Final Breath

glanced over her shoulder to make sure Warren couldn't see what she was writing. Then she tore the piece of paper from the notebook and folded it.

Warren put his pencil down and flipped over the sketch pad. Erin wasn't sure why he'd done that. Maybe his work was finished. He probably didn't want anyone in the class to see it--not just yet. Perhaps it was for later, for the police to discover. Erin felt a chill race through her.

Warren's eyes met hers for a moment. Erin tried to smile, but it was forced, and she quickly looked away. He could probably see her shaking.

Warren sat back at his desk and studied the clock by the classroom door. He seemed to be breathing hard. His hand--black ink and pencil lead on the fingers--slowly reached inside his fatigue jacket.

Grabbing her purse, Erin unsteadily got to her feet. 'Mr. Gunther?' she said, hardly able to get the words out. Any minute now, she expected Warren to shoot her in the back. Making her way to the front of the classroom, she approached Gunther's desk. She tightly clutched her purse against her stomach. 'Mr. Gunther?' she repeated.

He barely looked over the top of his newspaper. 'Go back to your seat,' he muttered.

Erin cleared her throat. 'Mr. Gunther, I need to use the restroom. I have a--a problem.' She handed him the note she'd just written, then started for the door.

'I said, back to your seat!' he barked. His chair made a scraping noise on the floor as he pushed himself back from the teacher's desk. Everyone was looking at them.

Erin headed for the door. She wasn't sure she would make it. Her hand fumbled for the knob, then she swung open the door and ducked out to the hallway. She could hear people murmuring, and Gunther's voice: 'All right, enough! I want quiet!'

Erin shut the door behind her. But she still couldn't get her breath. This wasn't over yet. It hadn't even begun.

There was a window in the door--with thin, crisscrossed wire in it. Erin could see Gunther standing at his desk with her note in his hand. But he hadn't looked at it yet. He scowled at everyone in the classroom. 'I want quiet!' he repeated. She could hear his muffled voice through the closed door.

Pulling her cell phone out of her purse, Erin switched it on and dialed 9-1-1. It rang twice. Through the window in the door, she watched Mr. Gunther finally glance down at her note.

She hadn't had much time to write anything. All it said was: 'Warren Tunny has a gun in his jacket. I'll call 9-1-1.'

A click interrupted the third ring tone: 'Seattle Police Emergency,' the woman said. '9-1-1 operator.'

For a moment, Erin was speechless. She was watching Gunther's reaction. Frowning, he set her note on the desk, then glanced in Warren's direction. 'Tunny, stand up!' she heard him bark.

Oh, no, no, no, you stupid son of a bitch, she wanted to scream.

Erin became aware of the 9-1-1 operator on the other end of the line: 'Police Emergency. Can I help you?'

'Yes, I--I'm not absolutely sure if this is a real emergency,' Erin said under her breath. 'But--but I think maybe--'

'Could you please speak up?' the operator interrupted. 'What's the nature of your emergency?'

While the operator talked, Erin could hear Gunther's voice, raised in anger. Suddenly a girl in the classroom screamed: 'Oh, God, no!' Then there were more screams, and it sounded like someone knocked over a chair.

'Oh, Jesus,' Erin said, louder this time, her voice cracking. 'I'm at--at--James Madison High School, outside room 207, and this guy's got a gun...'

Through the window in the door, she could see Gunther shaking his head and raising his hands. He looked terrified. Any minute now, she expected to hear the first shot.

The 9-1-1 operator was telling her to remain calm. The woman wanted to know if anyone had been hurt and how many gunmen there were.

'It's just one guy, a student, Warren Tunny. I'm outside the classroom right now, but I can still see them in there. I--' Erin fell silent as she caught a glimpse of Warren and Mr. Gunther in the window. Warren pressed the gun barrel to Gunther's head. The wiry little hard-ass teacher was cringing and trembling.

'Everyone, just shut up and sit down!' Warren screamed. He shook even worse than Gunther. Warren's face was so flushed it was almost matched the color of his frizzy red hair. 'I mean it, shut the hell up, all of you...'

'Oh, my God,' Erin whispered into the phone, backing away from the door. 'I think he's going to shoot somebody. For Christ's sakes, please, do something! Send the police here...'

'All right, stay calm and tell me your name,' the operator said.

'Erin--Erin Travino.'

'Erin, I want you to confirm for me that you're calling from James Madison High School on Ridgeway Drive, and right now in room 207, one of the students has a gun and he's threatening people. Is that correct?'

Erin couldn't answer her. She couldn't move or speak, because at that very moment, the door to room 207 was opening. Warren Tunny stood at the threshold, gazing at her--with the gun aimed at her heart.

'Come on back inside, Erin,' he whispered.

She gaped at him. Tears welled in Warren's eyes. He looked scared but determined.

Erin could hear some girls quietly sobbing in the room. She didn't know where Gunther had gone, but he wasn't in the doorway with Warren.

'Put away the phone, and come here,' he whispered.

'Erin? Can you answer me?' the 9-1-1 operator was asking.

With her eyes fixed on the gun in Warren's trembling hand, Erin obediently clicked off the phone and slipped it into her purse. She shook her head. 'Please, Warren, don't shoot,' she whispered. 'Can't we just talk? You--you don't have to do this...'

'Inside,' he said, nodding toward the classroom.

Terrified, Erin edged past him and into the room.

Warren stepped in after her and shut the door. There was something so final about the sound of that door closing and the catch clicking. It made Erin flinch.

She saw Gunther in the far corner of the room, facing the blackboard with his hands behind his head. Shaking, he warily glanced over his shoulder at her and Warren.

Someone had thrown up, and the horrid smell filled the room. Erin noticed several classmates crying helplessly--and not just the girls. Some students had their heads down and hands clasped in prayer. Others seemed in a state of shock. It was as if they were all paralyzed in their seats. No one would dare move. No one wanted to take the first bullet.

That seemed reserved for her at the moment. Warren still had the gun pointed at her.

From her desk in the middle of the room, one girl cried so hard she started convulsing. The whole desk shook as the mousey, thin, long-haired girl sobbed uncontrollably.

Her neighbor, Molly Gerrard, stood up, grabbed the girl's hand and steadied her. 'Warren, you need to put that gun away,' she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. Most of the guys in the junior class were hot for Molly; Warren was almost certainly among them. 'You're scaring everyone,' Molly said to him. She nervously touched her glasses. 'I know you've suffered, but you're better than this--'

'Shut up!' he cried.

Erin felt the barrel of the gun poke the back of her head. She gasped.

'No, Warren,' Molly continued, her voice still shaky, but even louder than before. 'You need to hear this. You're so much better than the assholes who have picked on you. You're not a bully, Warren. You have all the power right now. But you also--you also have an opportunity to show everyone that you're--better than the people who have been mean to you. You're better than them, Warren. You know you are...'

Grabbing Erin's auburn hair, Warren snapped her head back. She recoiled and cried out again. Yet at the same time, she realized he was now pointing the gun at Molly. His breathing was even heavier than before, more agitated.

'Listen to her, Warren,' she managed to say. 'Molly's right. You don't have to do this. You--you're a nice guy,