From Amazon Bestselling Author Andy Holloman comes a story of struggle, dreams, death, and redemption.

Have you ever dreamed you were flying? If so, you know how exciting that type of dream can be. High School Principal Nick Townsend had those dreams regularly, and he used to enjoy them.

But in late 2012, after losing another battle against the mighty tequila demon, he awakens the next morning remembering a dream of an elementary school shooting in progress. When he sees the details from his dream on the news, he knows that he’s been given a gift (curse?) and the next time he drinks and dreams, he enlists his best friend to help him stop a shooting in Arkansas.

As his alcoholism continues to haunt him, he must decide whether to try and save more students from certain death. He wants to do the right thing. But should he risk his life when his lovely fiance is carrying his child? Will he win the war against tequila? And what if he drinks and dreams again, only to find that the next shooting is happening at HIS SCHOOL?

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

I – June 5,  2013

 

Before Nick opened his eyes, before the morning light struck the back of his retinas, pain throbbed through his frontal lobe and settled in his temples. He massaged them then opened his right eye. The bright sun burned and he rolled onto his side to avoid the light. With his eyes closed, he pushed himself towards the edge of his bed and sat up. The room spun and bile rose in his throat. He lowered his head between his knees and spat on the floor.  He stood up and put his hand on the wall for support. He swayed towards the wall, spilling a cup; the contents sprayed across his foot and the carpet underneath his bed.

He walked out of the room and down the hall, bracing himself with the wall until he reached the bathroom. He splashed cold water in his face and ran his wet fingers through his hair. More bile bubbled up in his throat, so he cupped his hand under the cool stream, bent down, and drank. When he came back up and looked in the mirror, his dream from the night before rushed back into his consciousness. This time it would be his school. His students, his staff.

Allison!

He hurried back to his room and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. Eight-thirty. Halfway through first period. He punched Allison’s speed dial number on his phone. Voicemail. “Allison. You gotta get out of the building. Don’t stop to talk to anyone, don’t drop by the office. Just walk out the exit door beside your classroom. Stay away from the front of the building! The dream happened again, but this time at our school. You’ve got to get yourself and the baby out. Right now!”

As the principal, he had banned his teachers from having their own phones on during class time. God, if only her phone was sitting on her desk, vibrating, lighting up, getting her attention.

He pulled on a pair of khakis and a white t-shirt. Goddamn you, Gene! Just when I need you the most, you up and leave me. He moved out of his bedroom and towards the door, pulling a baseball hat off a hanger. The school was a ten minute jog from his apartment. He stepped out the door, slamming it behind him, and started down the stairs. Halfway down he paused and brought his hand to his mouth. He bent over the railing and vomited. He spat out the remains and dialed the school’s number.

“James Thomas High School, how may I—”

“Jenny, its Nick. I’m coming right now. I’m running out the door, but I need you to do something. This is very important. Okay?”

“Sure, Principal Nick. What is it?”

“Promise me that you’ll stay calm and that you will move fast when I say to.”

“Sure, Nick, but you’re kinda scaring me.”

“Our school is going to be attacked. There’s gonna be a shooter and—”

“A shooter? Are you kidding?”

“This is no joke. It’s the Laskins. They’re coming and it’s going to be bad, so I need you to pull the fire alarm in my office. Move right now and get in there. Break the glass and then pull down the switch.”

“You mean Timmie Laskin is going to shoot people? What the heck are you talking about? How do you know what—”

“Please just do what I say. It’s not Timmie, it’s—”

“Stick?”

“Yes.” He stopped, pulled the phone away from his head and vomited again.

“Oh my god! He’s coming through the front door right now. He looks terrible and dirty. But how did you know Stick was going to be here?” said Jenny.

“Never mind. Go in my office, lock the door, and then pull the fire switch. Do it now!”

“He’s coming towards the office!  He’s got a gun. Mr. Laskin, what are you doing? Please put that gun away. I—I have to; you have to, Mr. Laskin! No! Please no!” The line went dead.

“Jenny? Jenny? Are you there?” He looked down at his phone’s screen.

Call ended.

 

II – About Six Months Earlier

 

The walkie-talkie crackled in his pocket.

“Nick, its Susan. The Laskin kid is in another fight. Need you at the front of the school.” Nick turned and walked quickly towards the main doors. He lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth and keyed the mike.

“Copy, Susan. I’ll be right there. Don’t get in the middle of anything, okay?”

“Hurry. He’s got some ninth grader down on the ground.”

Nick reached the crowd surrounding the fight a minute later and pushed through. He grabbed Timmie and pulled him back with ease. The boy on the ground was crying. Blood flowed from his lip and nose.

“He started this, Principal Nick!” The boy on the ground pointed at the other. “He grabbed my lunchbox.”

“That’s a bunch of crap. The kid’s lying and—“

Nick leaned in close to the boy he still held in his grip. “Shut up, Timmie.” Nick stood up and looked around at the crowd of a dozen students that had encircled them. “Okay, okay. We’re all done here, everyone back to class.” The crowd slowly turned back towards the school.

Nick turned to Timmie, “This is the second time this year I’ve pulled you off someone who claims you started a fight.” He pointed towards the front entrance. “Get in my office, now!” Timmie jerked his arm out of Nick’s grip, glaring back at him as he walked towards the office. Nick kneeled down and helped the other boy stand up. “David, I’m really sorry. Susan, do you have any Kleenex?” She nodded and handed him a small package. “So, he tried to take your lunch, right?”

David dabbed his lip with a Kleenex and nodded. “Same thing he did to Donnie before Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sorry, David. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Nick stood up and walked back to the school.

When he got inside, Timmie was standing at the entrance to Nick’s private office, yelling at Jenny, the school secretary. “I told Principal Nick I didn’t do anything! I’m not staying here!”

“Yes, you are,” said Nick. “Get your butt in my office right now.” Two other teachers walked in, attendance reports in hand.

“I’m leaving,” said Timmie, walking towards the door. Nick’s face reddened and he grabbed his arm.

“You stop right there,” said Nick, jerking him back. Timmie’s face flushed and he tried to pull his arm free, but Nick held fast. He turned his head and spat in Nick’s face. Nick released his grip and wiped the spit off his nose and mouth. Nick drew his fist back and thrust it forward, catching Timmie squarely on the mouth. He fell back into a bookcase. Glass and books sprayed down onto the floor.

“Damn,” said Timmie, looking up from the floor, “what the hell was that?

“Nick! What did you do?” yelled Jenny. One of the teachers rushed to Timmie and helped him stand up. Jenny took Nick by the arm and led him into his office.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Nick,” she said as she shut the door behind her. He kicked the chair beside his desk and it slammed into the wall.

“Damn it. Why did I do that?”  He wiped his face again. “That was bad.”

“It was, Nick,” she said softly. “Even though the kid just spat in your face, you can’t lose it and punch him.”  She looked through the window and watched Timmie leave the office.

Nick shook his head, “There’s going to be trouble over this.”

 

***

 

Dec. 19, 2012, 10:30 a.m.   – Sent Via Facsimile –

 

Nicholas Townsend, Principal

James Thomas High School

Re: Incident Report #326

 

Dear Principal Townsend:

 

As is the policy of the Mt. Rutgers City School Board, we have opened an investigation into an incident that has been reported to us. The Board received information that you struck a male student in your office on the morning of Dec. 17, 2012. Additional witnesses on the school staff have corroborated the account which was reported to the Board.

The School Board takes matters of this type very seriously. As you are aware, it is imperative that we investigate this matter thoroughly to determine what measures, if any, the Board would need to impose on those involved. The Board will convene a special session on or before Dec. 31, 2012 to do so.

It is our decision that you should take paid leave beginning at the end of the school day today and that you should remain on paid leave until the Board can convene its special session.

Thank you in advance for complying with this request and for not entering the school grounds of James Thomas High School after today. The Board will notify you of any additional actions it takes in regards to this matter. We thank you for your service to the Mt. Rutgers community.

 

Sincerely,

 

Dr. Samuel Ellison, President

Mt. Rutgers City School Board

 

 

III – Three Days Later

 

He’s jogging on an empty street. He extends his arms and his body rises. Three quick flaps of his arms and he is fifty feet above the road. He is flying, his favorite type of dream. He’s not in Mt. Rutgers. It appears to be somewhere warmer, palm trees below his feet. He flaps again, rising another ten feet. The sky is perfect, with small clouds floating above him, the sun warming his face and body. He flies over homes like the one he grew up in, red brick ranches built in the sixties and seventies, working class. He sees cars up on cinderblocks in driveways, dogs barking from behind rusted fences. Women are pushing strollers along the streets, waving to others on front doorsteps. He rises higher and twists his arms to change direction, flying towards a school building four blocks away. As he gets closer, the roof of the school appears to be gone, or is he just seeing through it? He watches children moving between classes. The cafeteria is full. He slows and banks to the left, towards the front. He sees the sign at the front of the school. Batistica Elementary.

No one notices him as he hovers above, but he sees them. Teachers pointing at whiteboards, smiling children, hands in the air, eager to answer. The school’s office buzzing, phones ringing. Underneath him, a man wearing camouflage clothing and carrying a black duffel bag is jogging towards the front door. He sees a gun holstered on the man’s belt. “Hey you!  What are you doing?” His voice is a whisper. He tries to lower himself, but the air now feels like syrup, he can barely move. “Stop!” No reaction.

He watches as the man enters a restroom inside the school, drops his bag, and pulls the zipper down to open it. The man covers his head with a stocking and removes two automatic weapons from the bag, slinging them over his shoulder. A person walks into the bathroom, maybe a teacher. The man shoots the teacher without hesitation. Nick pumps his arms, trying to get down. He lands on the school steps, shouting, but no one notices. He can see the office staff, frozen after hearing the shots, not certain what to do next.

His legs are pumping, trying to propel him towards the school door, but he feels as if he’s running on ice. Then pop-pop-pop-pop, like firecrackers, but he knows otherwise. He flaps his arms again, trying to get to the shooter. He screams.

 

“Mr. Nick. Mr. Nick, wake up. Wake up, Mr. Nick.”

“Huh? Eduardo? Am I at school?”

“Mr. Nick, I think you have been drinking again. I can smell it strong on you.”

“Damn, what time is it?”

“It is early, Mr. Nick. But you know that you can’t be coming to the school anymore. No one can see you here.” He sat up on the couch. His pants were wet.

“You smell like piss and tequila, just like my papa when I was a kid.”

“Eduardo, what time is it, really?” Nick massaged his temples and ran both of his hands through his hair.”

“It is only seven o’clock. But today is teacher workday, so no kids.”  Eduardo stood up and grabbed a chair. Turning it backwards, he sat down and crossed his arms on the chair back. “The teachers don’t come in so early on workdays. So there’s nobody here but you and me.”

“Hmm, that’s good. Damn, my head feels like I got hit with a baseball bat.”

“I know, I know. The tequila will do that. My papa would drink too much tequila, just like you, Mr. Nick. I would wake him up in the morning and he smelled like piss. In Juarez, many fathers drank the tequila and did not take care of their children. Good thing you got no children, Mr. Nick.”

“I never knew, Eduardo. I’m sorry that you grew up dealing with that.”

“Gracias, Mr. Nick. I turned out okay. I have a good job and I have my kids and my sweet wife.  I take good care of them and I stay away from the tequila.”

“Good man, good man.” He leaned back against the couch, lacing his fingers over his head.

“Mr. Nick, it’s no good that you are here at school. You shouldn’t come to your old office like this and sleep and piss on the couch.”

“You’re right about that, my friend. I don’t even know how I got in here.”

Eduardo pointed at an open window. “You came in through that window. But you shouldn’t be here, since the school board, they fired you.”

“I got suspended, not fired.”

“But Mr. Nick, this morning you come here and you do all this. The school board is not gonna like that you are here. Then they will fire you.”

“You’re right. Then I know you’ll keep this between you and me, okay?”

“You know me; I’m good at keeping secrets.” He drew his fingers across his closed lips and smiled. “My lips are sealed tight. I know that boy, that Laskin boy you hit. He is bad for this school. I know that he say things to you and not give you respect. I see him yell and hit on the smaller boys. He is no good, Mr. Nick. I think he should be the one who is fired from school, not a good principal like you.”

“Thanks, friend.” He tried to stand up, but fell back down on the couch. The room spun around him and when he closed his eyes, stars fluttered across his lids. Eduardo stood up and grabbed his arm.

“You stand up too fast, Mr. Nick. Your head is hurting bad, yes?”

He shook his head. “Yeah, it’s bad, but I’ll be fine.” Eduardo released his arm and moved his chair away from the couch.

“Mr. Nick, you can’t do this again. You want to come back to school and be principal, yes? All the people here, they want you to come back.”

“I’ll be back, Eduardo. Just gotta get this thing fixed. The school board knows I do a good job, that’s why they asked me to take over this school.” He stood back up and put his hand on Eduardo’s shoulder. “I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker, so I’m going to change. Do you mind cleaning up this couch for me?”

“No problem, Mr. Nick. I make it all clean for you.”

“Thanks, thanks for being a friend. And you’ll keep this little thing between us, right?”

“Yes, sir. Eduardo is good at keeping secrets.”

He changed clothes and walked out the front door of James Thomas High School into a chilly, but sunny morning. Time for coffee at Pat’s, eggs, and some aspirin. He patted his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. Shit, four messages from Gene. Didn’t need a lecture today. He tapped the voicemail button.

“Nick, you gotta call me. I heard what happened with the school board. Call me back. You know you want to talk to me. Don’t slide back, man.”

-Delete-

“Okay, it’s me again. Don’t piss me off by not calling me. You gotta buck the fuck up and not fall down again.”

-Delete-

“Hey man, you gotta call your buddy Gene. This is stupid. I’m worried about you. Don’t screw with your sponsor like this. I’m gonna rally some guys from the group and we’re coming over. You better be home.”

-Delete-

“Nick, you messed up. I came over at midnight and you were gone. Saw the bottle. Call me when you wake up. We can get this back on track. I’m here for—“

-Delete-

 

***

 

Pat’s coffee helped. He closed his eyes and leaned over the cup and inhaled.

“Suze, you got any aspirin under the counter?”

“Sure, Nick. Did ya have too much fun last night?” She smiled and brought out a large bottle of aspirin from under the counter.

“Nah, just a little stressed lately. I’m sure you heard.”

“Yep, sure did and I’m really sorry. You got plans?”

“I’ll get it fixed. Just lost my cool. I’ll work it out with the board.”

“I heard it was the Laskin kid. Is that right?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“He’s a bad egg, Nick. Just like the father. Can’t say as I blame you for hitting him based on what he did.”

“Thanks, Suze. Can’t have a principal doing what I did. It was a bad screw-up.”

“Maybe so.” A bell dinged. “Speaking of eggs, you’re up.” She picked up his plates and brought them to him. “Need anything else?”

“Hit me with another coffee, Suze.” A phone rang at the other end of the counter.

“Hold on, Nick. Be right back.” He broke the yolks with a corner of his toast and spooned bits of egg onto the toast. His stomach was settling. His head throbbed less. He turned to Suze, who spoke quietly while glancing towards him. She nodded and turned away when their eyes met. She returned with coffee.

“Someone’s looking for you.” She filled the cup. “Need any more cream?”

“I’m good, Suze. Guess that was Gene?” She nodded. He bit off the end of his toast.

 

***

 

“So, you couldn’t get away from me, huh?” Gene smiled and took the counter seat next to him. Nick stirred his coffee and didn’t look up. “Sure wish you’d call me first. Second time in the last year, dude. Why not ask for help?” Nick brought his finger to his lips and glanced down the counter at Suze serving two other customers. He nodded towards a booth, next to the window. He took his plate and coffee and moved there. Gene followed.

“Should’ve called you. Just felt like shit, like I was out of control again.”

“It happens to all of us. Me too, just not in the last seven years. But I think about it every day.”

“I don’t know, Gene. Last time was when Allison dumped me. It’s harder to control when the shit hits the fan. The crap with the school board, you know. I just sat around all day worrying. The bottle took control.” He held his cup up for Suze to see and then pointed to Gene. She brought a cup for him and filled both of them.

“It doesn’t happen if you call. You know you can call me anytime. Where did you end up?” He took a long sip of his coffee.

“On the couch in my office.”  Gene coughed and sprayed coffee on the table. “Or perhaps I should call it my former office.” Nick handed him a napkin.

Gene wiped up the spray, “You passed out in the school? Damn, man. You have got to buck the fuck up and get your shit together.” Suze looked up at them from a booth on the other side of the small diner. Nick smiled at her.

“Not so loud, huh?”

“Sorry,” Gene leaned forward. “Anyone see you?”

“Just Eduardo, the janitor.”

“Damn, that was lucky.

“Real lucky. Eduardo knows how to keep a secret. Especially for me ‘cause I’ve kept a few for him. He found me another time at the middle school, never said a word.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Most of the bottle.”

“Listen, Nick, you gotta see how bad this could’ve been.” He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the customers. “I don’t just mean fallin’ down again; I mean the job, the job you want to get back.” He tapped his finger on the table with each word. “You drink, you black out, and you wake up in the school where folks could’ve seen you—“

“Or smelled me.”

“Yeah, that too. Then the job is gone,” Gene snapped his fingers, “Poof.”

“You’re right. Damn Laskin kid. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Kid pushes my buttons.”

“The kid’s bad news, just like his dad. Stick’s crazier than a box of frogs.”

“Does he have some kind of label?”

“Don’t know what the exact label is, but the guy is certified crazy,” Gene smiled. “Reminds me of what my old granny use to say, ‘If you mix crystal meth and mental illness, some crazy shit’s gonna hit the fan.’”

“Funny. I guess your granny was way ahead of her time,” Nick took a long pull from his coffee.

“Yeah, she was. Especially since she died thirty years before this goddamn meth plague hit. That stuff has wrecked the lives of a lot good folks around here.”

“So you told me. I’m glad you locked him up. Especially after that bullshit he brought up about you stealing cash from him.”

Gene looked down at the floor and nodded. “You’re tellin’ me.”

“So I’m guessing he was a really shitty dad.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The guy was just tied up with his own problems. Still, the kid is heading down the wrong path, so you better be careful with him. Keep that in your thick, tequila drenched head.”

“I know. Got lucky. Won’t happen again.”

“But you know that it—”

“Okay, Gene, listen,” he put his elbows on the table, “I wanna pass on the lecture this morning. I deserve it, but I don’t have the head or the stomach for it.” He turned back to his plate and continued eating. Gene drained his coffee and held up his cup. Suze came over with the pot and refilled it. Nick waved her off his cup. “Gotta head out. I’ll take the check.”

“Nick, I got it. No lecture this morning. But I’m coming over tonight with some dinner. I’ll be at your place at six-thirty.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’ve got to—”

“Nonsense. I’ll be there. Don’t skip out on me again.” Gene stood to leave.

Nick reached for his elbow, “You know how you told me that story about how you could have crazy dreams when you tied one on?”

“Sure. Had some real doozies. Can still remember a few.”

“Well, sit down for another minute and listen to this, ‘cause it happened to me last night. I dreamed I was flying.”

Gene sat down, “You mean like flying a plane?”

“Nope. Flying like flapping my arms, except more like gliding. And it felt spectacular. I’ve had these flying dreams before, but this one was better.  I could really turn and rise and fall.

“Sounds like fun.”

“It was but it got weird.  I was flying over this elementary school and I could see everything going on inside the school.”

“How did you know it was an elementary school?”

“I flew over the sign at the front of the school. It said ‘Baptista’ or something like that.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Batistica, that’s it. Batistica Elementary. And it was warm and there were palm trees underneath me. Really beautiful. But all of a sudden, it got shitty. I watched this guy walk into the school with guns and I tried to yell to stop him. But it was like I was frozen because I couldn’t move toward him. Then the guy goes into a school bathroom, changes clothes. While he’s in there, a teacher walks in, and he shoots the teacher. God, it was terrible.”

“What happened after that?”

“Woke up.”

“Interesting. Flying through the air and then a school shooting. So you never had any kinda dream like that before?” Nick shook his head. Gene removed his John Deere cap and ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair. “Do you think the dream means anything?”

“I doubt it.”

“I’ve have dreams that are wild and crazy, especially after I had tied one on, but I’ve never had one where I was flying. Dreams are always screwy anyway because you can’t remember most of what happened.” He stood up.

“That’s for sure. Weird how that happens with dreams.”

Gene put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t forget about tonight. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks man.”

Continued….

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When His Dreams Take Flight

by Andy Holloman