School's almost here again. For once, I actually want to go back. It's weird that I wake up early during the summer and sleep in during the school year. I also seem to have more free time during the school year, but it is what it is. Anyhoo, I'm back with another chapter, and this one's a doozy. Be warned: there's plenty of violence to go around.
Chapter Four: Hysteria
1934
The chatter of children exiting the elementary school filled the warm autumn air. Red and yellow leaves fell from the trees surrounding the schoolyard, stirred by a mild breeze that blew through the branches. Sitting on the swings, Suzie clutched the chainlinks and dragged her toes against the dirt underneath each time she swung forward.
Her backpack sat discarded against the post holding up the swing set. Her hair flew freely in the breeze, which her mother would certainly chide her for. How Suzie wore her hair fueled many arguments with Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes finally forced Suzie to wear a red ribbon with her braids. Too stubborn and angry at her mother, Suzie had ripped the ribbon from her hair and undid the braids the moment she stepped into her fifth-grade classroom. Now, the ribbon sat in the bottom of her backpack, forgotten and wrinkled.
Her blue skirt billowed in the wind, draping around her knees. She had also rolled down her stockings because she hated the itchy feeling and the September weather still offered uncomfortable heat.
To the right of the swingset, Becca sat in the shade of a tree, making a small dirt pile. Travis played with his friends on the other end of the playground as parents and older siblings arrived to gather the school children.
Since Bucky had boxing practice after school, Steve usually picked up the three younger Barnes kids. Mrs. Barnes could not take time off from work, so Bucky and Steve walked the younger kids to and from school every day.
The two older kids never showed up late, but Steve had not appeared yet.
Glancing to her right, Suzie observed Becca's ever-growing pile of dirt. Mrs. Barnes would not like dirt ruining Becca's white stockings. Their mother always complained that they could never keep their clothes clean. It's not like Suzie knew how to do laundry anyway, so it didn't matter to her.
The second-grader picked at a dandelion, the white seeds appearing like a cotton ball. Suzie watched as Becca brought the dandelion to her lips, closed her eyes, and blew on the seeds. The cotton ball dispersed, floating away in the breeze.
They were a month into school but Suzie already longed for the summer months. She could wear shorts and ponytails instead of a dress, itchy stockings, and ribbons. She wanted to go swim, drink lemonade, and ride on the roller coaster at Coney Island. She did not want to sit still and stay quiet as a cranky old teacher droned on and on and threatened to fail them if they did not pay attention.
She hated Mr. Peterson with a passion. Already, he had yelled at her for her messy hair and getting dirty at recess. Last week, she climbed a tree during their lunch recess. That had angered Mr. Peterson and sent him on a tirade in front of her classmates. Mr. Peterson had argued with her and called her mother a failure for letting a young girl act so reckless and boyish.
Calling her mother a failure had pissed Suzie off. She had refused to climb down the tree until Mr. Peterson threatened her with detention. Mrs. Barnes had grounded her the moment Mr. Peterson sent Suzie home with a letter.
Suzie was still grounded from that whole ordeal. Mr. Peterson always kept an eye on her now. His disapproving gaze annoyed Suzie whenever she tried to work on her homework or eat lunch.
She wanted Steve to show up so that she could escape Mr. Peterson's glare from where he stood at the window of his classroom that looked out onto the playground. The man stood with his arms folded across his chest, digging holes into Suzie with his bespectacled eyes.
Ignoring the urge to stick her tongue out at Mr. Peterson, Suzie slowly rocked back and forth on the swing. The toes of her shoes dug deeper into the dirt, creating two parallel trenches. She wanted to swing higher, to touch the sky with her toes, but Mr. Peterson's creepy, piercing glare forced her to mindfully keep her feet on the ground.
Creeps like him fueled Suzie's hatred of dresses. She couldn't swing in a dress. She couldn't climb in a dress. Boys would stare if she did.
Icky.
When was Steve going to show up? He had never been this late before.
Searching the playground, Suzie noticed that most of the elementary kids had left. Only one of Travis's friends remained. Becca still sat under the tree, chewing on the dandelion stem.
"Don't eat that," Suzie chided. Becca frowned and spit it out before adding more dirt to her pile.
A commotion brought Suzie's attention back to the playground entrance.
A group of teenage boys surrounded a poor victim who lay on the ground. From the swingset, Suzie noticed a small, blonde figure covering his head against the onslaught of kicks raining down.
Fueled with anger, Suzie jumped off the swing. The edge of her skirt caught on the chainlinks and tore a couple of inches along the outside of the thigh. Not noticing the tear, she ran over to the group.
"Hey!" Suzie shouted, her ten-year-old voice too high and squeaky to be intimidating. The group of boys, there were four of them, all turned at the newcomer.
"Bug off, missy," a brown-haired boy with lots of acne, the apparent leader of the group, said.
"Not until you leave my friend alone!" Suzie retorted, balling her hands into fists.
The leader scoffed and pushed Suzie with enough force to send her falling back onto her rear. He aimed to push her again after she stood up but a heavy book hit the side of his head before either of them could move.
The leader winced and turned to reveal Steve's angry face. He clutched his English in a white-knuckled grip, the front cover torn off, no doubt from the bullies.
"You fuc—" the leader started to say when Mr. Peterson's voice interrupted the fight. The group of boys dispersed, running away at the first sign of an authority figure.
"What is going on here?" Mr. Peterson shouted, his graying hair blowing the breeze like a storm cloud on a windy day. He always rained on Suzie's parade - the one cloud she could never shake.
One look at Steve's bruised face, Suzie's torn skirt, and the ripped cover of the English textbook caused Mr. Peterson to shake his head in disappointment.
"Starting trouble again, Miss Barnes?" Mr. Peterson asked, unsurprised.
"I—"
"She helped me, sir," Steve answered. "Don't blame her for that."
Mr. Peterson glared at Suzie for a minute before sighing and pointing an accusing finger at her. "Do not act like that again. You are already on thin ice, Miss Barnes, I would hate for you to redo fifth grade. Go home, get cleaned up, and start acting like a proper young lady."
With that, Mr. Peterson stormed back into the school. Becca and Travis also wandered over. Travis handed Suzie her backpack while Steve collected his school supplies scattered on the ground.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked as he tucked his ruined English book into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder.
"I'm fine," Suzie said. Her rear end kind of hurt, but at least she did not have a bloody nose like Steve. "Are you okay?"
Steve dug out a handkerchief and plugged his nose. "I'll manage. Sorry I'm late. I had a project to finish."
"Is Bucky coming?" Becca asked. She wiped her hands on Suzie's skirt, the dirt only making her torn skirt look worse. Mrs. Barnes would have a stroke seeing that.
"He's got practice tonight. We can go watch his boxing match tomorrow after school if you want," Steve offered.
Satisfied and oblivious to the bloodstain on Steve's shirt, Becca skipped off ahead of the group. Travis followed behind to keep an eye on Becca and make sure she did not run off. Suzie and Steve walked behind as they made their way home.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Suzie asked once they left the school. "You're gonna break something."
Steve let out a tired laugh. "You sound like Bucky, always worrying about me. Thanks for helping, but you coulda gotten hurt."
"More hurt than you?" Suzie pointed out. "Maybe I can take up boxing, and learn how to protect you from all those bullies."
Steve smiled and gently squeezed Suzie's shoulder. "The world could always use another person looking out for those in need."
Present Day: November 1943
Those in need.
The pastor was in need. The people in the congregation were in need.
But Suzie sat rooted in horror as the pastor's blood splattered over the back wall, staining the beautiful woodwork. Screams echoed from the high-arched walls. Everyone started running toward the front doors, clambering over each other in their rush to escape.
The pastor crumbled to the floor. One woman knelt beside him, before, she too, received a bullet in the head.
Bullets rained down from an unseen shooter. Blood bathed the pews in red, slicking the floor and causing people to slip and fall over each other. Dead bodies slumped over pews, blocked the center aisle, and piled up near the doors.
The dead barricaded the doors, trapping the attendees inside. Escape seemed less possible for the living with each passing second. Those alive tugged on the doors and scrambled over the pile to try and find an exit. Several of the stained glass windows shattered from the spray of bullets, offering a new exit. Yet, those who tried to escape were gunned down across the windowsill.
They were trapped like rats in a maze, unable to escape and victim to the whims of the one in control.
Anxiety quickly turned into adrenaline. As mayhem poured down around her, Suzie tackled Becca to the floor and rolled them both underneath their pew. A bullet whizzed by and landed in the pew seconds after they ducked for cover. Wooden splinters fell from the cracked wood, digging into Suzie's legs as she maneuvered herself and Becca under the pew.
Covering Becca's trembling body as well as she could, Suzie paused to listen to the loud gunshots and screams echoing off the walls. Both the door and the windows were in sight of the shooters, who were presumably in the choir loft. They were also not safe underneath the pew, evidenced by the bullet landing inches away from Becca's head.
The only feasible option involved running for the stairs that led to the church basement. The basement led to the alleyway between the church and the pastor's home, from which they could leave the church's property and find help. But, it also put them out in the open and exposed to the shooters.
"Becca," Suzie whispered, trying to calm her sister down. This plan needed both of them to stay focused and under control. Becca clutched onto Suzie's shirt, the material balled up in her white-knuckled fists. Tears streamed from her wide, brown eyes. Suzie had never seen Becca so afraid.
Honestly, Suzie could barely keep it together herself.
"Ma, I want Ma!" Becca cried, her chest heaving with sobs. Pressed up close, Suzie could feel Becca's heart hammering away, matching Suzie's racing pulse.
"We'll find her, but first we need to get out of here," Suzie said, her voice wavering. There were too many flaws in her plan, but she could not think of a better idea. Staying here put them at much risk as running toward the door.
"Ma—" Becca whimpered.
Another bullet pierced the air, and a body thumped onto the floor next to their pew. Becca screamed into Suzie's ear, but Becca could not see the dead man lying next to them.
Gasping in horror, Suzie covered Becca's eyes from the grisly sight.
Blood bloomed from Travis's chest, pooling onto the wooden floor beneath him. His brown eyes stared blankly at Suzie, his face frozen in an expression of pain and shock. His right arm reached out toward them, the other on his chest in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. He was probably dead before he hit the floor.
They needed to leave, now!
Keeping Becca's eyes averted, Suzie pushed her sister away from Travis and toward the stairs. Crawling under the pews, Suzie maneuvered Becca away from the ghastly sight of their dead brother lying on the tarnished floor.
Reaching the last row of pews, Suzie looked over to the stairs. The door somehow remained closed through the entire onslaught. Glancing around, a few bodies littered the path to the door. Still, they had the clearest path in the entire church.
Hoping the shooter stayed in the choir loft, Suzie crawled out first and motioned for Becca to follow. Covering Becca's smaller frame with her body, Suzie pushed Becca toward the door.
An older woman, about Mrs. Barnes's age, ran out in front of them. The woman suddenly gasped, clutched her chest, and fell to the floor. Both Becca and Suzie jumped at the sight. Another gunman had breached the confines of the church.
Blood pooled underneath the woman—the same woman who always baked delicious casseroles at every parish banquet. She had volunteered in numerous community activities and attended every church service.
The same woman lay dead on the floor, her expression matching Travis's horrified, glazed-over eyes.
Giving Becca a hard shove toward the door, Suzie stepped over the dead woman. She tripped on the woman's outstretched arm, unintentionally body-slamming Becca into the wooden door.
"Please be unlocked," Suzie prayed. She jiggled the door handle while shielding Becca from the chaos behind them. She could feel Becca grasping her arm, her smaller body shaking with terrified sobs. Suzie's eyes stung as she fought back the urge to break down into tears. Images of Travis's dead eyes flashed in Suzie's mind, shaking her body with silent sobs.
Finally able to calm her trembling hands enough to grasp the door handle, Suzie swung the door open. The force of it sent the duo cascading down the dark stairs.
Becca's shouts echoed the entire way to the bottom. Suzie felt every stair bruising her as she tumbled down the old, creaky stairs. The turmoil above them faded but she could still hear the crack of gunshots and the high-pitched shrieks of women.
Becca landed first with a quiet 'Ow!' Suzie slid to a halt shortly after, fumbling around in the dark to grab onto Becca's leg.
"Are you okay?" Suzie said into the dark. The only source of light streamed down from the open door above them. The church basement contained storage shelves and a kitchen where the women of the church cooked for banquets.
Suzie knew from experience that the door to the back alley lay straight ahead. They were within arm's reach of the exit, to freedom, to escape.
Sobs muddled Becca's response. Reaching out, Suzie hugged her sister to her chest while guiding her away from the light of the stairway.
She doubted that the shooters would follow them down here, but Suzie did not want to take any chances. They were close to escaping.
Positioning her back to the stairwell in an attempt to protect Becca from any stray bullets, Suzie used herself as a human shield while she tried to calm Becca down.
"Ma," Becca whimpered. "I want Ma."
"I know," Suzie whispered. "I know. We'll find her, but we need to get out here first. Are you hurt?"
Becca sniffed in the dark, setting her right arm into Suzie's hands. "My wrist hurts."
Feeling around Becca's wrist, Suzie could feel the broken wrist. It probably snapped during the tumble down the stairs. Luckily, Suzie only had a few bruises and bumps, not a broken bone.
Poor Becca, though. As far as Suzie could remember, Becca never had a broken bone before. The first one was usually the worst, especially in these circumstances.
"Keep it still the best you can. We'll find help, okay?" Suzie said. She wished that Sarah Rogers was still here. Sarah could fix anything from Steve's constant illnesses to Suzie's menstruation cramps to Bucky's broken ankle after he had jumped from the second floor of a girl's house—that woman had a knack for healing aches and pains.
All that knowledge died with Sarah several years ago. Suzie only remembered how to clean any cuts or scrapes and to keep broken bones as still as possible.
"Where's ma?" Becca asked again, cradling her broken wrist to her chest with her left hand.
"I don't know, but we can't help her if we don't leave now," Suzie replied. Hearing Becca sob in response, Suzie wrapped her arms around Becca's shoulders. She placed a hand on the back of Becca's hair and planted a kiss on top of her sister's head.
"We're gonna be okay," Suzie whispered into Becca's hair. "We're gonna be okay, I promise."
Feeling Becca nod, Suzie leaned back, stood up, and gently pulled Becca to her feet.
"All we need to do is go through that door, up the stairs, and out the back where we can find someone to help us, okay?" Suzie said, forgetting that Becca could not see her pointing toward the door in the dark.
"Okay," Becca replied, her voice small and squeaky, reminding Suzie again of their similarities to rats trapped in a murderous maze.
Keeping herself between Becca and the open stairwell, Suzie led Becca to the door, twisted the handle, and swore when she found it locked.
Pushing Becca out of the way, Suzie stepped back and rammed her shoulder into the door. When that didn't work, Suzie leaned back, planted her left foot on the ground, and drove her right heel into the door beside the lock.
The wood splintered with a crack and swung open.
Grabbing Becca by the forearm, Suzie tugged her younger sister up the second set of stairs and through the final door. Sobbing the entire way, Becca clung to the front of Suzie's shirt as they ran up the stairs and burst through the door.
Sunlight blazed down on them as Suzie flung the door open. Pausing to make sure that they had an open alleyway, Suzie guided Becca past the dumpster bins toward the street.
The alleyway provided no way out.
Too shocked to stop herself in time, Suzie gasped. Becca rammed into Suzie's back from the sudden halt.
A tall man with jet-black hair and a finely tailored suit casually leaned against the brick wall of the church at the exit of the alleyway. He held a rifle in his hands. Smoke curled from the cigarette hanging from his lips.
His back faced the two young women, but Suzie's gasp caused him to turn around.
Instinctively, Suzie made sure that Becca stayed tucked behind her. Hopefully, the bullets would not pass through her and into her little sister if she were shot.
One extra layer of protection that seemed too bleak to truly hope that it would work.
She could only pray.
"Well, well, well," the man said, hefting the rifle. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and flicked it onto the ground. Snuffing it out with the toe of his shoe, the man advanced on the duo. "What do we have here? Some pretty, little church girls - what a score!"
Backing away, Suzie held onto Becca's forearm behind her while glaring at the man. There was only one way that man could have Becca, and that was over Suzie's dead body.
"Back off!" Suzie shouted. She tried to keep her balance while backing away, but Becca's feet tangled up with hers. They shuffled backward, tripping over each other's feet in their attempt to evade the man.
The man kept walking, the rifle swinging carelessly by his side as he switched to a single-hand carry. The barrel of the rifle faced the ground, but any quick movement could send the double barrel aiming at Suzie's face.
"Now, that's not a way to talk to your elders. I thought church girls were supposed to be kind and pretty," the man replied.
Becca's back suddenly hit a wall, and Suzie gasped a little as she accidentally squished her sister between the wall and herself.
They were trapped.
The man stood in the way to the street, the stairs led back to the church where the gunmen were still there, and a wall sealed off the other end of the alleyway.
Boxing practice taught Suzie to fight back when cornered and stuck playing defense. And fight back she will.
She just needed an opening.
"What do you want?" Suzie questioned, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She tried to control her breathing, but she knew the man could see her trembling.
The man reached out, tracing a finger along her jawline. Suzie turned her head away while discreetly searching for a pocket in the folds of her dress.
"I'm not picky," the man said. "But I gotta say, those eyes of yours are quite pleasing, darling. Too bad your friend of yours doesn't share that, but she's curvier than you. Together, you two make up the perfect woman, like a package deal. Damn, I'm a lucky man. Finding two pretty bit—"
The man's words were cut off as Suzie finally found the switchblade knife she always carried with her in her pocket, flipped it open, drove her left knee up between his legs, and plunged the switchblade into his left thigh.
The man shouted in pain, dropped the rifle, and staggered a few feet away from the Barnes girls. The blade slid from his thigh as he staggered off, clutching both his leg and groin.
"Bitch!" the man shouted, his face red. Blood spread along his brown suit pants, turning it dark.
Suzie reversed her grip on her switchblade from an icepick grip to a hammer grip, the blade tip pointed upwards in the same direction as her thumb to give her an extended reach.
Kicking the rifle out of the man's reach, Suzie stepped in closer, jabbing the blade toward the man's stomach.
The man side-stepped the jab but stepped right into Suzie's left hook.
Fueled with rage and the instinctive desire to survive, Suzie flipped the blade back into an icepick grip, swung up high, and sank it to the hilt in the man's left shoulder.
Using the hold on the blade's grip, Suzie planted her feet and kneed him again in the groin.
The man fell to his knees, gravity sliding the blade from his shoulder.
"Damn you, you stupid bitch," the man cursed, spitting out a wad of blood at Suzie's feet.
"That's for Travis," Suzie growled, blood dripping from the blade onto her shoes. Shaking with anger, Suzie gripped the man by the hair and slammed her right knee under his chin.
Groaning, the man tumbled backward. Blood trickled from his nose. His left shoulder already turned dark with blood blossoming from the stab wound.
Suzie aimed a kick at the rifleman's groin when another man's voice shouted from the alleyway entrance.
"Freeze! NYPD!" the voice demanded.
A police officer stood at the opening, his gun aimed at the man on the ground.
A sense of relief washed over Suzie, and she collapsed against the wall as the police officer made his way over to the trio.
Becca immediately clutched onto Suzie as they moved away to make room for the officer.
But before the officer could reach the man on the ground, the assailant tongued something in his mouth and bit down.
Foam formed from his mouth seconds after, his body convulsing in pain.
Becca gasped at the sight. Suzie tucked Becca's forehead against her chest to block Becca's view of the dying man writhing on the dirty concrete.
Using his final breath, the man whispered two words:
"Hail Hydra."
Believe me, it's only going to get worse for Suzie.