Chapter Six

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"Well, well, well. I didn't know they made teachers as pretty as you."

My skin crawls. The smoke slowly fades revealing the two figures in masks. I feel my heart speeding as I try to find something inside of me to anchor me down. But I'm so weak. I want to lay down. Rest.

I have to stand and pray that I can waste enough time to get 118 in here.

"Hi," my face somehow manages to smile. I sway unrhythmically, "what's going on, boys?"

The man in the white horse mask laughs, the one in the brown horse mask lifts a pistol and points it at me. "It's a shame I have to ruin that pretty face of yours," he says, "but I'd be lying if I said it didn't really turn me on thinking about your brains painting the walls red."

"Now hold on there, son. How long do you think we've got before cops show up?" 

"Cops?" He sneers. "Don't you remember? They can't call 9-1-1. We took care of that."

"Don't be stupid, cops will always come. You don't think someone heard the bombs? You don't think one of these idiots called someone?"

"Then let's finish her off quickly and get out of here." He takes aim again, zeroing in on me. My heart hicuups inside my chest. I need a miracle.

"Ms. Peters!" Ian screams at the top of his lungs. The gunman loses focus enough for me to spring into action. I jam the scissors it into his neck sending him howling backwards. He drops the pistol and crawls at the scissors vocalizing his agony as loud and painfully as he can. 

His friend reacts slowly. Dismay renders him usesly, and he clumisily reaches for his shotgun. I'm like a wild animal. Desperate and trapped. I grab him by the arm and pull him into me. As soon as he's on top of me, I bite down as hard as I can on the fatty part where his neck meets his shoulder. My teeth sink into his flesh easily. I feel him fighting to get away from me. It's his own mistake, the harder he fights the deeper I latch on. The metallic taste of blood welds up in my mouth until finally he suceeds. He rips away leaving a chunk of his flesh in my mouth. 

I spit it out and scream at the kids to run as he slaps his palm over the wound. Edward Scissor hands finally manages to remove the scissors from his neck and cup his hand around the wound tossing them metal item aside. "You bitch!" He gnashes his teeth and stumbles towards me. I shove him, sending him back into the wall. I grab the gun from the ground and fire off a round at his chest. He falls limp. Ian and Lydia peek out of hiding. Mateo starts stemming, squawking and making excited noises in the background. 

They're too overstimulated. Without someone giving them definitive instructions, they can't move. 

"Christopher!" I shriek. "Christopher! I need you to be a hero! Like your father! Get your friends out of here! Now!"

Both men are strapped. There's no telling what kind of weapons they have on them. In their backpacks. Attached to their belts and ankles.

They've clearly been planning on this for a long time. They actually want to see people suffer. Children suffer.

I pray to God Chris hears me and leaps into action. I pray he can get the rest of his friends away from these maniacs.

If my internal clock is anywhere near working, his dad should be here in less than two minutes.

That's all they need.

Two minutes.

Shotgun guy leaps on top of me. My whole body collapses underneath his weight. The gun wavers from my grip. I want to take another shot, but I can't risk hitting one of the kids. From where I'm positioned, belly to the floor man on top of me, there's no telling where my shot will go. 

And then he starts hitting me. Wailing on my head. Punching and punching.

Elbowing as hard as he can.

"Let's go, Mateo! Come on, follow me!" Chris' sweet voice calls out to his friends. 

Shotgun guy is too busy paying me back for his new neck job to notice the kids slipping away. I hear Chris call out everyone's name, making sure they're all doing what they should as I scream for them to lock themselves in the classroom.

When I'm sure they're safely out of the way, I grip the gun as hard as I can and start trying to reel my arm at him.

I close my eyes and squeeze the trigger.

One more horrible shot rings out.

The pounding on my head ceases.

He slide right off my back.

I go limp.

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