With a sense of dread filling my very being, I jumped to my feet and ran over to the door to the teachers’ lounge. It was locked, but one well-aimed laser blast broke the lock, allowing me to yank open the door and rush inside.
The scene I saw shocked me to my core. The entire eastern wall of the teacher’s lounge had been blown completely open, allowing the warm rays of the April sunshine to pour in like water. I could see the school’s parking lot on the other side, as well as the busy highway beyond.
But the teachers’ lounge itself was totally ruined. Chunks of plaster and wood were scattered everywhere. Most of the tables had been smashed or torn apart. The lounge smelled of smoke and fire. In fact, the microwave on the kitchen counter to my left was little more than twisted, smoking
