Mad Swine: The Beginning Read online

  Nate stopped fifteen feet shy of the exit, bringing the whole line to a halt with him. Moving swiftly to avoid colliding with Maureen at the tail end of our line, I strode angrily around the group until I stood beside Nate.

  “Why the hell are we stopping?” I asked him. We were supposed to keep moving regardless of what was going on. Leave the rescue to the professionals. Turning to my group I shouted, “Keep moving! You know where to go!”

  “There’s something going on up there,” Nate said.

  He was always one to state the obvious. I was in no mood for incompetence. The damn buzzing was driving me nuts. I felt like the fillings in my teeth were rattling, and the buzz made my skin feel like thousands of flies were walking all over me.

  “Forget that,” I said. “Keep moving! Get them outside.”

  Nate nodded and started the line moving again, although only half of his attention was devoted to his task, while the other half was worrying over what the hell was going on down the hall. We finally reached our exit and Nate resumed his place at the head of the line. He held the door open for the staff to file through, his lips moving silently, taking count as each person passed. The last of my crew exited the door when the sound of the crowd swelled behind me. Another loud scream rose above the sound of the alarm, and more screams followed, screams like those you’d expect to hear from an audience at a horror movie. Screams that prickled the hair on your neck.

  Nate, still at the threshold holding the door open asked, “What the hell?” He let the door fall closed behind him and started walking toward the crowd. A nervous feeling started to work its way up from my stomach and into my chest. This was no drill. Something real was happening, something bad. I moved forward, too, my curiosity getting the better of me. I shoved some people out of the way in an attempt to get a closer look at what was going on.

  As I traversed the mob, a group of onlookers suddenly turned as one and started to scramble away from the scene, confirming that this was no drill. Something was wrong…majorly wrong. Nate and I neared the center of the ruckus. I winced as an elbow struck my ribs and a knee dug painfully into my thigh. For as many people as were fleeing the scene, just as many crowded forward, flooding it. Faces whirred past me, some recognizable and some strangers, most masked with fear. In the crowd I spotted James Harrington, our VP of Finance and Administration. Jim wore a navy blue suit with a cornflower blue tie. His coat was still buttoned but his shirt was disheveled and un-tucked, hanging out from his waistband. His tie was loosened and pulled askew, and his hair was a mess. In the ten years I’d known Jim I’d never witnessed a hair on his head out of place. He’d always been a sharp dresser and concerned about his appearance. Seeing him in this state was surprising.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” asked a voice to my left.

  “I don’t know,” I shouted without turning my head to see who raised the question. I stumbled forward as someone banged into me from behind. If not for the crowd I would have fallen. Instead I was jostled and shoved and elbowed. I lost track of Nate for a moment before finally spotting his balding crown behind me and to my right.

  “Did you call campus police?” another person asked.

  Ignoring the startled questions and throwing a few elbows of my own, I resumed my push through the crowd, now determined to get a look at what was going on. My determination waned quickly and I halted suddenly as another series of bloodcurdling screams rose up around me. Having made my way to the front I had a good enough view to now see what was going on. I wish I’d minded my business and exited the building per the egress plan. In the center of our ring of curious onlookers, Jim turned in a circle, eyes wild and teeth gnashing. Strange noises came from deep within his gut. The crowd of stunned people stared at him with wide eyes and curious faces, which turned fearful when Jim unexpectedly jumped on one of the onlookers and tried to bite the guy’s face.

  The crowd surged with this new turn of events, and this time I was knocked backward, losing my balance. I hit the tile hard with my butt, feeling pain shoot up into my lower back. A series of knees and feet pummeled me as the frightened crowd made their mass exit. A sharp pain tore at my ear when I tried to gain my feet. Another knee smashed into the back of my skull; that hurt like hell. I shifted to my hands and knees, attempting to stand, and someone stomped the knuckles on my left hand pretty good. The nervous feeling had turned to downright fear now. Desperate to get to my feet, I grabbed onto someone next to me. I was dragged a few feet and then my grip loosened and I fell again.

  I crouched on the floor doing my best to cover my face with my arms to avoid serious injury from flying knees and pumping feet, and I felt hands pulling at the collar of my shirt. With the assistance of the tugging hands, I pushed up off the ground and got my feet back under me. I stumbled a few steps as I tried to catch my balance and swayed for a moment before the hands at my back grabbed me firmly and steadied me. I looked over my shoulder, trying to catch my breath and get my bearings. Nate stood behind me, his own breath hot against my neck.

  “I got you, boss,” he said, his lips trembling under his thick mustache. Worry stole over his face. His graying blond hair looked windblown and sweat trickled down his temple.

  Without thinking, reacting to the stimuli around me, I grabbed Nate’s arm, leaned in close and shouted, “Get outside now! We have to get out of here before we get trampled!”

  At that moment I couldn’t give a damn about Jim or this situation. Whatever the hell was going on would have to sort itself out without my assistance. Although I was designated floor coordinator during times of emergency, I wasn’t expected to step into a violent situation. My job was to get people out of the building and to safety until first responders arrived and gave further instruction. Let the authorities deal with this mess.

  Nate and I struggled and jostled and moved with the flow of the stricken crowd and within seconds we were at the door leading to the courtyard that was our designated meeting place. Together we slammed through the door and stepped out into the cool air, taking deep gulps of oxygen. I realized I was sweating when the cold air stung my temples and neck. Still among a crowd of panicked students and staff, I shoved my way forward about twenty or so feet before I found my staff. As they gathered around Nate and me, I was grateful to be free from the horrible buzzing of the alarm. I felt lightheaded and my ears were ringing from the residual effects of having my fingers jammed in tight. My right cheek was tender and I felt other places on my ribs and back that were sore and would probably bruise by morning.

  Everything was happening so quickly I felt like I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the situation. This was all so unexpected and I was unaccustomed to having to deal with such pandemonium in my civilian life. Before I had time to recover from my thrashing everyone was crowding me, asking what was going on and what was happening. They were now becoming aware of the fact that this was not a drill and more than likely the alarm had not been sounded because of a fire. This was something totally different.

  “Calm down everyone!” I shouted. “I can’t hear when you’re all talking at once.”

  “What’s going on in there, Matthew?” Mary asked.

  Her voice was higher than usual, and she was clearly scared. Ordinarily, Mary was calm, cool and collected. As my assistant, she was faced with irate students and parents on a daily basis that were sometimes downright scary, but she never showed any fear. Now, though, she looked panicked. All of them looked as though they were about to bolt any moment. I had to say something to calm them down, to let them know everything was okay.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts and said, “I don’t know yet, but I will find out. In the meantime, I need everyone to remain calm and alert.”

  Nate looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I don’t know how much of what happened in there he’d witnessed, but I was honest. Regardless of what I saw, I had no idea what was going on. Why Jim was going crazy in the middle of the Student Union and trying to bite onlookers was still a
mystery to me.

  “Nate, keep them all here until I give you the all clear. Don’t let anyone start wandering.”

  “Maybe you should stay here. There’s nothing you can do in there. That’s not something you want to be involved in.”

  Nate was right, I didn’t want any part of it, but I had to know what was happening. I still had to make sure my people were safe. And Jim was a friend. If there was something I could to help him I needed to try.

  “Just do what I said, please,” I told Nate.

  Turning away from twenty sets of frightened eyes, I strode about ten paces back toward the exit where there was a little more elbow room. It seemed as though people were coming to their senses and instead of crowding the exits they’d moved away to make room. I tugged my cell phone from my back pocket and dialed the number for campus police. A recorded message played, informing me that circuits were overloaded and to try my call again. That was surprising. It would take a great many calls for the campus police switchboard to become overloaded. Something more serious was happening somewhere else on campus. Jim couldn’t possibly be the only attraction.

  I returned my cell phone to my pocket and glanced around. People were running in all directions in the quad while others were clumped together in groups, waiting for someone to instruct them. Almost everyone had a cell phone held up to their ear. Some were recording the frenzy and would no doubt be posting their movies on YouTube.

  Suddenly a surge of shouts and screams tore through the air from the south end of the quad. Craning my neck to try to get a better view, I watched as a crowd of people nearest the Fine Arts Center quickly dispersed. Folks were bolting away from the center and the library, and were headed in my direction. They were moving fast, propelled by sick fear. I felt my stomach coiling up again and warning bells were sounding in my head. People were drawn to the macabre; they would stand around at the scene of a horrible accident, or look on as suicidal man or woman plunged to their deaths. If people were running instead of enthralled by the events, it had to be from something immediately threatening.

  As the first wave of runners blurred past me, I overheard Nate shouting. At first his words were unintelligible but because he kept repeating I finally understood his message. He was yelling for folks not to go inside. His shouting was pointless. Something had spooked them into an all-out sprint. Fear controlled them now and simple verbal commands would be ineffective.

  My eyes darted everywhere at once, trying to hone in on the source of the commotion. It was hard to focus on anyone for too long. Bodies were just colorful blurs of movement in all directions across the quad. I closed my eyes for a moment and rubbed them with my fingers. I brushed sweat away from my forehead with my shirt sleeve. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was drawn toward one of the crowd, a young man in his twenties with shoulder length blond hair. I spotted him because of the odd way he was running. He seemed to be favoring a leg. He looked like Quasimodo running all hunched over and uncoordinated. He wore black jeans and a blue T-shirt. His shirt was covered with blood.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” I said.

  Although I watched Jim attempt to attack someone, this was the first sign of someone injured. The sight of the wounded man drove home the seriousness of the situation. It also confirmed that something else was happening on campus. The incident with Jim was not an isolated event.

  My eyes were glued to the blond man with the bloody shirt. Given the amount of blood on him and the way he ran, I expected him to keel over, succumbing to his wounds. But as I watched, he reached out and without warning, pulled a woman to the ground, the dead weight of his body falling against her, too much for her knees to bear. I cringed at the sound their bodies made when they hit. Without realizing it, I started to move forward but halted and then did a double-take. For a moment, I thought I saw him take a bite out of the back of her neck but I couldn’t be sure.

  Mary’s screamed my name and that finally broke my fixation on the blond man. I turned my head in her direction, frightened of what I would see. Mary was pointing frantically toward the direction of the Fine Arts Center. Turning again in the other direction I saw what the fuss was about; a second guy running in a crazy, mindless fashion. His brown suit jacket hung down behind him, having fallen off his left shoulder. Maroon blood spread across his lips and chin, was smeared down his right cheek. He was pretty hefty, certainly heavier than I, and moving at full-steam, coming directly toward us. He showed no sign of stopping.

  When it was clear that the chubby runner was out of control and would not deviate from his course of collision, I shouted, “Everybody move! Get back inside. Go! Go!”

  I plunged forward pushing those who were too stunned to move of their own accord. Too many stunned onlookers were frozen where they stood. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the man in the brown suit was almost on us. I had no clue why we were suddenly his target. I couldn’t understand my sudden fear of what appeared to be a wounded man, probably just looking for someone to help him.

  “Come on, move damn it!” I shouted again, my voice harsh and dangerous.

  With my own fear rising to the surface, I roughly ushered the stricken folks back toward the building we’d exited just moments ago. The tone of my voice finally got them moving but in their haste to comply, many of them started to scatter in various directions, unsure where to go, where to move. Nowhere seemed welcoming; everywhere someone was running or screaming. I needed them all to stay together, damn it.

  “Nate, keep them together for Christ sake,” I yelled, making a circular motion with my arms to get my message through.

  Nate shouted something I couldn’t hear—the whole damn quad sounded like a Metallica concert—but his wide eyes and gesturing hands warned me what was about to go down, and I was the target. Turning back toward the direction of the library I immediately saw the man in the brown suit, still hauling ass in our direction. He was several yards away and for whatever reason he’d set his sights on me. Suddenly, I was a matador and he an angry bull. Our eyes locked and we were now engaged in battle.

  Mary stood beside me, gripping my arm tightly as the bloody man took aim. He slammed through a couple of young kids who’d run right in front of him, and the two kids bumped off him like bowling pins and hit the ground, unaware of what had just happened. The bull merely stumbled a bit off course, barely breaking stride and then continued at us again, full steam ahead. I pried Mary’s death-grip from my arm and pushed at her, trying to get her out of harm’s way.

  “Go!” I yelled.

  Mary didn’t move. She seemed to be in shock, frozen with fear, unable to get her legs moving beneath her petite body. The crazy bastard was now just several yards away and closing fast. Acting out of instinct, I shoved Mary away again, this time with enough force that she fell on her butt. I had very little time to brace myself for the hit; I turned my body sideways, crouched slightly, tucked my arms in and pushed my shoulder forward, just like I remember being taught in high school football.

  My eyes squinted and my body tightened, anticipating the impact. The bull was just a yard away now. I could smell his sweat from this distance. His dull eyes fixed on me and his lips retracted revealing thick yellowing teeth. I knew he outweighed me, but from this distance he appeared enormous, at least three hundred pounds. At thirty-seven, I wasn’t sure I could take a hit from a gorilla anymore. Before I could test my body’s resilience against the crazed, bloody man the sound of a gunshot rang out.

  The bull staggered slightly, veering to the right just a foot away from making bodily contact with me. He hit the small railing that separates the walkway from the courtyard and flipped over it head first. He hit the ground hard with his face—I heard a sickening slapping sound—but was up quickly, like he had springs embedded in his legs. Instead of turning back toward me, some unintelligible sound issued from deep within his diaphragm. Without giving me a second glance he ran in the direction of the computer lab and a group of people who had stopped to watch what was go
ing on. For whatever reason, I was no longer his target.

  I stood in my football stance a moment longer watching the man in the brown suit run, the jacket still hanging askew off his right shoulder. His sweaty white shirt was stained by a blossom of blood spreading from the back of his left shoulder where the shot had taken him. After the spill over the railing, landing on his face, and taking a gunshot to the shoulder, I would have expected any man to have stayed down. The man had sustained serious trauma, yet he continued his sloppy run toward the panicked, screaming, and running students. How the hell does that happen? He had to be on some sort of heavy narcotic.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered, my breath shuddering out of my lungs. Again I used my sleeve to wipe sweat from my brow.

  Turning to Mary, I saw Nate crouched beside her. She was still shaken up, but with Nate’s help she stood, and together they walked over to me. Mary held out her hands, and I saw that they were scraped and raw, and her left elbow was bleeding.

  Mary continued to look at me but remained quiet. Nate asked, “Was that a gunshot?”

  My mouth was dry. I tried to work up some saliva, but I felt like I had wads of cotton in my mouth. I nodded my head. I looked around in an effort to determine who had fired the shot, but I didn’t spot anyone with a firearm. Things were so crazy and moving so quickly the shooter could have already disappeared into the crowd or given chase to the man in the brown suit. Although I was grateful being spared from the bull, I hoped the gunman was a trained law enforcement officer and not some student packing a gun. This whole situation might take an even greater turn for the worst if that was the case.

  “Did you see who shot?” I asked Nate.

  He shook his head. There was just too much going on. The fact that gunshots were fired changed the whole situation. The Virginia Tech and Northern Illinois University shootings came to mind. Two deadly massacres on university campuses. Getting off campus was now my number one priority.