Title: And the Thunder Rolls

By: duffshel

Author's Note: Hey all! What's up? Hope everyone is still hanging in with me on this. Trying to keep it coming, keep it interesting for y'all. So yeah, really not much to say. Thanks as always. You guys always rock! Keep it coming. Helps me out with what else I should torture you with. See you guys sometime over the weekend with the next chapter. Go now. Check in on the guys! Bye!

#12: He won't do this again…

The second room had been a bust. Nothing was stirred at all inside, no mysterious blood pools anywhere. And no god-damned kids anywhere. Brass wanted to put a couple bullets into the wall to help with the anger he could feel building up. Not that many room left that they could get to. And he was sicker than hell of seeing them over and over. He would have to see this place every time he closed his eyes over the next week. Brass just had that feeling about it.

He stomped his way to that damn band room. This was the place where this all had to begin. If someone wasn't dumb and mean enough to shoot that poor girl, none of them would be in this situation. All the detective needed and wanted was that damn bottle he still kept in that drawer, though it had been collecting dust for some time. Age always helps the finest booze. It was common knowledge.

Brass threw those thoughts into the back of his mind and forced himself back into the here and now. It was his job to get everyone out of this in one piece. He already had two injured CSI's and now one more dead kid. Lots of paperwork was going to be needed when he returned to the station. His hands twitched into fists at that thought.

Shaky breaths were being drawn in behind him and Brass took a deep breath of his own. The kid was never in a situation like this. Yeah, he had been on a scene where there had been gunfire and blown up in a lab explosion, but Greg was still one of the more innocent ones. Wouldn't be right to blow up at him for being twitchy in a situation like this. But, then again, he wouldn't be Jim Brass if he didn't.

"Wanna calm down there, Sanders."

He really hadn't meant for it to come out so rough. It was just his nature to sound tough and hard. Even when he was trying hard to not be. But the kid still answered him.

"Sorry. Just hoping this is all over soon."

Warrick nodded his head as he kept step with the younger CSI, "Hear ya on that one, man. Those damn kids better be in this room. Sick of walking around this place."

Both beams of light shined upon the door as if it were a place for all religious answers. Shadows danced across the dreaded wood. Greg could swear if he looked long and hard enough, the blood lost inside the room would start to run down from the top to create a sea of terror at the bottom. He gulped and took a small step closer to the other two men.

"Well, let's stop yakking out here like a couple of school girls," Brass huffed as he opened another door, to another room in the same hell.

His arm jerked from his body to throw light into the darkness, Warrick's right with him. The three men took large, yet silent steps inward. Even though they could only see a few feet in front of their eyes where the light didn't penetrate, they kept starring hard into the darkness as if it was enough to lift it.

Greg gasped and reached out for Warrick's arm, pulling to in the direction he wanted, "Over here!"

Her skin was pale in the light. Some areas were tinged a sweetly pink color, bathed in soft shades of blood. Darkness swallowed her hands and feet from their wide spread angles. Greg bit his tongue to hold in the gag as he looked over Natalie's dead body.

It was a fresh kill. Brass' mind raced as he moved his body forward. His gun felt heavier in his hand as he moved, ready to use it. He searched for Kevin all around the area. No one else was there. But there was no way the boy slipped past them.

"He's still here."

Warrick nodded he head as he moved his flashlight around, trying to reach into all the corners and dark spaces. His movements were not smooth, but he would worry about being Mr. Cool at some other time. Now it was time for panic and uncertainty. No one would judge and call names.

But he tensed as he was about to pass over the stupid truck once again. The boy suddenly seemed taller, stronger. Of course, now he had a gun in one hand, a red, dripping knife in the other. Warrick faltered a little, not quite sure what to do.

"Drop it! Throw it away, Kevin."

The shouted command from the CSI caused Brass to focus and send his light out to aid. Pinned with both lights, the boy's smile simply grew, eyes crazy with some sort of lust. The gun didn't even shake, the knife rose a little. It was two guns against one, yet the kid wasn't letting down.

Brass growled, "Drop it. Hands where I c'n see 'em."

Kevin shook his head, body shaking with mirth, "Sorry, but can't do it. You got in the way. Everyone. Should have just let the girl lie, die."

"What? You shot Kayla? Why?" Greg couldn't hold his tongue as thoughts raced. This kid had seemed so unlikely. Quiet, shy almost.

The boy raised his gun, making a sharp gesture to the ground with it. He wanted them to lose their weapons. It seemed ludicrous that he would have the nerve to order a detective and a CSI to drop their guns in such a situation. But here he was, still smiling away.

"No need for stupid answers to such stupid questions. If you wish to live a little longer, it would be best if you lost your guns."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Warrick said as he took a step forward, rubble crunching under his boots, "Seems like your out numbered."

If possible, the smile grew even more, "Oh really."

Brass could feel his heart stop beating when the gun was locked behind him. Keeping his gun and out in front of him, he shifted the light enough to see the girl behind him. He shouted through his conscious about not checking over the girl. She had appeared dead, but now she looked very much alive. Still covered in blood, but very much alive.

"Wha' the fuck?" Warrick cursed out in a rush of air.

Pale cheeks crinkled into rows of pale pink and white wash as Natalie smiled, "Drama club."

Breathing became difficult as Greg's panic gripped him. It seemed like his throat was closing up, chocking off all air. They were stuck between two grinning fools, with guns. And he really wanted to know how they got those damn things in this place.

"Would seem you three aren't in a good situation any longer. We prepared for such things, but never dreamed it would all turn out like this," Natalie spoke softly though her voice seemed to stretch to fill the entire room.

Sharing a look with Brass, Warrick began to slowly lower his gun. They were in the middle. It was where the crosshairs met. If they played this right, they could get the upper hand again and make it out of this alive.

Kevin walked boldly over to Warrick and ripped the drooping weapon from the slack hands. He reached around and put it in the band of his pants like he had seen all the cops do it in the movies. It was a powerful feeling one he could get used to. The teenager watched Natalie do the same thing with the burly cop.

"Now, no one do anything stupid. Hate to have to do something bad," his smirk was clear in the odd lighting thrown by the flashlights.

Brass' face went blank as he stared down the kid, "And how do you thing you're even in charge here? Huh?"

"We have the guns, the upper hand." Her voice dripped like sweet honey, still swarming with bees. Natalie moved a few steps closer to her partner in crime. The movements of her body were graceful, smooth. She wasn't afraid of anything while doing this.

"But we're not the only ones," Greg tried his hardest not to let his voice crack, though he was only so successful, "We have friends in the other room."

"Maybe."

The shrug was so casual. It was if they were talking about what color the sky was or something as meaningless and yet so profound. Warrick couldn't get his head around this situation. Lots of shit had hit the fans over the last couple of years, but this was not something he was coded for. Teenagers going crazy in a destroyed school with a suddenly large arsenal. Nothing came up.

"Or maybe not."

It was like a cue. She had mentioned a drama club. All this was a big play. There were acts, stages, and scenes that had to be run through. They had seen the music fall apart, crash in a large bang of percussion and winds. Not the actually drama was coming into affect. Greek poets couldn't have been more pleased with this tragedy playing out.

Three rapid shots rang through the door behind the three men. Warrick almost chocked on the breath he sucked into his lungs. Burning sensations ran up and down his spine, paralyzing him with a gaping look on his face. Only his eyes moved around, trying to gain control.

Greg's cry of alarm was soft and wispy. Both his hands formed tight fists. All that he could comprehend were the guns starring him down and the ringing of bullets singing in his ears. It was painful and yet comprehension was clear. They were all going to die.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The drive was much too slow. It was supposed to only take a grand total of seven minutes to get from the station to the school. Here they were, stuck in the middle of some intersections, ticking away to twelve minutes. Grissom prided himself on being a patient man, but even he had his limits.

Sheriff Baker didn't bothering looking in the rear view mirror knowing what kind of expressions he was be getting from the two CSI's. The rushes of sarcastic breaths from the blonde were enough to tell him these delays were not appreciated in the slightest. But he kept himself from yelling at them that this was a disaster zone now and shit was going to get in the way.

His hands were tight on the steering wheel as he approached the new road. He was supposed to turn right. It would lead him to the school. This was the direct route. But it was blocked by destruction. A few cars were now barricades. Several trees were closed off draw bridges. He turned to Officer Duncan and sighed.

"Another way?"

"I don't know. We would have to go up and around then. Add another ten minutes if the roads are any better. Seems to be the center of the damage. School must be trashed."

Catherine leaned forward so she could interrupt the conversation, "You mean no one has been down this way yet? No one has seen the school?"

"First step in the procedure is to search and rescue yes, but we also needed to control any fires going on around. There were at least three that I know about. And my guys have been picking up people wandering around on the streets. Indoor searching comes next, but it will be a long process. Places like the school, which are supposed to be empty, will be last on that list."

It was not an answer either wanted. Grissom kept his eyes out the window, searching for anything. And something was catching his attention. He couldn't tell what it was, but it didn't look like any tree that he had ever seen. His hand was reaching for the door handle before he could stop it.

The car was still moving when his feet hit the ground. Grissom's balance was thrown slightly, but he managed to move forward without falling on his face. Shouts came from the car, the squealing of breaks as the car was stopped.

"Gil, wait!" Catherine bolted through the open door right behind her friend, "What're you doing?"

He kept his face crisp and professional, "Something's not right here."

Catherine shook her head at the vague response, but didn't bother to stop the man from walking forward. Realizing they had no lights, she darted back to the car and shuffled through the kit bags they had brought with them, just in case. Both flashlights were near the top and she was right after Grissom once she had them.

"Hey, wait up. You're going to need this."

"Thanks. Didn't think about that."

"It's alright. I'll make sure Ecklie doesn't hear about it."

It was enough to quirk his lips a little, but Grissom turned his attention back to the road he wanted to follow. He could hear the squawking of the police radio behind him, Sheriff Baker shouting off orders. But there wasn't any word for him to stop, not to move.

He walked right to the spot that demanded his attention. Seeing enough dead bodies in his life, Grissom was sadly disgusted to know he could identify one from a good distance away. Even one so small, so innocent.

"Oh god," Catherine stopped at his side, her hand rushing to her mouth. The girl was lying face down. Her hair and clothes were damp. She had been out in the rain, in the storm.

Grissom crouched down on the girl's left side and let his eyes roam up and down her still body. She had been walking when attacked from behind. There were two bloody wounds in the upper back of her jacket. He couldn't be sure of what it was right then, but it had been deep enough to kill this girl.

Hair rested over the pale lips, closed eyes. Catherine covered her fingers with her CSI jacket and brushed the strands away. No matter how many times she told herself this wasn't her daughter, she always had to check anyways. People could call her paranoid, but she would never care. The look of shock was clear on the delicate brow.

"Seems odd for a girl this age to be wondering around on the streets," Grissom commented mostly to himself. He looked up and waved at Duncan who was watching the two from the passenger door. The cop immediately jogged over, jumping over obstacles.

"We need a paramedic unit here now. If possible this area needs to be taped off. Get in touch with my lab and have a coroner sent. Let no one move the body until this is dealt with."

"Why the paramedics then?"

Catherine sniffled, "Just procedure. Need them to check the stats and declare the death. Could cause some trouble in court." Her own voice sounded odd. She sounded like Grissom. But she would let it slide this once. Only once.

The officer nodded his head and turned to leave before he hesitated and turned back, "I'll contact her parents as well."

Looking away from his searching, Grissom asked the question with his eyes. He wanted to work this scene as it was most defiantly one. It was clear the weapon used was something man made. A tree limb or rock shatter wouldn't look like this.

"It's little Sue Kenneth. I play ball with her father. He's going to be devastated."

A deep, painful sigh left Catherine's lips as she looked down on little Sue's cold, dead face. Anger welled through her as she thought about the monster that could do this. She stopped her chilled fingers from brushing across the once rosy cheek. The rain had taken most of the evidence away, but she would be damned to help the lost cause.

"Now what?"

"Have them hold this area off. We need to get to that school. I've a bad feeling about all of this."

Grissom waited only seconds longer to relay his instructions to a confused Sheriff. He asked for walking directions from that point to the school. Then he returned to the squad car for their weapons. Catherine didn't say a word, only nodded. They were off.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"What the fuck? I thought you knew how to aim that damn thing," a voice choked out in the mess of all things.

Nick barely had time to register who it belonged to as Andrew continued to slump forward. His arms went flying out to catch the man before he would be able to fall from the chair. The cop's intake of air was rough, thick. Nick couldn't tell in the light where Andrew had been hit, but it didn't sound good.

Derek jumped to his feet and pushed the dead body of Kyle away from his with his foot. The kid had taken the bullet cleaning in the front of his chest. Shock was evident on his face, parting remnants of pain. Shooting was so quick and simple.

"Oh please. Make me take out two people before this and all you can do is bitch," Amber pouted out her lip, in complete contrast to the anger in her voice, "It was cold and wet out there. And I think I cut myself trying to get back in here. So leave it."

The teenage boy stalked over to stand right in front of the girl. He had a good height advantage on the once delicate girl. Nick could feel his gag reflex giving in at how he felt he needed to help her, protect her from any and all danger. Now she was the one he needed to protect himself from. Trembling started in his legs, slowing eating its way up his body. But he fought to keep his arms still. Andrew was moaning from enough pain as it was.

"Yeah, so prissy gets a little wet. You're worst than a damn poodle. And the fact is, you still missed one. You were supposed to take them all out. Now," Derek threw his hand back, palm upright, "You left one still kicking."

Amber snorted and pulled the gun casually towards her body, "Oh please. I was sitting in this room as well as you. Dude's injured. What's he gonna do? Huh?"

"Whatever. Where's the other one?"

Nick dragged his attention of the bickering students and started to lower Andrew to the ground. In his sitting position, he was having trouble supporting the man's weight. Andrew squirmed away as he was placed on his back, his full weight on the wounds.

"Sorry, man," Nick could have kicked himself for being so stupid and doing that. He pulled on Andrew's shoulder and helped the man rest on his side. His right arm was twisted up under his head, hand in a tight fist.

"What happened?"

It was a drained whisper. As if someone had pulled the plug on the tub of life holding Andrew to the world, the man was fading away. Nick could see his eyes dulling, movements slow and hard. Something caught in his chest, but he swallowed it down, pushing it into his gut. Leaning forward, he looked the best he could for the wounds.

There were two of them. Seemingly so small, so simple. It had never ceased to amaze the Texan on how easily something so dull looking as a bullet could steal a life so easily. It was cruel and pointless. But these two were working their dark magic, pulling life away from a good friend.

"Just hand on, Andy. Ya got a little bit of buckshot."

He tried to keep it calm, not depressing. The look on Andrew's face proved to show the man wasn't stupid or slow. Andrew was a cop. He had seen plenty of other cops die from such things. No amount of joking or distracting was going to make him forget now.

"Who?"

Nick looked over his shoulder. Derek now held a gun in his hands. Where it had come from, Nick didn't know. It was the look in Amber's eyes that scared him the most though. Her green eyes were lit up by the red wisps framing her face. All the shakes and insecurities were gone. Nick's body ceased up, clamping down on the air he was pulling in too quickly.

"He dead?"

The young girl threw the question out, no care. Well, enough care to the point that they should only have one more live guy in the room with them. Two would be nearly impossible to deal with. Amber shivered in glee at how things were working out.

Nick turned questioning, brown eyes up at the two grinning faces, "Why?"

Amber waved an impatient hand at that, "Oh please cop man. You really got all caught up in my little act, huh? Here I thought cops had some sort of brains in them. Guess I was wrong. There is only one why in this place."

She sounded older than should be legal. Andrew fought to keep his eyes open, pain flaring through every fiber of his being. If he had the energy to comment, he would tell the CSI he know had a slight understanding at how Nick must feel half the time in shit like this. He hurt like hell. And he could feel the blood running like ghost's fingers across his spine.

"She had to go," Amber rested the hand with the gun on her hip, "Girl just was in the way and a pain in the ass."

"You mean Kayla? You killed her?" Nick frowned, dimples forming slightly from his pursed lips.

"Yeah, I lost the game. We pulled cards out. Lowest one uses the gun. So, here I am. Lost on a simple game of chance."

Nick was swallowed up by the words. He was sure something was showing on his face, thankful for the bad lightening from the bad flashlight. In his own game of chance, a flip of a coin, he had lost. But he had lived to see a new day. Kayla lost her life due to a card. A low card.

"And it wasn't really as hard as you'd think to do. Schools really aren't set up for watching all the students. We all brought in a gun and knife apiece. Nothing."

Her small shoulders shrugged. Amber felt bored with all this talking. She wanted to know if the cop was going to die or not. Her steps were smooth, graceful as ever. Nick's eyes followed her, but he was trapped in his own pain and confusion.

Amber crouched down, squinting her eyes, "Not dead yet, but soon."

"You said all of you had guns. Who else is there?"

Nick wanted to push her away, not let her anywhere near the injured cop. He watched, stock still, as the small hand reached out and gently pressed against the flap of the shirt underneath the top most bullet wound. A rolling started in his stomach as he watched those white teeth shine again. His teeth clenched together as he fought back on it.

"Don't touch him!" he snarled, pulling Andrew away from her slightly. A moan startled him, guilt causing the bile to rise into his throat.

"So touchy," Amber smiled bigger, "Going to die, but still so touchy. And don't forget that fact. You are going to die. None of us care about you. It's not even our fault you all are here."

"What're you talking about?"

Amber shushed him, "Not now. We've only to wait a little longer."

The CSI wanted to demand information. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until her head rattled on her neck. Shuffled footsteps sounded from out in the hall. His heart fell lower than the soles of his shoes. Tearing his eyes away from the tiny scene in front of him, he watched his friends ushered into the room at gunpoint.

Four guns. Four teenagers. One injured cop, two bullet wounds. One injured CSI, hole from a damn brick. And lots of hell to pay.

Nick could feel his stomach twist up again. It made his eyes water. He dropped them and threw out a small plea to whoever might be listening. This wasn't how he wanted to die. But, did he have anymore luck to get them all out of this, still breathing?

TBC…