With the length of time I’d waited for an opportunity, I was going to take what I could get. My heart pounded, my hands shook even as I gripped the gun as hard as I could, but I let out a slow breath as I drew myself smoothly to a standing position and stepped into the doorway, pointing the gun through the window frame in the door.
Good luck. You can do this.
Let’s hope whoever is coming doesn’t interfere.
They hadn’t heard me move. It left me a second to take in the scene and make sure I was shooting the right people.
They were in a music room that had been arranged with seats on a series of ascending platforms, backed by windows that had exploded inward, scattering the area with glass shards. At the bottom ‘floor’, there was a podium waiting for the teacher. Jack was walking up the steps to approach a girl.
Ah, I guess that might be the footsteps she heard.
I knew he was Jack because he was the only male present. He was wreathed in thin white smoke, wore a light gray t-shirt marked with blood stains and black jeans tucked into cowboy boots.
Nice outfit. The cowboy boots really make the look.
A thick leather belt had a variety of knives, including a butcher’s cleaver, a stiletto and a serrated blade.
‘Course, can’t forget the blades.
So what’s the difference between different types of knives when Jack uses them? I suppose the extended slice of the knives might be sharper with some, and the serrated ones might continue the serration, making the wounds look accordingly…
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