Chapter 18
The two escapees had lodged themselves in an old, abandoned shed.
It was almost unnoticeable from the outside with tall weeds and no windows.
Obviously untouched for years. Perfect. Hank peered out of a large crack in the wall.
He leaned back against the wall and took another tug from the bottle he had bought at the liquor store before holing up.
It had been easy to hot-wire an unlocked late model sedan. They had surveyed the area and found the shed a quarter mile from Jason’s school. After stopping at the mini-mart for supplies, they parked the sedan on a side street and wiped it down for fingerprints before slinking back to their hideout.
Hank looked over at Carlo, who was ravenously attacking a pre-packaged sandwich and shoveling chips into his mouth.
Carlo hadn’t wanted any of the whiskey Hank had bought but seemed more interested in food, a frosty can of Coke, and smokes.After Carlo finished the meal, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a sigh of pleasure.
Hank marveled at the sheer luck that this young man, Carlo, happened to be his roommate, and held the same amount of hate and resentment toward Jason as he did.
He took a few more tugs on the bottle, then screwed on the cap.
“Let’s go,” Hank grunted and stood to his feet.
“Old man, I don’t know if you’re ready. Aren’t you a little boozed up?” With a lightning-fast movement, Hank had Carlo’s t-shirt fisted in one hand while the other was poised to punch. Carlo held his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go. If they haven’t changed the passcode in the receiving dock area next to the cafeteria, I can get us in.”
“Let’s roll.” Hank replied in a cold, steel tone. They put the correction officers’ uniforms back on and stalked their way to Greystone.
Back at the school, everyone was on edge.
An hour had passed since the lock-down, and the SWAT team was at the ready.
They had covered the grounds and were releasing students and their teachers one classroom at a time into a waiting bus with armed guards.
Then, they were whisked away to a safe place and reunited with their terrified but relieved parents.
More than half of the school had been evacuated.
Ashley was behind a locked door with the special education teachers and students, waiting for handicap accessible buses to arrive and transport them.
They could hear loud banging sounds and harsh, gruff yells to ‘open up’ echo the school corridors.
The classroom lights were off and the door locked.
The darkness of the room heightened the tension.
Carlo and Hank had moved unnoticed next to the dock entry at the back of the school before the lockdown and chaos began.
Carlo wrapped his second and third fingers in a wish-me-luck gesture and punched four digits into the code box.
The security light on the pad turned from red to green.
Hank gave him a sinister smile. He pulled out his Glock, took off the safety, and motioned for Carlo to lead.
They prowled down a long hallway. Hank kicked in one classroom door after another, only to find them empty.
With a cunning look, he tilted his head toward the sound of screams in a classroom at the end of the hall.
He signaled to Carlo. “That way. Let’s go. ”
“I think that’s them.” Ashley looked over at the lead teacher, Rachel, a middle-aged woman with years of teaching experience and mother of three.
Rachel stage whispered, “It sounds like they’re trying to break into classrooms, one by one.”
Ashley ordered in an authoritative tone, “Let’s move all the children to the back side wall.
Out of the way of the door, toward the closet.
” The teachers, classroom aids, and Ashley grabbed the backs of the wheelchairs and positioned the children out of direct line of sight of the door.
They stood in front of the children, forming a human shield. The banging sounds grew louder.
“They’re getting closer. Get ready.”
“Nurse Ashley,” one of the students called out.
“I want to go home. I want my mom.” She kneeled next to the little girl, strapped into her custom-fitted wheelchair with tears filling up her doe-like eyes.
The child’s tone became louder and shriller with each plea.
Ashley wrapped her arms around her and tried to console her, but it seemed to only aggravate her.
The adults locked eyes, fear on their faces that the noise would draw the shooter.
Other children became agitated and began to cry out.
Soon, the entire room was filled with screams. The door handle began to rattle.
Ashley stood, walked to the front of the classroom, facing the door, and unholstered her weapon.