Bruce helped me to my feet and handed me a wad of gauze bandage. "The truck is right outside."
I grimaced as I pressed the wad against my arm. I could hear movement in the hallways, and I saw that the cops and staff were leading evacuations. I nodded to myself, gladdened that things weren’t as bad as they could’ve been. Except for the two rooms I'd passed, I saw normal-looking groups of students, scared out of their minds, but normal-looking. Most of the rooms on the first floor didn't have anyone coming out, and I assumed that the students had done what I'd expected mine to do if we'd been on the first floor, bailing out the windows.
I was getting ready to walk out when the teacher in the room next to mine, Bonnie Roberts, came down the narrow stairway, leading her class and mine. She stopped, seeing the nearly decapitated body of the second gunman, shrieking. Dwayne, who'd been right behind her, took it more in stride. "Swag, you did that?"
I looked up at him, ignoring him and speaking to Bonnie. "Take them out the other stairwell. Everyone up and out the other side of the building."
Dwayne flashed me a thumbs up in approval, turning around. "All right, you heard Swag. Let's get our asses up the stairs and down the other fucking way."
"You don't need the fuck, Dwayne," I chided. Bonnie shook her head to clear her mind, and I had to give her credit. Not a lot of people can see a dead body for the first time and not lose it at least a little bit. She turned as well, adding her voice in helping Dwayne get the two classes up the stairs and out of the building.
"Your class, huh?" the cop said, looking at me and then up the stairs. I understood, he had to stay at the scene and secure evidence. "Interesting group."
"They're a unique bunch," I admitted. "Listen, I know you've got procedures, but can I go out to the truck and get this bandaged? I know what Bruce said, but you're the man in charge of the scene."
The cop nodded. "Just stay on school grounds. If you run into another medic or a doc who has the time, maybe get treated at the office instead of outside."
"I will," I said. I left the scene behind, trying to calm my nerves. I had to think, and I knew the first thing I had to do was get in contact with Melina. While Pinzetti may have attacked the school, the fact was there may have been more men in his group, and Albertine had to be secured.
After that, I could worry about my damn arm.
Chapter 30
Melina
I drove north, simply because the last time someone had attacked me and Cam, we were south of Truth or Consequences, and I didn't feel like pressing my luck a second time even if it was illogical superstition. I checked my gas gauge and saw that I at least had a half a tank of gas. I pressed on, heading north up I-25, wondering where I should try and hold up. I couldn't just run, there was no reason to. At the same time, I didn't feel safe staying anywhere near the Truth or Consequences area.
I wasn't a warrior, I knew that. While Cam told me he knew how to handle himself, and I'd at least seen him hold a pistol, I hadn't fired a gun bigger than a light pistol at an arcade against a bunch of zombies. Not exactly what you would call premier training for the situation I was in.
I saw a truck stop up ahead, and noticed that I was approaching the town of Belen. While it wasn't exactly huge, I figured it was public enough that I could stay relatively safe, as even in the middle of the day I could see at least a dozen big rigs parked outside a truck stop just off the Interstate.
I pulled in and filled up my tank, just out of habit. Going inside, I found that the truck stop was one of those full-service type places, having not only gas and a mini-market but even showers and a little cafe. I went over and ordered a coffee, hoping the staff wouldn't mind me crashing in one of the three booths for as long as it took for me to figure out my next move.
I sat there, nursing the coffee along, trying not to freak out. The television over the counter was turned to the news, this time, the Albuquerque ABC station. "Can you turn it up?" I asked the waitress. I really didn't want to know, I feared the worst, but I had to. "Please, I’m from T or C."
"Sure," the waitress said. "You got any kids in that school?"
I shook my head. "No."
The waitress nodded and turned up the volume, handing me the remote before going over to a trucker who wanted a grilled cheeseburger. Fearfully, I listened in, worry twisting its way through my guts like a boa constrictor.