Our team of three men move into position, following the plan they have devised to the letter. Training over the past month, they now move like automatons without thought. Two men remain at the doorway covering my user, waiting for the authorities and special forces that will be at most only minutes away. This is a tragic reminder, a shocking sign of the violent times that even the innocent children live in today.
I can feel my wearer enraged that the mother and child have escaped him. His waves of anger palpable. They rise off him like steam from a kettle, his anger boiling over. I know that he means to track them down, their escape only temporary. He reaches the front doorway as sirens can already be heard over the screams. Crossing the threshold, he enters a long hallway with doors opening on the left and right ending in a stairwell. An elderly teacher with horn rimmed glasses emerges from the first door on the left. My wearer, without breaking stride, raises the AK and squeezes the trigger. Unlike the mother and daughter this time there is no jam, no escape for the elderly teacher. The sound is deafening as the AK bucks and spits out death. The machine gun screams with delight as the bullets rip through the teacher.
The school alarm system now mixes with the approaching sirens creating a surreal harmonized melody. The sound of the doors locking reverberate over the sirens echoing down the empty hallway.
There is no way for him to know which way the mother and daughter have gone. Yet somehow my wearer walks rapidly toward the stairwell. He has broken the plan, he senses they have headed up the stairs, he believes they have cheated death and he will find them.