He was a motherfucker.
On this thought, something exploded.
Unh-hunh.
Exploded.
Too late, I put my hands to my ears (because explosions were loud) and leaned forward, because even if there was no destruction where we were, some dust rained down on us, and I actually felt the concussion of the blast.
Once I recovered from the shock, I saw Mr. Chambers was up.
So I got up.
He saw me get up, so he shoved some papers aside on the desk and there was a gun.
He went for the gun.
I went for it too.
We scrambled for it.
I didn’t get it, but I managed to swipe it off to the side with enough force, it clattered to the floor and skidded under a table by the wall.
Okay, that went all right. At least I wasn’t going to be the next one filled with holes or held over Knox because his dad had a gun to my head.
I heard shouts and the exchange of gunfire, and it freaked me, like a whole lot, but I couldn’t focus on it because Mr. Chambers was coming at me.
I let him.
When he got close, he made a grab at me.
I did the same to him.
His shoulders.
That steadied me so I could put full force behind kneeing the shit out of his groin.
I made impact and did it hard.
He groaned, his hands went there, he sank to his knees, and I twisted, took hold of the chair I’d been sitting in and smashed it against his side.
He fell to his other side.
That was when I raced to the table, dropped to my knees, did a ducking skid under it, grabbed the gun on my way and hunkered down, gun aimed out.
More shouts, more gunfire, and a pounding up the metal steps.
Someone was coming.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
More gunfire.
Fuck.
There was movement at the door.
I aimed the gun there.
