Page 149 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
I know immediately that the sound of the first one was Bernadette.
I crawl as quickly as I can, finding the vent cover closest to where I heard the sound of the first howl, and then I carefully lift it up so that I can pull it into the ceiling with me. Lying on my back, I lean my head out of the hole so I can see what’s going on before I drop down.
Yes, I’m upside down, but I can see everything I need to see from here without having to put myself in an awkward position. That, and I know that to anyone looking, I’m scary as fuck.
There, in the middle of the turmoil, is Bernadette. She has eight gunmen facing her from the north end of the hall while she grapples with a ninth.
She can’t possibly understand how I feel about her, that much I do know. And the reason for that is, she lives for so much more than just herself. She has dreams, even if she won’t admit them. Dreams of poetry and travel and discovery. When I lost the ability to dance, I felt like I lost everything that made me human.
Everything but for Bernadette, the childhood flame that roared inside my cold heart like an inferno. There were shadows everywhere, but there was at least one light. That light is her for me, the only source of illumination in a tired soul.
I reach up and grab the pistol that’s taped to the ductwork above my head, using my feet to brace myself as I take the two easiest shots. In the ensuing turmoil, I roll onto my belly and use my arms for leverage to lower myself out of the hole.
This is almost fun. Or it would be, if Bernie wasn’t in danger.
An unwanted laugh slips from my throat as I drop down into a crouch and lift the pistol at the same time, taking aim and firing at the back of one man’s head before I even stand up fully.
As I rise from my crouch, I take aim at another.
Bernie is quick though, using the time I’ve just bought her to get outside of the school. She’s either fleeing or going for the guns we’ve left taped to the underside of one of the dumpsters. I’m betting on the latter. Bernadette is not a woman who runs from scary situations. She might have a heart that’s too big and too kind for this world, but she does not run.
She is not a coward.
The remaining men take their shots at me, but I duck into one of the alcoves and then hit my fist against the door behind me in a very distinct rhythm. One of our crew opens it up, letting me in and then relocking it just as fast.
There’s a window in here that already has the iron bars on the outside of it bent apart far enough to accommodate a person of my height and weight. I know there is because Havoc is the one who made it that way.
I shoot the window out as most of the Prescott students in the room scream. But that’s okay, I’m used to people screaming. They don’t factor at all into my movements as I hop outside and start running toward the front of the school, rounding the corner just in time to see Bernadette on the ground in front of James Barrasso.
One of the cars across the street explodes in a violent plume of orange and red, drawing the man’s attention. Seconds later, another vehicle explodes. And then another.
Yep, definitely Hael’s handiwork.
Bernadette is up and on her feet in a second, sprinting around the corner of the school toward the delivery door that leads to the cafeteria, the very spot where we’ve stashed some of our weapons. I follow after her, pausing to unload the magazine into the backs of the men chasing after James.
Several of them turn and take cover, forcing me to stop and do the same.
Gunfire fills the air in a violent and seemingly endless wave, but I stay where I am, crouched down behind a massive piece of tree trunk, some old growth monster that was put here when the school was built to be used as a sign. It once said Prescott High, Home of the Loggers on a decorative plaque affixed to the front. Now it says Home of the Floggers which is almost as accurate.
I don’t move, reserving the remaining rounds in the gun for shots I think I can actually make.
Once they realize I’m not returning fire, my attackers stop and conserve their own ammo. Crouching low, I stand up and dart back around the side of the school in the opposite direction from Bernadette. It’s the only way I’m going to get back into the building itself with so many members of the GMP lurking around.
