Tornado Valley: Huntsville's Havoc by Shelly Miller

Author:Shelly Miller [Miller, Shelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shelly Miller
Published: 2012-12-23T05:00:00+00:00

16

The Murders of Madison County

T minus two months and counting. February made us shiver. It was another dismal February Friday when my daughter dressed for school. “Can you drop me off at the path, Mom?” I guessed I could, but it was such a pain. Her middle school was only three blocks away but I didn’t think that even I could carry her heavy backpack for three steps. The foggy morning dropped a curtain of crusty ice over my windshield. The icy windows wouldn’t have caused me such grief if I owned a bona fide ice scraper. I was forced to use the edges of an outdated cassette case from the last century as my scraper.

I whisked my daughter to the path that led to the school and practically kicked her out of the car, not to be mean, but for momentum to propel her and her massive book bag forward. I forgot and had to chase her down to pray with her. I never let a school day start without praying over my children. Usually rushed, I at least managed to pray, “Lord, keep her safe and healthy today,” which translated to: “I’ll call you back later when I have time, God” kind of prayer. Had I known what the day had in store for my daughter, I would’ve held her prisoner in the car against her will and never let her go to school that morning. Every other middle school mom would have done the same thing had they known what the future held. The empty school hallways would have echoed in silence instead of ached in agony.

“Hey,” my daughter greeted her schoolmate. “Hey,” he replied. The hurried greeting was all students managed to utter in the hallways between classes. The class bell signaled a mass exodus of students flooding the halls, anxious to see and to be seen. A maze of backpacks dodged and zigzagged to the book lockers like salmon swimming upstream. Pranksters slammed their books on the floor for a knee-jerk reaction and locker doors slammed for effect with loud smacks. When a single gunshot rang through the halls, most students didn’t even flinch.

When the students realized what happened, some hid behind poles, some under tables, and some fled the building. All but two students ran for cover. Of the two, one still held the smoking gun, and the other lay lifeless in a pool of blood. Like a chain reaction, pandemonium permeated the hall as panicked teens scrambled for sanctuary. Teachers shoved students inside classrooms while wrestling their backpacks to the floors. Classroom doors that once flung open for students eager to escape were slammed shut by school children seeking shelter. It was unreal. It was surreal. It was a Code Red and it was allegedly cold-blooded murder.

My neighbor brought the bad news to my front door. I was confused as to why she stood on my porch with her hair dripping wet in the middle of winter. Suddenly, my stomach dropped to the ground as her words sank into my skull.

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