Read Online Threat Warning by John Gilstrap - Free Book Online Page A

coughing sound as something sliced through his belly and spilled his insides out. His face looked blank as he fell nose-first onto the sidewalk.
    Aafia pressed herself into the damp grass and curled into a ball, her arms concealing her head, as more pieces of things landed heavily around her.
    Ten, fifteen seconds later, when the violence was over, the real nightmare began, driven by a dissonant chorus of moans and screams, combined with the whining roar of fires. When she forced herself to raise her eyes above her forearms, her first thought was that she had been killed after all, and that she had so angered Allah that he’d sent her to hell. So much fire, and so much misery.
    All caused by the people who’d murdered her father. Was that even possible?
    But she remained very much alive.
    Soon, people stopped running away in panic, and started running around in a frenzy. Mostly, they were adults, but there were children among them, too. They ran, and then stopped to kneel, and then they would run again.
    When Aafia rose to her feet, she understood. There were many wounded, too many to count. Some sat, dazed looks on their faces, while others lay writhing and still others lay horribly still. And the blood. So, so much blood. Everyone seemed to be covered with it. What spilled from the injured seemed almost magically to transfer itself to the people who came to lend aid.
    For the longest time—she had no idea how long—Aafia just stood there on the lawn, watching dumbly as the activity swirled bigger and bigger. Teachers and students continued to flood from the school out into the drive, plus some people she didn’t even recognize. As if tugged by the current in a river, Aafia found herself being drawn along, moving closer to the carnage. Somehow, she’d lost her right shoe, one of her favorites—pink with white stripes. Her mother called them her pixie shoes.
    Oh, Mama , she thought. “Oh, Father,” she said aloud. Who would do such a terrible, horrible thing to him? To all of them?
    Of all the terrifying sights, the one she refused to look at was the burning hulk of their little van. She wished she couldn’t see the torn bodies and the blood splashes and the scattered body parts.
    She needed to do something. She needed to help. Maybe she just needed to cry. She really didn’t know. All of it seemed so make-believe, as if she’d stepped into the middle of the worst video-game nightmare imaginable. Why couldn’t she do anything? Why, suddenly, did everything around her look to be such an odd color?
    A teacher’s aide from one of Aafia’s classes—she couldn’t remember which one now—raced past, but then stopped very abruptly and reached out to her. One hand supported Aafia’s arm at the elbow, while the other hand cupped her chin gently at the jawline.
    “Oh, honey, you need to sit down,” the aide said. “You’ll be all right.”
    And just like that, Aafia was on the ground, staring up into the flawless sky, even though she couldn’t remember doing that. Just as she couldn’t remember what she had done to cut the inside of her mouth. But sure enough, she tasted blood.
    An instant later, the sky was gone, replaced by what looked to be a white plastic ceiling with hardware. The world was filled with a new sound. Could it be a siren? And then a stranger was staring down at her. It was a man, a young one.
    He smiled at her. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said with a smile that made some of the cold go away. “Can you tell me your name?”
    She told him.
    “Sweetheart, please stay with me,” he said. “I need to know your name.”
    “Aafia,” she said, only this time, she could hear her real voice over the one in her head.
    “Can you spell that for me?”
    She thought. “I don’t think so,” she said. But she was such a good speller. Why not now?
    “What’s your last name, sweetie?” the nice man asked.
    “Janwari,” she said.
    The face turned confused. “Excuse me?”
    “That’s my name,” she