Recycle - 8. Chapter 8

“I’ll bet this isn’t what the shooter expected,” Elena offered at the lunch meeting.

“No, but we should’ve predicted it,” Don replied laughing, “when the UMass frat guys started shooting at each other.”

“On this scale?” Rob asked.

“No, this is craziness,” Jae told them. “I’ve never seen it this bad.”

“But it’s probably harmless,” the UMass officer told Elena when he alerted her. “And it will probably stop after the weekend. But you still should get over here. At least, it’s not paintball or the guys in maintenance would all have heart attacks.”

“Actually, they tried paintball first,” another officer told Elena, when she was in Amherst. “We stopped that – really fast.”

“So they’re just shooting foam bullets?” she asked.

“Nerf darts,” the officer corrected, as he showed her one he picked up off the grass. They were everywhere.

“Can they only be used once?” she wondered.

“No... the more industrious kids scavenge them and resell them for a penny a piece, hundred to a bag. The cheapest you can buy them online or at someplace like Target is a nickle each.”

“And they fit an air gun?”

“You need to learn the right terms,” the officer joked. “Nerf Blaster – though they’re made by a lot of companies.” He brought up pictures on his phone. “The cheapest is about six bucks, but they go up to a hundred, with – literally – bells, whistles, sirens, flashing lights, and the ability to shoot multiple shots at once. The guys all aim for right below the belt, and fifty of those hitting you in ten seconds can seriously set back your Friday night.”

“But they don’t do any real damage?”

They officer laughed. “I’m not dim enough to offer myself as test dummy.”

Laughing was pretty much what everyone was doing. “Blaster Wars,” they were called, or “Nerf Nerds,” or simply “Nerfing,” and the guys fought on the wide campus lawns of the university. People would stand by and yell, “Good one!” “Get him again!” “Lower! Lower!”

“It doesn’t help that it’s football season,” Elena reported. “And everyone’s hyped.”

“I should get over there,” Rob kidded. “Maybe bring my son’s Blaster.” Then he added, “Should I bring it here? For a demonstration?”

“Thanks, but I watched the guys shoot,” Elena assured him. “Then I stood in the toy aisle at Walmart for an hour, looking these things over.”

“Are they just cheap, plastic air guns?” Owen asked. “I used to know but forgot.”

“That’s what I thought they were,” Elena replied. “But some of them have motors, for quicker response.”

“But they can’t hurt?” Owen wanted to be reassured.

“Not really,” Rob vouched. “That’s the great thing... you can let kids shoot at each other for hours, at close range, and not worry. But there’s also a whole line of really cool safety glasses, and you know how kids like dressing like superheroes. They put on their magic glasses and shoot the hell out of each other.”

“They guys at UMass aren’t wearing protection,” Elena added.

“I wouldn’t expect them to,” Jae said grinning. “That’s why they’re from UMass.”

Everyone laughed at that.

“So we don’t have to take this seriously?” Owen tried to confirm.

“The campus police have it under control,” Elena guaranteed him. “Reasonably.”

“And there’s no connecting this to our shooter?” Don asked.

“None that I can see,” Elena replied. “Not a Recycle stencil anywhere – at least not connecting to the darts. “I did see a couple of homemade logos on T-shirts and some amateur arm tats..”

“Any news from our shooter at all?” Ike questioned.

“It seems to be standing by and seeing what other people will do,” Elena said. “The Nerfing hasn’t spread from UMass, though there have been a couple of videos. But they didn’t go viral – or close.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t change,” Owen said.

It didn’t – in one way. But Elena quickly discovered there was one person who didn’t like the new development – the original shooter.

“It’s not that it’s bad publicity,” she reported. “It’s none at all – not the tiniest mention of recycling. And I think it wants attention.”

“How can you tell?” Ike asked.

She showed them a photo – a full color printout. “This came in this morning from the UMass cops.”

The picture showed a guy’s chest with a big circle painted on it – probably eight inches across. In its center was the word Recycle.

“Henna?” Owen asked.

“It’s black, so it might also be marker.”

“Permanent?’ Jae asked.

“Even they wash off,” Elena reminded everyone, “and there are ways to speed henna – baking soda and lemon juice.”

“When did the guy report it?” Don asked.

“Last night. He was walking back from the library – it stays open late – heading to one of the student parking lots a quarter mile away. He felt the dart but didn’t see anyone, but he also said there wasn’t much light and weren’t a lot of people on that side of campus. But he remembered what we’d said and got himself to safety – at least, he thought he did.”

“Sounds like you’ve talked with him,” Ike said.

“For a half hour. The campus police gave me his number.”

“And?”

“He also remembered to get angry... but at that hour, he didn’t want to make a lot of noise. So he growled and grunted every curse word that could get him arrested.”

They appreciated that.

“And he got to his car and locked himself in... figuring that was safe. But he didn’t want to drive... not till he saw what was going to happen... And he was fighting passing out... yelling now, and banging his fists on his knees and the steering wheel. He thought about calling the police... or the campus police... but didn’t want to look like a jerk if nothing happened.”

“He was a jerk,” Rob confirmed.

Elena nodded then went on. “Finally, he knew he’d passed out. But as he started to, he reclined his driver’s seat to at least be comfortable. He wasn’t worried because he was inside and safe.”

“I take it he wasn’t?”

“Well, here’s the funny thing... you know how hard it is to break into newer cars – anything electronic that doesn’t have crank windows. But the guy’s fob was on his dashboard – just in front of the passenger seat – and the shooter simply cut the plastic trim on the fake vent window up front and slipped out the glass.”

“So we now have breaking and entering,” Owen added.

“There’s more,” Elena continued. “This time, the shooter opened the guy’s jacket and shirt, pushed up his T, and stenciled this large tattoo on his chest. Then it shifted the guy to his passenger seat, drove to a dark part of the campus police parking lot, set off the car alarm, and left.”

“There’s got to be footage of that,” Owen insisted. “They’ve got more cameras around their station than we do.”

“There’s footage,” Elena confirmed, “but it’s blurry – and it’s only a couple of seconds.” She showed them another photo. “That’s the best frame they could get.”

“Could be almost anyone,” Jae appraised. “Average size... Dark jeans and a hoodie... With the hood up, blocking the face.”

“Plus, it’s hard figuring out heights in that light.”

“Compare it to the car,” Don suggested.

“Even so... the camera’s shooting from above their second floor windows. The angle throws perspective.”

“Is the student pressing charges?” Owen asked.

“He thinking about it,” Elena said. “Like all the rest, he actually thinks it’s cool.”

“And the damage to his car?” Owen pursued.

“Nothing duct tape won’t fix. It’s a useless window.”

Owen laughed then considered. “We need to let the TV and Internet people know. I’ll simply tell them that – after a two-week lull – the shooter’s active again.”