Different colored minds

Earthquake

PAMELA POV

"I'm going to study in the library," I hear Joe say in passing as he hobbles down the hallway. He and Maverick are both going.

I'm walking down the hallway five minutes after that when I feel something deep in the ground. It must be an earthquake rippling through the old tiles. It ripples through my feet and then my legs. And then up through my arms.

There's screams coming from somewhere behind me. Someone bumps into me as they sprint by. Another person. Another. There's something sticky on my arm. I look down at a splotch of red on my skin. I slowly, ever so slowly turn around to see a wave of people are headed my way. There is the sound of something popping in the distance. I realize with tragic shock, I'm hearing a gun. I start running too. I feel my heart in my head. What's going on? where are they? What is it? What is this?

The school I went to in the jungle always sang this old hymn. Before we would sing it the teachers would tell us this was the last hymn five missionaries sang the morning before they were all brutally murdered trying to minister to a tribe that had never been able to hear the gospel before.

1 We rest on thee, our Shield and our Defender!
We go not forth alone against the foe;
strong in thy strength, safe in thy keeping tender,
we rest on thee, and in thy name we go;
strong in thy strength, safe in thy keeping tender,
we rest on thee, and in thy name we go.
2 Yea, in thy name, O Captain of salvation!
In thy dear name, all other names above:
Jesus our righteousness, our sure foundation,
our Prince of glory and our King of love,
Jesus our righteousness, our sure foundation,
our Prince of glory and our King of love.
3 We go in faith, our own great weakness feeling,
and needing more each day thy grace to know:
yet from our hearts a song of triumph pealing,
"We rest on thee, and in thy name we go";
yet from our hearts a song of triumph pealing,
"We rest on thee, and in thy name we go."
4 We rest on thee, our Shield and our Defender!
Thine is the battle, thine shall be the praise;
when passing through the gates of pearly splendor,
victors, we rest with thee, through endless days;
when passing through the gates of pearly splendor,
victors, we rest with thee, through endless days.

They loved the people they served. And after they were brutally murdered, their wives went back in to help the people who killed their husbands.

Their son is close friends with one of the men who killed his father.

God works through the horrible messed up things, and no matter what the devil throws my way I hope that I have the strength to see the good despite the circumstances.

There's a kid on the ground up ahead. He's surrounded in a pool of blood. I race over.
"Lean on me," I lace my arm around his side and begin running with him. Another student comes up behind me, coming to help the kid too.

We're all trying to get out alive.

And then like some horrible rib crunching punch I realize he's still in there. And he's too good to let other people die. He's going to try and be a hero. I already know he's depressed. He'd risk his life for someone. For anyone. I know his soul. He'd do anything.

My heart is in my throat. I dodge back around the onslaught of people racing down the hall. I can't hear my wheezy breathing over the sounds around the schools. There's more popping sounds. There's laughter somewhere. Not the right kind of laughter. Something sinister. Something deathly freakishly petrifying. The sounds are mixed with pops from the gun. Is this how Nate saint felt when he got slaughtered?

Like my head is finally above water. Like for once in my life I'm where I belong. Making sure others are okay.

My heart keeps throbbing through my bones but I don't care. I can do this.

Pop.

Pop.
Pop.

My heart is thudding too loud. I'm Two more hallways away from the library. I'm so close. But if he rounds either of those corners I'm a sitting duck. I need a plan. I have to think smarter not harder. He's bigger, he's stronger, and he has a gun. I can't think I'm not smart enough. This is my problem now. I made this my problem.

Pop. Pop.

It's getting closer.

Think smarter not harder. I just have to survive. Not not get shot. I've made it to the first hallway. I stop just behind the bend before peeking around it.

Empty.

I race into a classroom that has the door wide open. Backpacks litter the floor. Perfect. I grab a large one for my chest and my back. I just have to keep Good posture.
I stuff notebooks around my sides. Now I just have to cover my head.
And my stupid thigh arteries. Why am I such a lame target? Again. No time for this.

Pop.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

It sounds like it's almost near the door.
Come on think. I have to think.
He's checking each room. I've got time.
The door is made of metal. I have to close the guns into the door frame. The bullets will either richochet or hopefully go through something. I am not as strong as a boy so I need to find a way for him not to get in...

The muzzle of the gun peaks through the crack in the door.
Light streams through the crack to show an elongated shadow of a figure. I can do this. Even if I die. Even if I explode. God loves me. God has a good plan.

Slam. I slam the blue metal door against— but it's not the barrel of the gun the door is latched onto but a black booted foot. The rifle jitters in excited pandemonium. There's a cold laugh on the other side.
"Come out come out whoever you are," the voice says shooting through the hole.
God.
Help me.
I take the mechanical pencil in the side of the backpack and drive it into his foot.
His foot slidesout as I open the door slightly. In that split second I have a decision. Am I living for me, or others right now?

God, give me a way.

As the kid is doubled over the mechanical pencil jammed through the top of his foot i ram my body into him. The boy falls with the gun. As he's falling I fight to get the gun out of his hands. I kick and scratch and fight—and then we hit the ground. His skull hits first. He wasn't focusing on the fall, he was focusing on the gun. There's wine red bleeding out of his hair. I gulp.
His grip has gone slack on the gun.
I easily hold it in my hands now. I'm holding a gun. And he's not moving.
I place the gun far away from him and go to check his pulse. It's still there. I just need to save him. I have enough time to do this.

A hand clasps around my wrist, my palm is planted on the ground.
"Kill me," he moans.
I freeze and look back at him.
"I got myself into this," he continues. His hand is too tight on my wrist. I'm glad I got the gun away.
"Look, if anyone deserves to die here, it's me. I tipped off the office there were kids in the team smoking pot anonymously. Then I gave adrian a quick fix to get Steven conveniently in front of the security camera. Adrian has been eyeing the captain position since freshman year. It was easy as cake. The kid's depressed. He just wanted a friend. What a shame," and that's when it clicks. This bitch is stalling for his accomplice.

"I hope you live," I make a fist with the hand of the arm he's holding onto, grab my fist with my other hand and then yank.

I don't look back as I pelt down the hallway. I wonder if this is how a bunker feels.

And then I hear it. Another pop.

I turn my face slowly to wait for the boy to mow me down with bullets. He's still on the ground.

He's deadly quiet. Too quiet.

I race towards him but I don't need to get much closer to know what happened.

His brain matter is swimming in his hot sticky blood. I vomit on the spot.