Everything was fine today until that strange man come to campus.
I breathed in the crisp, cool, autumn air. I checked my watch. 7:50. The trees were as red and orange as the sunset. The campus site was beautiful. I walked into our school, Lincoln Middle School and headed straight for my first period, which was math. There I met my best friend, Bill.
Now, Bill was a funny guy. He was only five feet tall with black hair and sort of chubby. He was always cracking jokes, keeping me in a good mood.
“And that, class, is the magic of the five-step problem solving method. Isn’t it just fascinating?” My math teacher marveled in his nasal voice.
Just when I thought the period would never end, the bell rang with a loud and clear sound, like a church bell. I wasn’t in any rush, so I turned my head to say bye to Bill when I saw a stranger. He was wearing all black and had sunglasses over his eyes. He was hanging around the lower field and had a huge bag on his back. I figured that he was harmless, since he was looking around like he was lost. Soon, I figured that I was wrong.
“And this is why cells are important in our life,” concluded Ms. M, the teacher.
I was stuck in 3rd period science. Listening to Ms. M was like watching paint dry. Bill made faces at me, mimicking the teacher, trying to make me laugh. But for once, I didn’t laugh (even though it was quite funny); instead I thought about the strange man I saw. Who was he, anyway? And what, exactly, was he doing in a middle school? I shook off the eerie feeling and got to work taking notes on Ms. M’s lecture, against my will. Just like everyday. When I was on my way to my 3rd period class , I saw him there, on the field, with his bag on his back. It was a bit suspicious, but since no one else seemed to care, I just ignored him.


RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!! I sighed with relief. The bell had just rung, ending 3rd period. I rushed out of the classroom, heading to 4th period Language Arts.


As people settled down for class, it was completely normal with the room full of conversations, such as “What are you getting for lunch?” or “Have you see that 49ers game…”. It was like any other day. Then it happened. Out of the blue, we heard a bang of in the distance. People looked around as if something weird happened. I glanced at Bill. He looked as confused as I was, and he saw me looking at him, so he just shrugged like nothing happened. That was when we realized what it was. A second bang, much louder and closer. Except this time there were people screaming in the background.
“Gunshots!” yelled some kid from our class.
Oh, we are so going to die, I thought. I looked around the class, and it was silent. Then panic attacked like a bird would to its prey.
“OMG OMG We’re gonna die!”
“MOMMY!”
“Yup, we’re dead.”
Suddenly, the intercom boomed and we heard the principal’s calm voice, “Code red, code red. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”
So our principal wouldn’t be much of a help. He was probably warm, cozy, and protected in his office, sipping tea and watching it all go down from behind his desk, where he could never be harmed.
That got everybody to snap back the senses. Before we knew it though, the window shattered within a gunshot.
“Oh @#$%, he is in!” Bill shouted.
We are so massively screwed, I thought.
The man jumped through the window. It was, of course, the exact same man I saw this morning. He was holding a gun. It seems like a small revolver, with a shiny silver barrel and a black handle. He was pointing it at us and moving it around the room. To me, it was like death was waving in front of me.
Finally, the teacher spoke up. “Look, I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing here. The point is, you’re never going to lay even a finger on these kids, as long as I’m alive.”
“We’re not kids!” Bill whined.
“Now is no time for any of your tomfoolery, Bill.” The teacher said firmly.
For once, Bill kept quiet, which actually surprised me more than the whole creepy-guy-sneaks-onto-our-campus-with-a-gun thing.
The man just looked at her. We couldn’t read his expression, since he had sunglasses on. Next thing we know, the man pulled the trigger and our teacher crumpled to the floor. She was holding on to her shoulder,wincing in pain. Blood oozed out like raspberry smoothie and dyed her white shirt red. It was the worst sight you could ever see.
“You insane monster! You shot her!” I screamed at the man.
He took one look at me and growled in his deep voice, “You are coming with me.” With a swift move, he grabbed me by the arm really tightly and shoved me out the window. Then he came out and gripped me.
That was when I realized that I was being held hostage, or worse, and that no matter what, something really bad was about to happen. Fear came to me in all directions, and I was squirming, kicking, flailing like a little kid throwing a tantrum. The man’s iron grip made it impossible for me to break free of his hold. That didn’t stop me from trying, though.
“For Pete’s sake, stop squirming already or I will do it for you,” said the man.
“Make me,” I replied, knowing that was the wrong answer as soon as those words flew out of my mouth.
The man hit me on the head with the gun. I screamed in pain. My head was throbbing like a mouth full of infected teeth. Yellow spots filled my eyes. I just hoped that my head didn’t bleed.
He led me to the streets outside of school. I could hear police sirens in every direction. The man seems to ignore them and carried me to a car. “Get in, you useless punk.” he ordered me.
After getting me in the car, he started to drive. I tried to rolled down the window to call for help, but he locked them. Feeling as scared as a fawn trapped in the hunter’s cabin, I just sat there, waiting for the worst to happen. What would he do? Take me hostage? Sell me for ransom? Or would he just kill me? Thoughts flooded my head during the drive.
I looked out the window and saw a police cruiser. Without thinking, I started banging hardly on the window and screaming my head off, “HELP! HELP!” The police car didn’t notice. I got so desperate I did something sort of crazy. I got off my seat and reached my hand forward towards the wheel. Before the man could react, I pressed the horn.
BEEP! The horn sounded really loud. Next thing I knew, I was fighting with the man over the wheel. He punched my jaw as I shoved his head against the window. We kept mad housing until all of a sudden, we crashed into another police car.
I was threw forward, bumping my shoulder against the wheel. The man wasn’t so lucky. When I looked up, he had a huge bump on his head.
I glanced out the window. The police walked out. The man saw the police coming out and he panicked. He open the door and just ran. The police pulled out his gun and yelled, “STOP!” The man didn’t stop, and he disappeared around the corner. The cop spoke something into his walkie-talkie and walked over to me. I was still in the car, dazed of what just happened.

*******************************Five hours later***********************************
I filed out of the police station. My parents were outside waiting. My dad asked, “What did they do?”
“They just asked me a bunch of questions about what the gunman looked like and such.” I responded. The questioning went by quickly, since I didn’t know how the man look like exactly with that sunglasses on.
“Well, I am just glad my son is alive and not harmed,” my mom said. She sniffled and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back.
What happened after the gunman fled? Well, the cop took me into his police car and drove me back to school. There, medics were checking and treating the wounded. They checked on me for any injuries before letting me go meet my friends and family. I walked towards the field, where everyone were together to wait for their parents to come. I found Bill and he looked surprised and yelled, “HEY! George made it out alive! Hey man, how did you escape? Did you do some ninjutsu?”
I laughed. “Sadly, no.” I replied. We exchanged stories. He told me how they had to wrap the teacher’s bullet wound with his jacket to stop the bleeding. “That was my favorite yellow jacket. I wondered if it was dyed orange now with the blood,” he chuckled. He laughed along with me until the police took me to the police station.
It had been six months since that awful incident occurred. Now, even the slightest sound makes me jump, whether it signals another shootout by a crazy gunman, or whether it’s the banging sound of pots and pans in the kitchen. Being held hostage, kidnapped, or just getting shot by a gun was by far the worst experience of my life. Still, I had to be grateful that I was not harmed (maybe expect that bump on my head when he hit me). The gunman was caught hiding out in an abandoned apartment two weeks after the shootout. Turned out the gunman was a 27 year old man named Albert Higginbottom. He was actually a drug addict who’s mind went crazy so he couldn’t think straight. He went to our school to take kids hostages and sell them for ransom for the drug money. That was plain insane in my opinion. But that didn’t matter anymore. All it matters was that I am still alive, being able to tell you this story. So there is no more strange man on our campus (since the school got their guards up after the incident). No more worries. No more fear. And maybe, someday you would experience the same thing I did.