Bomb’s Away by Loxley

 

Wherein Kevin, Denise, and James drop things down the big Chemistry Building stairwell for the sheer geeky hell of it. Dropping things is cool!

 

 

 

BrrrZAPOW!!!! The room filled with the acrid smell of burning plastic. The ghostly radiance from the monitor screens was the only illumination as three people listened to the building die around them. An electronic keening began to pierce the air.

 

“Ah, c’mon, Brad!” shouted Kevin, the controller to his OC3 game console still clutched in his hand.

 

“Oh, hush. It’s not like you were winning or anything,” replied Denise. “I guess it’s true that we girls have marginally better reflexes.”

 

“Bah. But you don’t know how to set your car up for the best performance,” countered Kevin.

 

“And when was the last time you took your SUV to a dragstrip or road course in real life, Kevin?” asked Denise, sweetly.

 

“Harumph. Here. Help me get these computers shut down before the UPS’s run out.”

 

“So… wasn’t that the second microwave this year for you guys?”

 

“Not counting the one Al’s drones destroyed, it’s the second one this semester,” corrected Kevin. “Isn’t that right, Brad?”

 

The big jayhawk speared Kevin with a murderous glance as he talked to Student Housing’s after hours number on his telephone. The cordless was dead, of course, like everything else in the room, and on the floor. Apparently the circuit breaker that fed 303/302 hadn’t been enough, and the main breaker for the floor had tripped instead. But since the circuit distribtion panels were tamperproof, it necessitated a phone call to get the power switched back on. Danielle Murrietta, the floor’s RA, didn’t even have a key.

 

The cat ignored him. “Well, I’ll just dispose of this before it stinks the place up any worse.” With that, Kevin unplugged the little microwave and carried it out into the hall. Wanna walk me down to the dumpster, Denise? I’m sooooo scared of the dark.” He grinned mischievously.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” replied the vixen with mock bravado. The couple made their way through the darkened corridor (the emergency lights having long-since succumbed to a combination of Freshman abuse earlier in the school year and crazed druids more recently) and down the stairs. The elevator wasn’t working, either, of course, having been… damaged… during recent events. All the way down to the basement they went, and out the back door to the place where the loading dock and main trash dumpster for the building were located. It didn’t smell very good, but it was a popular entrance, since it was totally unmonitored and never locked.

 

Kevin stood on the loading dock above the dumpster and prepared himself to shot-put the microwave… when an idea struck him. He started to giggle. Yes! It would work! He gently placed the microwave down on the concrete and dashed back inside.

 

“Kevin,” began Denise.

 

“Yes! C’mon!” Obviously having one of his Ideas, Denise jogged after him as he took the stairs up two at a time and arrived at his friend Alan’s room. “It’s open!” came the call from inside when Kevin knocked.

 

James was inside reading some science fiction novel or other. Kevin quickly outlined his idea to his two friends.

 

“You know the Chemistry tower? It’s got that big open staircase making a big spiral. Seven stories… I happen to have a recently deceased microwave…”

 

Denise watched as the two boys faces split into grins as they plotted tomfoolery. “Oh, no,” she began. “I can’t be part of anything like that,” she said. “What if we get caught?”

 

“Denise. Koibito. C’mon… it’s seven stories! Do you know how much kinetic energy that thing will manage to accumulate in the fall? M-G-H! Besides, why should Al get to have all the fun? It’s already broken…” wheedled Kevin in his most convincing tone.

 

“I dunno… it just doesn’t seem right…”

 

“Pleeeeeeease?” said Kevin, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes routine.

 

“Okay. Fine. I”ll go.” Denise couldn’t belive she was actually going along with such a crazy idea. “Maybe I can keep you guys out of trouble somehow.”

 

“Allright! That’s my girl! Let’s go!”

 

Twenty minutes later, the trio found themselves at the darkened Chemistry tower. Gaining entrance proved to be more difficult that they had expected, however. The main doors were locked. However, after stumbling around in the darkness for some time, they located an unlocked door leading to the basement level.

 

The first thing Kevin noticed about the basement of the Chemistry tower was that it was hot, loud, and smelled bad. There were boilers down here, as well as air-handling machinery and electric motors of some sort. It was also almost, but not quite, pitch black. Kevin, being a cat, and Alan, being an owl, they both had excellent night vision.

 

“Kevin!” whispered Denise. “I can’t see!”

 

“That’s okay, Four-Eyes, take my hand,” chided Kevin.

 

“Hmph. I ought to just stumble around in here on my own after that remark.” She squeezed his hand anyway. Kevin hefted the dead microwave under his other arm, and followed James as the owl led them through a maze of machinery and plumbing. Finally, the glowing buttons of an elevator appeared.

 

“Bingo,” said Kevin, punching the UP button. The elevator arrived and spilled light into the gloomy basement.

 

A short time later, still undetected, the trio arrived at the stairwell. The stairs made sort of a corkscrew to the left all the way down, leaving the central area open , all the way down for seven stories. There was more light here, however, coming from the lit Exit signs and normal night lights.

 

Kevin rested the microwave on the guardrail in preparation for shoving it off. “Shouldn’t we say a few words?” suggested James.

 

“Something appropriately reverent and in keeping with the solemnity of giving its body to the depths, you mean?” asked Kevin, looking down into the yawning blackness of the stairwell.

 

“Yeah. Something like that,” replied James.

 

“Hmm. Okay. BOMBS AWAY!!!” shouted Kevin as he blithely tossed the microwave over the railing. All six eyes watched as the tumbling appliance accelerated rapidly downward until it was swallowed by the dark. They could all hear their own hearts beat as they waited for the impact for what seemed an eternity, but was actually just a few seconds.

 

At the bottom of the stairwell, the tumbling microwave contacted the concrete floor. A miniscule amount of the floor was pulverized by the leading edge of the microwave (it landed on a corner). Immediately, the box-like structure began to deform as the trailing edge of the appliance tried to travel through the leading edge. The glass on the door shattered in sparkling dust, as did the rotisserie tray inside the microwave. The thin sheet metal tore as the frame twisted under the terrific stresses it was placed under. The violence of this entire interplay created a shockwave in the air which bounced around in the crazy acoustics of the stairwell, and eventually it made its way back to the three perpetrators on the top level.

 

Kevin and James jumped up and down, hooting and hollering at the splendid destructiveness of it all. Even Denise found it thrilling. “Okay,” she laughed. “Now we have to get out of here before anybody catches us!”

 

Charged with adrenaline, the trio sprinted back to the elevator, and emerged into the basement. James once again took the lead, followed by Kevin leading Denise by the hand. They emerged from the maze-like basement, and ran back to Richter Hall, laughing and replaying the whole escapade in their heads.

 

“We’ve got to do that again,” said James as they walked into the building.

 

“Definitely,” answered Kevin. “You in?” he asked, looking at his girlfriend.

 

“Sure. Why not? I never do anything crazy like this. What’s college for, if not doing crazy nutty things? Well, that and making out with your boyfriend…” Heart still racing, Denise leaned into Kevin and gave him a great big kiss, right there in the first floor hallway.

 

“Ewww! Get a room, you guys!” said James, and walked off down the hall to his room.

 

Laughing, Denise grabbed Kevins hand and led him up the stairway back to his still darkened dorm room.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

At lunch the next day the Richter 3 crowd were sitting at their customary table, even Biff; even though he was a jerk, he was a Richter 3 jerk. Some of the more observant residents of Richter Hall had indeed noticed that the upstairs bunch stuck unusually close together.

 

“Just disgraceful,” Dani was going on as Kevin set his tray down at the table.

 

“Oh, I dunno. It’s a bit chewy, but with enough salt it’s almost edible,” said Brad.

 

“And the chocolate pie is downright delicious,” added Tony.

 

“Not the food, you two! This story in the paper about the vandals in the Chemistry building! They dropped some sort of equipment down the stairwell… there wasn’t even enough of it left to identify. Probably some stupid fraternity prank,” she muttered glowering at Biff.

 

“Hunh? Wasn’t me… I was at practice, and then I was at tutorin’,” replied Biff. He went back to shoveling mass quantities of lunch into his mouth.

 

“Well. I just know it had to have been some dumb bunch of guys. I mean, how juvenile is this? Stupid frat boys. ‘Duh, hey, Chad, lets trash this place!’ ‘Duh, sure Chad, that sounds fun.’ Grrr! These kids think that just because they’ve got lots of money and connections that they can do whatever they want. It makes me sick.”

 

“Uh, maybe they were just drunk or something?” offered Biff. Dani just groaned and hid her head in her hands.

 

Kevin picked up the paper, and read over the article, giving his food time to… well, if not cool, then to congeal.

 

The article was far too short for his taste.

 

For the rest of his lunch hour, he made small talk with his friends, and hatched a plan.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

Kevin took another drink from his fountain drink, and placed it its cupholder. On the console of his SUV were the remains of dinner. Denise sat in the captain’s chair beside him, and James behind her. Outside, carhops roller-skated between the kitchen and cars. Kevin really liked this drive-in.

 

“Okay, I hereby call this emergency meeting of the Bomb Squad to order. We have a problem.” Denise visibly flinched, but James just blinked.

 

“What is it this time?” he asked.

 

“They think a bunch of dumb fratboy jocks did it,” Kevin said, sulking.

 

“Great!” said Denise, obviously relieved.

 

“What?” cried James, obviously annoyed. “That was art!”

 

“Yup, that’s right. We’ve got to change our methods.”

 

“Why, Kevin?” asked Denise, who looked between her boyfriend and James. “I think it’s great that we’re not suspected! Maybe we should quit whilst we’re ahead.”

 

“No, you don’t understand. Those… those stupid cretins are getting credit for our work! And when they’re not able to find the perpetrators because the authorities are looking in the wrong place, they’re going to look even cooler!”

 

“Yeah!” agreed James. “I don’t want the same guys who made fun of me in high school to be the ones able to brag about doing this.” Denise looked unconvinced. James got an idea. “I bet nobody ever tries to blame a bunch of drunk fratboys at MIT for those amazing hacks they’re able to pull.

 

Denise got a very far away look at the mention of the legendary hacks of MIT. “Oh. I think I understand now. Thank you James… but no, that wasn’t “art.” That was destruction. If you want art, I think we can accomplish that. I have an idea…”

 

As the carhops skated their trays of food around in the cool night air, a plan took shape.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

Two weeks later, the Demontfort University Bomb Squad was once again in the stairwell of the Chemistry tower.

 

“Pilot to forward observer,” whispered Denise into her two-way radio. “Is the target ready?”

 

“Forward observer here. Affirmitive, pilot. It’s all holding together beautifully. The camera’s got a great view. Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, heck, the whole thing! I oughta change from Compsci to being a film student. You are go for your bombing run.”

 

Denise chuckled. “Roger that, observer. You be careful now, down there. It’s about to get very interesting. Bombardier, you are go for your run,” she whispered to Kevin, stealing a kiss on his cheek.

 

“Koibito, you’re gonna throw off my aim. I might hit James.” He laughed, and picked up the ACME Water Bomb Dispenser that the three of them had constructed, along with the sugar cube model of London that covered the entire floor of the stairwell. “Bomb’s away!” he called, and began to make the timed release of water balloons.

 

“Pilot to forward observer, we’re out of here! Rendezvous at the rally point!” shouted Denise into her radio as Kevin began rapidly packing the device back into one of the duffle bags they had used to transport this entire contraption into the. Within moments, they were sprinting back to the elevator (with the doors blocked open, of course, for the duration of the bomb run).

 

“Hey!” came a shout from behind them as they neared the elevator. Kevin and Denise dived into the elevator, cleared the block they’d used on the door, and punched the button for the basement. Their hearts pounding, the watched the door slide shut just as the pursuing footsteps reached it. The heard someone yelling and beating on the door as they escaped towards the basement.

 

Hand in hand and running hell for leather, they cleared the basement and met up with James outside.

 

“Go!” gasped Kevin. “C’mon!” said Denise as they practically drug James with them, trying to put as much space between them and whoever that had been.

 

After a couple of streets, they stopped running, because it looked too suspicious. A University Police car turned onto the street they were walking beside. It’s lights were on, and it was barreling right towards them.

 

“Kevin…” Denise said, squeezing his hand.

 

“Just… act… natural…” he said as the car came closer. It slowed down. “Whatever you do, don’t run…”

 

The policeman in the car rolled down his window. “Have you kids seen two guys running this way?”

 

“No, officer. Sorry,” lied Kevin.

 

“Thanks,” said the policeman, and sped off towards the Chemistry building.

 

“Jeez, that was close,” muttered Denise. “Did you get the footage?” she asked James.

 

“Yup. Sure did. Let’s look at it in my room back at Richter.”

 

And so they did. James’ roommate was out, so they didn’t have to worry about anything. The slow motion video was spectacular. Balloon after balloon  landed in their sugar cube model of London, blasting the little buildings to pieces outright, and melting the others. Big Ben visibly toppled.

 

“Just call me James Cameron,” said James as the digital video ended. “I’m the king of the world! Whoohoo!”

 

“Now, to anonymously FTP this to a public directory and send an anonymous email to the student paper,” said Kevin. “May I?”

 

“Sure, go right ahead,” said James. “This demands an audience!”

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

At lunch the next day…

 

“Oh, Cindy, I’m so sorry,” Lisa was saying as Kevin sat down at their usual lunch table. The front page of the paper had a still shot from the video on it, the one of Big Ben falling. Kevin was very proud of the clock face; he had drawn it himself.

 

“I had great aunts and uncles who died in the Blitz,” continued Cindy, “and I’m only here because my grandparents were sent out into the country as children to get away from the bombing, and now somebody does something like this as a joke?!?!”

 

Kevin watched, shocked, and felt the bottom drop out of his appetite as he watched Cindy, ordinarily a paragon of reservation and decorum, on the verge of actually shouting.

 

“What complete jerks!” shouted Dani. “I hope that when they find them, they get caned!”

 

“And the mess they left for the cleaning crew… what a pain to clean up,” said Brad. “I bet they have to work overtime now.”

 

“And all those sugar cubes. What a waste,” said Tony.

 

“Well, the video was still cool,” said Biff. Everybody groaned. Kevin ate in silence and avoided looking at Cindy’s angry, hurt-filled eyes.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

The next several days saw letters to the editor sent to the paper decrying the bombing run. The Administration vowed that the vandals would be caught and punished, the Physical Plant department wrote about the dangers of dropping things down stairways, and the International Student Union stated its official censure of whoever was responsible for the incident.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings,” said Kevin. “I had no idea it was going to come out like this.”

 

“Me neither,” said Denise. “I think we might had better stop.”

 

“But we’ve got to clear our names,” objected James. “We have to make a bombing run where we don’t hurt anybody’s feelings and where they can’t help but see the artistic merit in it!”

 

“Well, so far we’ve been accused of being drunken fraternity members, and the next worst thing to international terrorists,” observed Kevin. “I haven’t come up with anything yet that we can do.”

 

“Besides turn ourselves in?” asked Denise.

 

Kevin nearly choked on his soft drink. “Hey, I may have a guilty conscience, but not THAT guilty. Maybe we should just drop it.”

 

There was an awkward silence before all three students laughed.

 

“Yes. That’s probably for the best,” agreed James. “We’re just not MIT. Not even close. ‘Ooh! We dropped stuff down a stairwell! Aren’t we just avant garde and clever? Feh.”

 

“Yeah. I’m just glad we didn’t get caught. Let’s head back to Richter. I’ve got a rematch coming with my lady fair in a driving game.” Kevin cranked his SUV, and expertly backed out from the space as the drive-in. He idly toyed with the idea of adding a supercharger to his engine as they drove back to campus. Not that he’d be able to get much use out of it in all the traffic.

 

 

 

 

 

James parted ways with Kevin and Denise, and the couple began the climb yet again up the three flights of stairs. It was going to be a long time before the elevator was repaired. Ah, well, Kevin thought to himself, he could use the exercise.

 

All in all, Kevin had never been happier. He had the love of a wonderful girl, good friends, a dedicated Ethernet connection to a fast backbone… “It just doesn’t get any better than this,” he said to Denise as he opened the door to his room.

 

“Welcome home, Mister Nekohashi. My name is Neil Sellars, and I’ll be your arresting officer this evening.”

 

The bottom fell out of Kevin’s stomach as he saw the large, late-middle-aged policeman in his room, holding a mug of coffee… a fear that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Darnit, it wasn’t fair! They had quit! He should just run! There was… but Kevin only stood there. Brad was there, looking on concernedly, with just a hint of not misplaced smugness. Tony was also home, and he looked angry…

 

And Kevin had been in such a good mood.

 

“Okay, fine, it was me. I did it,” Kevin admitted. “Take me away.” Kevin held out his arms as if to be handcuffed.

 

“Whoah there, Mr. Nekohashi. There are procedures. She’ll be coming with us as well, won’t you, miss?” replied the officer.

 

“She most certainly will NOT! She had nothing to do with it! It was all me!” exclaimed Kevin as his pulse rate shot through the roof.

 

“Indeed?” asked the policeman. He picked up the universal remote, turned on the television, and punched the PLAY button for the VCR. There was a grainy black and white picture on the screen. It was obviously a surveillance camera recording of everyone who entered a store of some kind, probably a grocery store, judging by the shopping baskets. “Here we see you and your lady friend here coming in,” he began, and sure enough, rendered in grainy black and white, there was Kevin and Denise, hand in hand as they walked in. “Then you cleaned out every box of sugar cubes the grocery store had on the shelves.” The scene shifted to an above-register camera, showing a cashier hurriedly scanning dozens of boxes of sugar cubes, with Kevin and Denise waiting patiently. “Which is how we caught you of course. Simple detective work; which supermarket nearby is out of sugar cubes? Check the computer to find out when they were sold, and what do you know, you used a credit card, and the timestamp of the transaction told us when to look for you on the tape.”

 

“Yeah, so what, Slylock?” asked Kevin angrily. “That doesn’t mean she actually participated. Nope, I did it all myself.” This is all my fault, Kevin thought to himself… I’m NOT going to take anybody else down with me!

 

“Kiddo, I don’t know if you realize what these stripes here mean on my shoulder, but I’m the senior officer for the University Police. So far, I haven’t read you your Miranda rights, which means I don’t have to disclose what you’ve told me already. But know this… we know there were two of you, due to a reliable witness. The tape there is going to make your “Oswald acted alone” defense pretty tenuous, and you are going to get expelled if you don’t come clean. I’ve been doing this for a looooong time. Confess, tell us who the other guy is, and you’ll both get off with some sort of administrative punishment… or the other guy could just turn himself in,” he continued, speaking to Denise.

 

Kevin looked at his friend Tony for some clue as to what he should do… protect Denise and turn in James, or just take the fall for everybody. He found no wisdom there, nor any hints from Brad.

 

Kevin made up his mind. “I was-ooph!” Kevin gasped as Denise elbowed him in the ribs. “Yes officer, I was the second person. It’s not worth getting expelled over, Kevin. They’ve got us dead to rights,” said Denise. She looked back to the policeman. “You’re sure about that “administrative punishment” for Kevin?”

 

“Yes, miss, I am. And you, too. Like I said, I’ve been at this a long time,” replied the officer.

 

“But I’m not a Demontfort student… I go to Forrest. That’s going to… complicate things.”

 

“Another destructive Forrest student?” exclaimed Officer Sellars. “Is there something in the water over there? Sheesh! Well, the President might work something out with their Chancellor, seeing as how they owe us big after that last fiasco. We’ll just turn you over to Forrest University with a recommendation that there be “parity” in your sentencing.”

 

“I… I see,” was all Denise could say. Kevin didn’t fell like saying much of anything.

 

“Now, if you two come with me, please, we’ve got some paperwork and other things to do back at the station. I’ll read you your rights there, if it’s all the same with you? Thank you, gentlemen, for the coffee.” Officer Sellars put the empty coffee mug down. “He’ll be back eventually, boys. Don’t worry,” he said, reassuringly, as he motioned Kevin and Denise out the door and down the hall.

 

“No handcuffs?” asked Kevin as Denise snaked her hand into Kevins, and they meshed their fingers together.

 

“And where exactly, would you go, if you managed to outrun me and my Motorola radio?”

 

“Umm… I hear Sweden is nice?” quipped Kevin.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *         

 

Kevin and Denise were read their Miranda rights, and separated. Being a university police department, it wasn’t equipped for industrial grade incarceration, but it did have a couple of unused holding rooms that usually served as no more than drunk tanks… except the campus police were more apt to give an inebriated student a lift home than arrest him, truth be told. Their statements were taken, separately, and they were told that they would be spending the night. However, they would be released the next morning after a meeting with the President of the University.

 

“I want my phone call,” asked Kevin, sitting at the night shift officer’s desk. “I mean, as long as I’m being “processed” and all.”

 

“Are you sure, kiddo? You’re getting out in the morning, you’ve admitted that you did it, and there’s no need to call a bail bondsman…” replied the night shift officer, busily filling out the paperwork that goes with being arrested and jailed, however temporarily.

 

“Look, do I get my phone call or not?”

 

“You watch too many movies, kid. Sure. Dial 9 for off-campus.” The night officer slid his phone over to Kevin and continued his paperwork as Kevin dialed.

 

“Lisa? Hi. It’s Kevin. Listen, is Cindy there? Oh. I see… well, that figures, the way my night has been going. I wish that I had been able to tell her I was sorry before Tony got to her and filled her in. Look… would you tell her I’m really very sorry? Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Bye.” He hung up the phone. “Um, officer, could I just go ahead and curl up my cell? I have had one awful night. I would just as soon wake up and it be a new day.”

 

“Sure. Follow me.” The policeman got up from his desk and led Kevin to his “cell,” far removed from the room where Denise was being held. Kevin walked right in, took off his jacket, and made it into a pillow as he laid down on the bare floor. He heard the deadbolt slide home with a “thock!” sound.

 

He had never wanted to see and hold Denise so badly in his entire life. He needed to know that it was all really going to be okay, that this was just some stupid freshman mischief that they’d gotten themselves into, that they would laugh about later. But he didn’t really know anything of the sort… and the fear ate at him.

 

If Kevin slept any that night, he wasn’t aware of it. The worry and the dread of what was to become of him and Denise, and to a lesser extent their educational careers was all consuming.

 

Finally, though, morning came. Officer Sellars knocked on the door, and unlocked it. “Good morning, Mr. Nekohashi. It’s time to go meet the President. Would you like something to eat or drink, first? Mary-Lou brought biscuits. Or perhaps go to the bathroom? It’s down the hall and to the left. Past the vending machines.”

 

Kevin numbly trudged and went into the bathroom. On his way out, however, he looked into the mirror, and didn’t even recognize himself. His hair was all over the place, eyes were bloodshot, and he had a crick in his neck from “sleeping” on the hard floor of the holding cell. Kevin washed his face, and did the best he could with his hair for not having a brush or comb. After stopping at the vending machines long enough to slot his student ID through the card readers to get a candy bar and a carbonated beverage, he almost began to feel like a real person.

 

“Where’s Denise?” he asked.

 

“She’s already gone. Forrest sent a unit over here earlier to pick her up,” explained Officer Sellars.

 

“Oh,” was all Kevin could say, as whatever hope for the rest of the day was simply drained out of him. “Well. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

Kevin got to sit up front in the police cruiser as they drove to the administration building. He looked at the integrated laptop that the police all seemed to have in their cars these days, but he was too dejected to even think about examining it closely, or finding out what it could do. All he could think about was Denise, and wonder what was happening to her.

 

Out the car, up the steps, into the elevator, and then Kevin found himself in a very quiet, tastefully decorated office. Kevin barely heard the secretary whisper something into her telephone as he and Officer Sellars stepped out of the elevator. She turned to them. “Please. Have a seat. The President will be with you shortly.”

 

Kevin noted that the chairs in the President’s office were much more comfortable than the ones in the police station. Sellars did too, but he already knew that, anyway.

 

“What do you think is going to happen to Denise?” asked Kevin, whispering, as if her were in a church or library.

 

“I don’t know,” whispered back Sellars, “but probably just some community service. It will most likely not be anything too onerous.”

 

“The President will see you now,” said the secretary.

 

Kevin led the way into the office. The walls were covered with pictures, plaques, trophies, and academic achievements. Some belonged to the President himself, while others were accolades for the university in general. The President (a large, powerful looking lion) sat behind an enormous and highly polished wooden desk.

 

“Sit down, Mr. Nekohashi,” said the President sternly, indicating a chair across the desk from him. Officer Sellars took a chair off to the side, against the wall. “I’ll come right to the point, since I’m very busy, and I now have to take time out of my schedule to deal with THIS juvenile behavior. What were you thinking?” he demanded.

 

“It was a stupid stunt, sir. We… I. I thought I could do something interesting and fun and creative in a way.”

”Creative, eh? You extended the work day for several of our janitorial staff, you know. That was time away from their families. And I won’t even get into the political ramifications of symbolically bombing a city.”

 

Kevin winced, but said nothing. The President was obviously very much in control, and held all the cards.

 

“Mr. Nekohashi, I am going to make the punishment suit the crime. You will take a job in the Physical Plant department as a student worker, starting Monday morning, subject to your school schedule, until you’ve completed 160 hours. Preferably as a janitor, but what with the recent unpleasantness with that OTHER Forrest student… Tuscano I think his name was, the repair and construction crews could use you as well. Now, I don’t EVER want to see you in my office for something like this again. Clear? Good. Is there anything else?” he said in a tone of voice that said “there had better be nothing else.”

 

“Yes sir… one last thing. My girlfriend. Denise… what’s happened to her?”

 

At this, the President’s features actually softened.

 

“I spoke with the Forrest University Chancellor, and he assured me he would find something similar for her to do as you are doing… but it seems her parents had other ideas. As of this morning, they have withdrawn her from Forrest University, and are sending her to some East Coast private school. Maybe Rennesslear or MIT… Her Chancellor told me that her parents flew in on their private jet, and took her.” The President looked genuinely unhappy.

 

“Yes sir. I’d like to go now sir. I’m very sorry,” said Kevin, mechanically. If he had felt low before, now he felt nothing… just a general numbness. He couldn’t even drive over to Forrest and see her… Denise’s parents had seen to that. Perhaps even by design.

 

“You may go. Neil, I’d like you to hang around for a bit…” The conversation was lost as Kevin marched out the door like an automaton, down the stairs, and out of the building, heading back to Richter Hall across campus. Up the stairs, and open the lock with the little jiggle Brad had taught him, and climb into bed. Breath in and out. These were the thought processes in Kevin’s mind.

 

Kevin willed himself to just die, then and there, when the numbness of shock turned to the realization of loss… Denise was so utterly taken away from him. Kevin pulled himself into an even tighter ball than he was before, burrowed deep under his blanket, and waited for the blessed release of sleep to free him from his wretched state.

 

The End