In Too Deep(48)

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. While I couldn't know for sure, there was a chance that I'd drawn Victor Pinzetti to me, the man pushed over the edge by my use of Albertine on him. If I caused this, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive myself. If it wasn't him, then things were still bad, and I couldn't stay in the room any longer. "Dwayne, Tony."

"Yeah?" both answered, looking up at me nervously. I noticed that Tony had flipped his desk over, putting the desktop between him and the door. A good idea, though pretty useless overall.

"Keep everyone in here. Lock the door behind me."

Tony didn't move, but Dwayne came up next to me, helping me move the bookshelf out of the way while still staying crouched. "You sure about this?"

I nodded. "Don't worry. After all, if I get shot, who's going to bust your ass over your homework?"

"Shit man, you're the only teacher who gives me homework that I might actually do once in a while," Dwayne whispered back.

I clapped him on the shoulder, unlocking the door. It was quiet outside, and I opened the door quickly to look out. The hallways were clear, but there was still a lot of screaming coming from what sounded like to my left, maybe on the first floor. "Here I go."

I ran out into the hallway, pausing only to listen as Dwayne closed the door and threw the deadbolt behind me. I was alone in the halls, in a surreal setting where everything looked peaceful, but only just around the corner death could be waiting for me. Saying a quick prayer to whatever deities were listening, I headed off in that direction.





Chapter 29





Cam




Making my way down the empty linoleum-tiled school hallway, I wondered exactly what the hell I was doing. Here I was, unarmed, wearing jeans and a polo shirt for Christ's sake, and I was making my way down a hallway toward an armed gunman.

If that wasn't bad enough, I knew from the sounds that this wasn't some psycho with a f*cked up grudge. I had a feeling that this was an organized professional, with one purpose and one purpose only, to draw me out and to kill me. It was Pinzetti, I was sure of it. I only hoped that he was just shooting at walls to draw me out, and not at anyone else. Pinzetti was a trained government assassin, and I shouldn't have been going the direction I was going. I should have been high-tailing it for the parking lot, getting away and back to my house where the real target of his search, the Albertine laptop, was waiting. The safety of the whole world depended on that laptop. I should’ve been thinking about the big picture.

But damn it, sometimes the big picture pales in comparison to the small things. It's those small things that make us human, and separate us from the animals. We try and protect the helpless victims sometimes, even when it pisses in the face of the big picture. It was what drove me on, my eyes glancing left and right as I approached the stairwell to the first floor. I wasn't worried about the students in the other classrooms, they were following procedures and staying down. After Sandy Hook, every teacher was trained in what to do, and we drilled on it every semester. Those teachers who had a chance were keeping their classes under control.

Instead, I was looking for a weapon or at least something that I could use to distract the gunmen. From the sounds I could hear coming from the first floor, there were at least two of them. I'd been trained to handle more than that, but that was when I had at least a pistol to do something with. Passing the copy machine room, I saw something that gave me a sense of hope. Despite the huge insurance liability issues, the school had a few of the old-fashioned style paper cutters. Made in the seventies or eighties, the huge, heavy steel blade partnered with a solid aluminum handle that practically sliced through the paper for you, it was so heavy. More than once I'd seen students playing around by putting pencils under the blade and dropping the cutting arm, seeing if they could chop the pencil in half, sending one end flying for distance. I’d argued that the room should’ve been locked from student access, but thankfully that day the door was left wide open.

I worked quickly, using a mathematical compass' needle tip to pull the cotter pin on the cutting arm. From there removing the retaining nut was easy, and I had something. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Still feeling like a man who brought a knife to a gun fight, I headed out and left the copy room, making my way down the stairs.

As I reached the first floor, I heard the first sirens coming from outside and knew the police were approaching. The sound scared the hell out of me, honestly. I knew that Pinzetti wouldn't hold back any longer, pushing his pace in order to find me before the cops could establish a presence in the building. There was also the fact that I knew the local cops, and that worried me as much. They weren't prepared for this sort of thing, and instead of having two armed gunmen in the school, we'd probably end up with the police too, most of them with itchy trigger-fingers. The death toll could be tremendous. I didn't have much time.

The hallway was clear, but I could see where the gunmen had shot, bringing gorge to my throat.

The first body I passed was face down, three holes in the back, a mass of black hair and khakis that seemed to be in the middle of a slowly spreading pool of crimson ooze. Thankfully it wasn’t a student, but still horrible nonetheless. I hadn't seen a dead body in a long time, and I could’ve gone a lot longer without it. I was thankful when the old sense of disconnect I'd developed in my intelligence days dropped over my emotions. There'd be a purging of the horror inside me later, but for the immediate future, I could operate.