the third asked.

"Yeah. We’ve been talking about the shooter and it seems he may have some prominent mental issues. It looks as though there are two sides of him; we have to be careful we don’t get the violent version."

"So you think that could be it?" Matthew asked desperately. He didn’t know what would be worse: the fact his son had shot up a school in the full knowledge of what he was doing, or that his son was insane, but all he wanted were answers. "You think he’s crazy?"

"Well, it’s not looking like an average black-and-white school shooting case, Mr. Jensen, that’s for sure," the officer replied. "There seems to be no pattern to the deaths, no motivation, be it revenge or hatred, anything like that. From what his friend here has been saying, he didn’t have a problem with bullies; he didn’t feel like an outcast. He got good grades, dressed average. He doesn’t fit the profile at all."

"Is there a set profile?" Adam asked softly.

"Well, there are similar traits," the officer replied. "And Eric doesn’t seem to be matching any of them."

"He’s not a bad kid," Matthew said quietly. "He’s never been trouble. I can’t think as to why he would do this. He has no reason to do it."

There was a brief knock on the door at that moment, and Matthew looked up to see his wife hurrying into the room. She was pale and her cheeks were tearstained.

"What’s happened?" she gasped. "I’ve been hearing things on the news, they’re saying all sorts!"

"Calm down, Karen," Matthew said gently, but he knew just how impossible it would be for her. She had been at work, blissfully unaware, only minutes ago.

"They were saying at work someone had shot up Jefferson High," Karen said, her face pale, but beginning to flush. "Then on the way here you ring me and say Eric’s involved, and I hear on the news it was him? Matt, is it true?"

Matthew nodded sadly.

"I saw him, Karen," he said, almost apologetically.

"They’re saying he’s dead," Karen said quietly, after a dread-filled pause. "First they were saying he shot himself, now they’re saying police shot him … is he dead, Matt?"

"No," Matthew told his wife strongly, glad to be able to tell her that much. "He faked suicide to try and get away, but he was shot by police escaping. He got up and got away, but there’s been no word from him, no sighting, since."

"So he’s out there, hurt?" Karen asked, her eyes filling up with tears. Matthew sighed, and nodded.

"I’m afraid so," he said quietly.

"What happens if he’s too hurt? What if he’s out there somewhere, dead?"

"We can’t think like that, Karen," Matthew told her firmly.

At that moment, another officer entered the room. Matthew and Karen looked up, instinctively knowing that he had news of their son. What they couldn’t tell, however, was if it was news that they would want to hear.

"We’ve found Eric," he said simply.

"And?" Matthew asked, his throat dry. "Is he –?" He broke off, not wanting to ask the question that they were all fearing.

"It’s not good," the officer said, pity in his voice. "He’s alive, but we’re not sure if it’ll stay that way."