KILLER T, Page 2

  Harry rested his back against the wall below a window, tilted his phone to cut reflections and started flicking through photos. The first shots with the rainbow looked cool, but lacked drama. The abandoned classroom pics were poignant, but again not the wow factor that would excite the webmaster of a news website, or a local TV channel.

  His best shots were a pair taken after they’d carried Deion out: a grim pic of the bloody floor where Deion had been lying, and another of the locker with what looked like …

  Harry zoomed in. Fearing that the cops would return and bust him, he’d snapped rapidly. Luckily the shot on his screen was perfect: Deion’s football helmet, dented and bloody, in front of a buckled locker door sprayed with his name.

  He cropped the image, used a filter to up the contrast and give the shot more kick, then saved the result. Next he watched the video. The audio was poor and the picture full of long shadows cast by harsh light through the torn roof, but you could tell what was going on, including a clear view of Deion tilting off the trolley.

  When the clip ended, Harry opened a video-editing app. He’d played around with making videos for years so his fingers dabbed and swiped artfully. Harry brought up the brightness, and applied an anti-shake algorithm to his footage.

  Sound was more of a battle, but he managed to damp the hallway echo and tinker with the frequency balance, so that voices were clearer and you could hear the eerie drips of water close to the microphone. To avoid getting ripped off, he added a semi-opaque graphic in the top right corner of the footage that read © Harry Smirnov.

  Harry popped his head above the desks when he heard footsteps out in the hall, but nobody stepped in. Back at the screen, he watched his three minutes of enhanced, shake-free, footage. It was good, but few folks had the patience to watch three minutes of anything, so he cut two edited versions.

  The first was a thirty-second highlight reel, showing Deion screaming as he got lifted off the ground, him being dropped and then ending on his threat to sue. The second was a zoomed eight-second clip of Deion being tipped off the stretcher, then kicking the medic with his giant leg. Zooming meant the footage was blurry, but the light glistening off Deion’s burnt body gave it serious impact.

  Harry rendered the videos before pushing the two shorter clips to YouTube. The local phone masts were swamped and the upload bar crept, even though he had a solid 5G signal. Once they were online, he made a short entry on his Rock Spring Neighbourhood News website: Amazing footage of the aftermath. More later! Then he posted the video clips to Reddit, Facebook and a few other spots where he thought they’d get attention.

  The clips instantly clocked a dozen views and Harry trembled less and smiled more as he surfed websites, grabbing email addresses for the news desks of Las Vegas’s three local TV stations, plus a couple of prominent Vegas news and tourist websites. He opened voice and quietly dictated an email.

  I have posted video footage of the aftermath of the Rock Spring High explosion online. You are welcome to use these clips if you credit me and do not blur my name in the clip. I also have high-resolution photographs of the aftermath and a full three-minute clip. These are available exclusively to the first organisation to contact me and agree to pay $1,000 …

  Harry stared at the $1,000 figure. He’d never done stuff like this before and wondered if he was asking for too much, or too little. He edited it to $1,500, stared at the number and then put it back to $1,000 before pressing send.

  Refreshing the YouTube page showed that his thirty-second clip already had a hundred and fifty hits and seven comments.

  Obvs FAKE!!!!

  You can see it’s Deion by his legs! How could someone fake this when it just happened?

  Harry Smirnov made this? Isn’t that the Brit kid who looks like Harry Potter?

  Yes.

  Medics getting ass sued! LOLs

  Where’s your QB now Rock Spring homos?

  JJ Janssen is better anyways! Still gonna kick Mountain Creek on Friday.

  The video neared two hundred views as Harry pocketed his phone. Rendering videos had worked the CPU hard and the phone felt toasty as he pushed it down the mesh pocket of his shorts, then grabbed his pack and headed for the classroom door.

  ‘Tits,’ Harry moaned as he peered through the door. The hallway was gloomy, but he could make out a cop by the stairs and a woman in bright orange Fire Department overalls.

  Harry went back to the main windows. There wasn’t a soul amidst the wooden picnic tables on the paved courtyard below. It was only one storey up and there was a solid box gutter he could use to dangle and drop. But this idea crashed when Harry dragged at the sliding window and realised it didn’t open fully like the ones at ground level.

  He thought about waiting it out, but now the video was online and backed up to his Google account, Harry was less worried about some teacher or cop forcing him to surrender the footage as evidence.

  ‘Why in the name are you up here?’ Harry heard, the instant he opened the classroom door.

  It was a teacher in overstretched brown leggings. She’d just reached the top of the stairs, behind the cop and fire officer.

  ‘I needed my bag,’ Harry explained as he reached behind and tapped it.

  ‘And you waltzed back into a crime scene to fetch it?’ the teacher wailed, placing hands on hips. ‘What if there was another explosive? Where’s your common sense?’

  The cop seemed more suspicious. It was the lieutenant Harry had overheard by the gate and he noticed the cop now had blood smeared on his shirt sleeve. Most likely Deion’s.

  ‘What’s your name, son?’

  ‘Harry Smirnov.’

  ‘S M I R N O F F?’ the officer spelled, as he jotted the name in a notebook. ‘Like the vodka?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘The proper Russian spelling, with a V, not two Fs.’

  ‘Uh,’ the officer said, as he crossed out. ‘You know Deion Powell?’

  ‘Not personally,’ Harry said.

  ‘And you don’t know anything about this explosion?’

  ‘I’d have thought anyone that did would have kept their distance,’ Harry pointed out.

  ‘Don’t get smart,’ the officer rebuked, but his moustache curved into a slight smile as he turned towards the teacher. ‘Can you escort Mr Smirnov off the premises?’

  Harry followed the teacher’s short-of-breath waddle down a paved path and all the way to the school’s main entrance. The ambulances had departed, but the service road beyond the school fence was lined with squad cars and a major-incident command truck.

  ‘They’re waiting for explosive-sniffing dogs,’ Harry’s guide told another teacher walking in the opposite direction. ‘After that they’ll do a manual search.’

  ‘JJ wasn’t in school today,’ the teacher replied, shielding her mouth like it was some big secret, even though Harry stood right there.

  Three TV news vans were parked on the big turning circle by the school’s main entrance. The student parking lot had mostly emptied out, while the yellow zone where school buses usually parked was busy, with anxious parents waving out of cars, collecting kids who were too young to drive.

  ‘Got my eye on you,’ Brown Leggings told Harry. ‘Now scoot!’

  Once the teacher was out of sight, Harry checked his phone. He had a message from his running buddy, Matt, three minutes old.

  Amazing vid! You crazy! Need a ride home?

  Harry didn’t reply right away, instead refreshing the YouTube page. After eleven minutes online, the clip was closing on 500 views, with comments off the bottom of the screen. Out of the virtual world, Harry found himself by a lively crowd watching three girls being interviewed for Vegas Thirteen local news.

  The producer had selected pretty girls and the trio acted super dramatic, holding hands and tearing up. One girl told the presenter that she was scared they were going to die, while tenth-grade dicks pulled faces in the background.

  ‘Harry, my boy!’ Matt Silver said.

  Harr
y looked left and saw his best – and so far only – American friend closing in.

  Matt had stupidly tangled blond hair and a solid build. He teetered on the verge of Gothdom, in wrecked All Stars, frayed black cargo shorts and a slate grey shirt with embroidered zombies on the back.

  Matt and Harry only shared a couple of classes, but they enjoyed running, lived three blocks apart and trained together at least twice a week. Both were fast enough to make the Rockets Athletic Team, but Harry ran to clear his mind rather than compete, while Matt got booted off the squad after he’d ditched class and got busted smoking a joint with some girl.

  ‘You’re insane, bro!’ Matt said admiringly. ‘Going back in like that! School gonna throw a fit, though …’

  ‘You think?’ Harry said warily.

  ‘Not evacuating, using your cell on school premises, violating student confidentiality.’

  Harry realised he’d not considered all possible consequences as he ran a hand through sweaty hair. ‘I got caught up in the moment. My Auntie Kirsten won’t be impressed either …’

  Matt aimed a thumb towards student parking. ‘My sis is offering a ride home, but she ain’t gonna wait all day.’

  ‘There’s a video on YouTube,’ Matt and Harry overheard as they went through the gates into the student parking lot. ‘It’s Deion Powell. Looks like he’s burnt real bad.’

  ‘Who’s Harry Smirnov?’ a titchy girl asked as she watched his vid on her phone.

  Harry buried his smirk as Matt thumped him fondly on the back and whispered, ‘Superstar.’

  4 SOFIA SILVER

  A few groups hung around their cars, but the student lot was mostly clear once you got beyond kids hovering round the TV crews. Harry wondered how much trouble he was in, how Aunt Kirsten would react, and desperately hoped some news editor would cough up a thousand bucks to make the risk he’d taken worthwhile.

  But his attention flipped the instant he saw Matt’s hot sister. Sofia Silver was seventeen, propped on the open tailgate of her Audi SUV. She had brown eyes, cleavage and smooth, freckled skin. A grubby white Havaiana dangled off one foot and her chipped nail varnish and thrift-store vibe jarred with the sixty-thousand-dollar car.

  ‘Found my boy,’ Matt said happily.

  ‘You’ve got some balls, Harry,’ Sofia said, smiling.

  Matt grabbed shotgun as Harry got confronted by another girl in the back. She was Japanese-American, sat cross-legged, messaging on her phone with black hair streaming down her back.

  ‘Have you met Rie?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘Nah,’ Harry said.

  Rie gave the tiniest glance away from her phone, while Sofia used the dash cam to back out of the parking space.

  ‘Everyone’s online saying JJ’s behind the explosion,’ Rie announced, slipping her phone into a canvas bag as the Audi joined a short line of student cars waiting to turn on to the highway. ‘JJ’s not a genius, but he’s no dummy either. It’s just too obvious.’

  ‘The teacher who marched me out mentioned JJ,’ Harry said. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘The Rockets’ backup quarterback,’ Matt said from up front as his big sister merged into traffic. ‘You know what a quarterback is now, don’t you, Harry?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Harry moaned, before Matt explained for Rie’s benefit.

  ‘When Harry first came from London, he didn’t even know what a quarterback did.’

  ‘But if you came to Britain, you wouldn’t know what the wicket keeper does in cricket,’ Harry said defensively.

  Sofia tutted at her brother, then started explaining. ‘Deion Powell is a senior and the Rockets’ starting QB. JJ Janssen is a year younger. He’s backup quarterback, but a lot of fans say he’s more talented.’

  ‘Way better,’ Rie said.

  ‘Just because you slept with him in tenth grade …’ Sofia teased.

  Rie tipped her head back and smiled. ‘And it’s not just his muscles that are big!’

  ‘Jesus!’ Matt said, thumping the armrest and laughing as Harry flushed with embarrassment.

  ‘Deion Powell has a chance of a college football scholarship,’ Sofia explained. ‘Coach Henning is a decent guy, so he’s kept Deion as starting QB, because this is his senior year. The college scouts will be out looking for prospects and Coach wants to give the kid a shot. Next year, JJ will be a senior. He’ll be starting quarterback and get his shot at college.’

  ‘Seems fair,’ Harry said.

  ‘But Deion hasn’t been playing great,’ Sofia continued. ‘He’s thrown eleven interceptions and just one touchdown in his last three games. Lots of folks say JJ should be made starting quarterback now if Rock Spring is gonna have any realistic shot at state championships.’

  ‘Like JJ even needs a football scholarship,’ Matt hissed bitterly. ‘The Janssen family are rich.’

  ‘You’re not exactly on food stamps,’ Harry noted, as he flicked the back of Matt’s head rest.

  ‘Our parents are doctors,’ Matt said. ‘But Jay Janssen Senior owns casinos, hotels, and …’

  ‘He owns that strip mall on Flamingo,’ Rie added. ‘JJ hooked me up with an employee discount card …’

  ‘But that’s not how Janssen Senior started off,’ Matt said. ‘JJ’s old man spent time in jail for cocaine dealing, and his casinos are the kind of places where you wipe your feet on the way out.’

  ‘I’d bet my last ten bucks on JJ’s girlfriend, Fawn Croker, being involved,’ Rie said as Sofia stopped at a red light.

  ‘I hate Fawn Croker,’ Sofia said, shuddering. ‘It’s so creepy. JJ’s in eleventh grade and she’s, like, twenty-five.’

  ‘So JJ, or JJ’s dad, or his crazy girlfriend could be behind the bomb,’ Harry said thoughtfully as the light turned green.

  ‘What if it’s nothing to do with football?’ Rie suggested. ‘Deion’s a bully, but nobody would dare snitch on a football player.’

  ‘Why not?’ Harry asked.

  Matt loved it when he knew something Harry didn’t. ‘If you snitch and a player gets kicked off the team, you’ll have every football fan in Rock Spring lining up to beat your ass.’

  ‘I guess the cops will focus on the explosives,’ Harry said thoughtfully. ‘It crumpled lockers and blew a hole in the roof, so it was proper gear, not just fireworks.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Matt blurted, jerking round so excitedly that his seatbelt locked. ‘Charlie Croker!’

  ‘Who dat?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘I did a project with Charlie at middle school,’ Matt told everyone excitedly. ‘She’s one grade below, but she was in all the accelerated classes. Super smart and a tomboy. When we had science fair, Charlie did this presentation on demolition and explosives. She had this waxy blob the size of an M&M and we all had to go out into the parking lot to watch her demonstration. She’d made it herself and, I swear, the building shook when she set it off.’

  ‘Charlie Croker,’ Harry said, indulging his journalistic lust by opening a note-taking app on his phone. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘Charlie is Fawn’s kid sister,’ Matt explained. ‘Low-rent trailer trash.’

  ‘I heard JJ and Fawn got engaged,’ Sofia added.

  ‘For real?’ Matt blurted. ‘JJ’s seventeen.’

  ‘It’s a redneck freak show,’ Rie confirmed, as Harry’s phone started vibrating in his hand.

  Harry didn’t recognise the number. ‘Hello?’ he said warily.

  It was a guy named Ellie Gold. Ellie said he was from Vegas Local, a trashy-but-popular news and listings website. He said he’d pay $800 for the full video clip and high-resolution photos, plus half of any royalties earned if they got sold on to other news outlets.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Harry told him.

  5 DEL TACO

  Harry spread some of his newfound wealth, tapping his phone at the Del Taco drive-by window to pay for Sofia, Rie and Matt’s lunch.

  ‘Nobody drops food in my new car,’ Sofia ordered as she rolled into an empty parking bay.

  Matt p
assed back Harry’s Sprite and street tacos, plus a cream-topped strawberry shake for Rie. Then he baited his sister by daubing sour cream over an air vent.

  ‘Wipe or walk home,’ Sofia ordered, then turned back to look at Harry, who noticed shredded lettuce stuck in her front teeth. ‘Thanks for the tacos, Harry. It’s so cool what you did. Sneaking around cops and stuff.’

  Rie lowered her milkshake before nodding in agreement. ‘I admire that you want to be a photographer and you’re going for it. I have literally no clue what I want to do with my life.’

  Their praise sent Harry’s ego through the panoramic glass roof. Matt saw Harry’s involuntary grin and felt a duty not to let his friend’s head get too big.

  ‘You sent Vegas Local the files already,’ Matt noted. ‘How do you know this Ellie guy is gonna pay you?’

  ‘I don’t,’ Harry said. ‘But it’s breaking news. Am I supposed to ask for a contract? Wait for my aunt to get home and read it? This time tomorrow, nobody will give a damn.’

  ‘Vegas Local is a well-known site,’ Sofia said. ‘Don’t sweat – baby brother’s jealous is all.’

  As Sofia drove, Harry checked the thirty-second edit of his video on YouTube. It had clocked 3,000 hits in less than an hour and Vegas Local had put the full version up, together with an article on its home page.

  ROCK SPRINGS HIGH EXPLOSION

  EXCLUSIVE FULL VIDEO: HORRIBLY

  BURNT QUARTERBACK DROPPED OFF

  STRETCHER BY BUNGLING MEDICS!

  Harry pressed play. A compulsory fifteen-second ad for whitening toothpaste made the site seem tacky and the comparison with his dead mum’s award-winning journalism less favourable. And Aunt Kirsten wouldn’t be impressed when she found out that he’d risked arrest, expulsion and the prospect of a shooter, or secondary explosion, just to make a gory clickbait video for a third-rate news site.