My first thoughts are weirdly enough are of my dog, Calypso. She is all I have that is worth anything to me. For her I would go hungry or poor.
My next thought is take control. I am the most ready for these situations in my life. I have had a harder life probably than most of the people in this room put together. So I have to step up.
I notice that the young lady that was helping me has already run towards a room off the farthest aisle.
The room had paper over the small prison reform window in the door. I did not know that was a secure room. As I looked around I noticed more detail besides the window count or exits. The room is block concrete construction on all exterior walls—if I can seal this room it will make it difficult to enter.
And I just have to secure the doors and be quick. I come to the conclusion that if I take the couches and pile them up in front of the door it will not stop a gunman. But it will slow him/her down enough for me to prepare the next level of reaction.
The younger African American male comes up to inform me we have to get everyone into the room. I say let me get these couches piled up. We quickly put the couches in position and then he turns to go down the aisle.
There is another mid 30s or early 40s woman who has taken control of her people in the room. The decision that I will be the last to enter so as to make sure the room is clear of all people.
As I make it down the first aisle checking the cubicles for stragglers the lady who had taken charge and tells me I have to go into the room. I nod my head yes and tell her to go ahead. I am checking the cubicles for any other people. She walks into the room. I am right behind her. I walk in and everyone is on their cell phones.
Weird time for a selfie.
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Read more in this series by Brian Cardoza, here.
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Image by author. Used with permission.