Down on the floor!” The police are dressed head to toe in blue tactical suits. Their faces are covered with goggles and Kevlar face masks over their mouths. They’re shouldering submachine guns. And they’re screaming at me. I’m the one holding the gun. They think I’m the shooter. I look down at Josh. If I drop the gun, he’ll pick it up. He’ll shoot me or he’ll shoot Zoe. Or he’ll shoot a cop. Best-case scenario, he’ll shoot himself, but I’m not betting on best case. I shake my head. I try to speak but I can’t make a sound. It’s like those very bad dreams, only this is so real I can smell the cops’ sweat. My hand is shaking on the gun as if it weighs far more than it really does. I’m not sure I could drop it. It’s like I can’t even move. If I don’t drop the gun, the cops will perforate me with so much lead that my parents won’t have anything to bury. I lift the gun above my head. A big cop moves in closer. “We said drop it.” The cop’s gun looks like a cannon.
