In Too Deep(47)

I put the pistol in my bag and slung the rifle over my shoulder, knowing I couldn't shoot it very accurately. The shotgun though, at least I had a chance. I hoped Cam had left it loaded, but didn't know anything else as I left the house. Checking carefully out the front door, I didn't see anything. Wishing I had a garage to use like I'd had in Ohio, I dashed out the front door toward my car, hoping that nobody would see me. Thankfully, it seemed everyone was either obsessed with the shooting or were somehow otherwise tied up indoors. I set the rifle and shotgun in the back seat of my car and drove away, hoping to get away from the area as quickly as possible.

While I was driving, I pulled out my phone. I knew that Cam, even if he was okay, would likely be unable to talk. So instead of calling, I sent him a text message. Call me if you’re OK. I have our things safe, please tell me you are too. M.

I sent the message, praying that Cam would reply.





Chapter 28





Cam




I’d just finished taking attendance for fourth period, the class that I disliked most on the day. It wasn't the subject matter, I don't care if we're discussing the finer points of Dickens or conjugating verbs. What made me struggle with this group was the students themselves. It was a remedial class. That in itself isn't a problem, as I had another remedial class that was fine. But this group was the localized group of near drop-outs who were doing nothing more than marking time until they were old enough to leave school and not get chased back in by the cops.

Teaching the class was like pulling teeth, with the occasional breakup of a potential fight thrown in for entertainment. Half of the class could barely read past a third grade level, and the biggest challenge was just trying to get them past their own egos and insecurities to see that actually learning how to be functional in English was essential. Oh, and that the word f*ck is not required in every other sentence to be understandable English.

"All right guys, so before we begin, tell me who actually took the time to read their assignment?"

"Man, I ain't got time for that f*cking bullshit," Tony Castillo in the back said. There were a few laughs, and Tony grinned at me in a challenge.

"You didn't have time for it because you can't f*cking read, bitch," Dwayne Holdings up front taunted him. "Since Swag up here took out the pictures, you didn't realize he was asking you to read last month's f*cking Iron Man."

"Yo, f*ck you!" Tony shot back, and I held up my hands, stepping into the aisle in between them before it could escalate.

"Dwayne, you're right and wrong. First, you're right in that I had Mrs. Baker transcribe the book for me, I think she probably had her students do it. But there's no need for taunting Tony, and both of you, watch the f*cks, okay?"

"No problem, man. From now on, I give zero f*cks," Tony replied, earning a laugh. I had to admit, the kid knew how to play with meanings, and it was a decent joke. I let it drop. I’d learned to let a little slide with this group. If not, nothing would ever get done.

"Well, in that case, Tony, take a look at the overhead if you don't mind," I continued. "I took the liberty of formatting the text and scanning the comic you were assigned to read. But, I took out the text itself, so now we've only got pictures. All right, everyone, we're going to go together through the book, each of us being the voices of the various characters. Dwayne, since you apparently read the assignment, I'm giving you the biggest . . .”

My instructions were interrupted as the school's alarm went off, followed immediately by the three beeps that sent chills down my spine. The three beep alarm was implemented the year before and meant one thing. School shooter.

"Everyone down, under the desks!" I called, going to the door. I threw the lock and shoved the bookshelf in front of it. Frankly, it sucked as an effective barrier, but it was better than nothing. "We've got a gunman on campus."

"How the f*ck do you know that? I ain’t heard no shots!” someone behind me called, and I didn't have a chance to answer when we heard a few pops, sounding ridiculously quiet and innocent considering the deadly intent, rattled off somewhere in the school. "Never mind."

It was perhaps the one blessing of having the students I did for that period. Fifteen boys, ten of them known gang members, and almost all of the students coming from backgrounds where gunfire was unfortunately all too common. There was none of the panic I could’ve expected from my fifth period class, an Honors English group that was mostly girls from the 'good families' in town.

Instead, when I glanced back, I saw every student crouched down, their eyes on the narrow window that gave us some view of the hallway. They were quiet, tense and ready to move as soon as they thought it was safe. If we hadn't been on the second floor of the building they probably would have already been out the window that gave us a decent view of the outside. I reached next to the door and flipped the switch on the intercom, connecting me to the office as we'd drilled.

Unfortunately, the office was in a lot more uproar than my class. There were screams and yelling, while we could hear as reports from other classes filtered through second hand. Someone was crying, and I could only hope there was someone in the office who was still in control of their senses. "Swagger here. Room secure."

Another couple shots shattered the air, and I heard a few of the students whimper in fear. This wasn't the uncontrolled shooting they'd maybe heard in a gang fight or the single spurt of someone messing around near an arroyo showing off or even practicing. It was controlled, disciplined, and repeated. I knew what it was.