Chương 14: Get To Safety

The chorus of the Alice Cooper song looped in my head, courtesy of my own dumb mouth, as we spilled into a hallway bathed in red light. Every few seconds, a white strobe from the fire alarms on the walls flashed in our eyes before plunging us back into red-tinted darkness. The alarm was relentless. Loud enough, I was worried it would drown out the Mindbleed if Tre tried to use it. But the hall was empty. Unnaturally so. There should have been a rush of panicked students fleeing for the exits, but there was no one.

I nudged Isabel as we started down the hall toward the cafeteria.

"Where is everyone?" Nora! Tre shouted in my head, not hiding the panic in his voice. The whole school turned strip-club red, and kids started freaking out! We're evacuating through the West exit. Where are you?!

"We have to head to the West exit," I told Isabel, as I picked up my pace.

"What about Tre and Sameer?" Isabel asked.

"That's where they're going."

"How do you know—" Muffled, frantic banging silenced her. The sound was out of sync with the alarm, emanating from the classroom door on our right. Through the small, wire-reinforced windows, thick smoke obscured everything inside until pale faces and hands suddenly pressed against the glass. The students' mouths opened in screams I couldn't hear. Their fists and shoulders slammed uselessly against the door.

"What do we do?" Isabel shouted the question. The handle wouldn't budge, and when I threw my shoulder into it, the door felt like steel. Either we were about to walk into a trap or a distraction. Maltheris seemed to be trying to separate me from Tre, and I had no idea how we could get into the classroom.

"We have to go," I said.

"We'll come back for them." I worried I was going to have to leave her there until her expression softened.

"The West exit's this way," Isabel said, heading down the corridor. We were forced to pass three more classrooms. In the first, a large boy with a ridiculously outdated bowl cut punched the wire-reinforced glass hard enough to leave bloody smears on the unbroken window. The second contained several shrieking students beating uselessly against the door. Throughout this, Tre continued running commentary in my head, keeping me updated on his whereabouts. We made it to the exit, but it was locked.

Everyone's freaking out! Two-thirds of the way down the hall, Isabel and I approached classroom number three and slowed to a stop due to the abrupt shift in temperature. Air was breathable again, and our eyes adjusted to the absence of orange light thrown into the hallway by the fires. We should've kept walking, but the change in the air and the lack of flames were too sudden. Curiosity got the better of me. I took a peek inside the room. My hand flew to my mouth.

At each of the twelve desks was a fully nude student. They had been posed and arranged in mundane positions typical of a class full of bored Seniors. The crude indignity of it felt like being grabbed in a bar by a strange man who knew you wouldn't make a scene. All of them looked straight ahead at the teacher standing in front of the dry-erase board, facing the students.

She wore a floral-patterned dress, with long, straight hair covering her face completely, as if she were wearing a wig that wrapped all the way around her head. They were in that awful dream where you showed up to school with no clothes. But it turned out that being forced to witness someone living that nightmare was a lot worse than experiencing it yourself. Isabel and I gawked at their discomfort. We recoiled at the same time, refusing to let our eyes meet.

But we both knew we couldn't give them back what we'd taken just by looking. The West exit doors came into view just as panic screams broke through the alarm's relentless assault. Twenty or so kids swarmed the double doors in various states of panic. Frightened sobs drew my eyes to three girls sitting against the wall, huddled close together for support. Other kids seemed to be wandering aimlessly, hands pressed firmly to their ears, trying to block the screeching alarm.

My own ears were ringing so loud I couldn't tell where that ended, and the alarm began. Austin and a few other boys were taking turns ramming their shoulder into the door, but it didn't give an inch. I didn't see any sign of Tre or Sameer. After nearly bouncing off the door from impact, Austin wiped sweat off his head, noticing us as we neared.

"Yo! Tre's looking for you," he said, pointing toward the adjoining hallway at the back of the crowd of students. I twisted around to follow his finger, but didn't see Tre or Sameer.

"Where at?" Austin shrugged.

"They were hanging near the back wall when I came to help with the door." He pointed again. Isabel huffed and smacked his finger.

"Just show us where he is, Austin."

"Oh, right. Sure." He gestured for us to follow and led us away from the doors, down the hallway opposite from where we'd entered. I smelled them before finding Tre and Sameer tucked into an alcove between two bathrooms. Tre stood on the water fountain, passing a joint to Sameer.

"Now's probably not the time to get high, Sameer," Isabel said, incredulously.

"We're trapped inside, no teachers in sight…Seems like now is the best time to get high," he said, punctuating his point with a large drag. A quarter of the joint disappeared as the paper sizzled away.

"Agreed," Tre said as he took the joint and hit it. I shook my head at Tre, making my disappointment evident. What?! It's a game, he thought over the Mindbleed. I always smoke when I'm gaming.

"Now that we're together," Tre said aloud, changing the subject, "we should try to get into the Principal's office and turn off this alarm."

"How do you know how to turn it off?" Isabel asked. Tre climbed down from the fountain.

"I worked as faculty in a school before I opened my museum. They're all basically the same." Isabel, Sameer, and Austin exchanged confused looks. Austin tilted his head.

"How old are you?" Tre put his hands on his hips like Peter Pan.

"How old do I look?"

"Uh… Sixteen? Seventeen at most," Sameer replied matter-of-factly.

"Hmm." Tre nodded and started down the hall.

"Fascinating." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Wait up," I called after him. It had gotten oddly quiet. The alarm was still ringing, but I didn't hear any students in the hallways. I returned to the vestibule to find it empty. Twenty kids were in here a minute ago and now… The rest of the group rounded the corner behind me.

"Where'd everyone go?" Austin ran to the exit door, grabbing the metal bar.

"Did they get out?" He pushed the bar. Nothing. Then he looked up at the window— —and something looked back. Austin yelped, launching himself away from the door so fast his back hit the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He doubled over, gasping.

"What the fuck—" Isabel started. Then she saw it too, color draining from her face. I followed her haunted gaze. The figure from the football field was there, a creepy masked face pressed against the glass. Those red-rimmed pits where eyes should be stared directly at me. Not through me. AT me. Then he opened the door. Austin and a bunch of other boys had thrown their entire body weight at that door, and it hadn't even budged. Now it swung wide with a soft click.

The figure stepped inside, a large Bowie knife hung loose in one hand, blade scraping against the doorframe as he entered. The metal-on-metal sound hurt my molars. He took another step closer.

"RUN!" My scream broke the spell. We fucking ran. A HUD notification bloomed in front of me as we sprinted down the hallway. FEAR: 45% (Nervous) Behind us were steady, measured footsteps. But despite running our asses off, the sound wasn't getting farther away. We turned left at the T-junction, passing more classrooms. I risked a glance back. The figure rounded the corner. Still walking. Still somehow RIGHT THERE.

"How is he—" Austin gasped, but didn't finish. We kept running. My lungs burned. The alarm still shrieked overhead, drilling into my skull. FEAR: 55% (Anxious) The adrenaline propelling me was wearing thin. My hands were shaking. I was drenched in sweat. And my legs started to ache. The stamina drain was starting to slow me down.

"This way!" Sameer made a hard right, speeding down another corridor. We followed. The hallway stretched ahead with classrooms on both sides. But it led to a dead-end with three doors: one straight ahead, one on the left, and one on the right. Sameer reached the end first and tried the door straight ahead. Locked.

"Shit!" That's when a glowing, neon thumbs-up appeared on the door to the right. A Safe Area.

"Tre!" I pointed. Following my finger, Tre saw it and smiled. Austin, Sameer, and Isabel looked confused. The masked figure appeared at the far end of the hallway behind us. He paused, head cocked, studying us, then resumed walking. FEAR: 68% (Panicked) The edges of my vision darkened. The Panicked status flashed, and my legs felt like I'd strapped on cement shoes. There has to be something we can use to slow the killer down, but I was too scared to think straight.

Isabel moved without hesitation, diving for a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall between the killer and us. She ripped it off the wall bracket, aimed— —and BLASTED. White CO2 foam exploded from the nozzle, hitting the masked figure square in the face. The hallway was filled with an opaque cloud. Isabel kept spraying, backing up towards us as the masked killer advanced on her. Behind me, the Safe Area door swung open.

"IN HERE!" Tre's voice. Austin and I rushed inside. Isabel swung the heavy canister, striking the side of the killer's head with a hollow THUNK. Then tossed the fire extinguisher to the floor and hurried into the room. The door slammed behind her, and she fiddled with the knob until the flimsy lock clicked into place.

"This isn't going to hold for very long!"

"We're good for at least fifteen minutes." A translucent timer appeared in the space above the examination table, glowing faint blue: ENTERING SAFE AREA Passive Regen: Fear -5%/min Stamina Recovery: ON 15: 00 The numbers started counting down immediately. 14: 59... 14: 58... 14: 57... Something shifted physically inside me. A cool compress had been draped over my head, loosening a band of panic I hadn't even realized was there. My breathing slowed without me deciding or trying to slow it.

Isabel's eyes tracked upward to the timer, then back to me. Was that a flicker of… recognition? Or relief? Not much time, Tre projected into my head. Better make the most of it.

"Who the fuck was that guy?" Austin asked, voice shaking.

"I saw him earlier across the football field but thought I imagined it."

"Probably Evan," Sameer said.

"Maybe he finally snapped?"

"We don't know that at all," Isabel said firmly. Austin let out a shaky breath.

"Why… why isn't he coming after us?" No one had an answer.

"We'll find answers, but we gotta survive this first. We can't stay in here all day." Austin looked up at me.

"Why not?" I glanced at Tre for help.

"Because we're sitting ducks. The killer's not trying to get in now, but he knows where we are." Isabel got a funny look on her face, like she wanted to say something, but she remained quiet. I leaned against the counter just to stay upright, taking in the room. There was an examination table in the center, and a desk against the back wall covered in paperwork, sandwiched between two filing cabinets. Everything smelled like antiseptic. It was the nurse's office.

Austin slid down to sit with his back against the door, not even glancing at the floating timer. He stared at the floor, shoulders rising and falling.

"I'm gonna see if there's anything useful here." Sameer moved to the filing cabinet in the corner, already rifling through folders. He also didn't react to the glowing numbers hovering seven feet off the ground in the middle of the room. They couldn't see it. Checking the HUD, I was relieved to see my Fear had dipped to 60%, confirmed by my panic draining away. I slid down against the wall next to Austin.

"That was something at lunch," I said, keeping my tone casual. Austin shrugged without looking up.

"I just hate bullies."

"Still, speaking up like that..."

"Whatever." He picked at a loose thread on his pre-ripped jeans.

"Evan's always been a dick."

"Was it true, though? What you said about your brother?" Austin looked up at me.

"Yeah, he bartends at Murphy's. Said he saw Mr. Ortiz there the night before the crash. We were laughing about it because Evan's dad worked at the bank, wore those expensive suits, and there he was doing karaoke to 'Don't Stop Believin'.'" He paused, then added, "Weird to think that was probably right before..."

"Did your brother actually say he was drinking?" I asked carefully. Austin blinked.

"I… I can't remember exactly. I just assumed… I mean, he was at a bar."

"Doesn't mean he was drunk."

"Yeah. I guess." Austin frowned, like he was realizing for the first time that he'd filled in that blank himself.

"Maybe Jake never actually said drinking." Isabel was at the supply cabinet, grabbing bandages and alcohol wipes.

"Austin, your shoulder's bleeding."

"It's fine—""Sit." She pointed at the exam table. My Lucidity was regenerating slowly: 87/100% now.

"Guys." Sameer held up a manila folder.

"You need to see this." We gathered around. The tab read: ORTIZ, EVAN - CONFIDENTIAL. Inside were session notes, handwritten: Patient continues to exhibit anger management issues. Trigger appears to be discussion of father's possible relapse into alcoholism and subsequent accident. Insists father was sober. Recommend continued counseling. Dated three weeks after the crash.

"His dad was an alcoholic," Sameer insisted.

"This proves my sister didn't cause the crash."

"It proves his dad had a drinking problem," Isabel corrected, reading over his shoulder.

"Not that he was drunk during the crash. Evan could still be right that his dad was sober that night."

"Yeah… I'm not certain my brother said he was drunk… just singing his ass off."

"But Evan's been acting like his dad never had a problem at all!" Sameer's hands clenched.

"Like my sister was just some drunk who killed an innocent man. He's been lying. Or at least hiding the fact that his dad was a recovering alcoholic. That changes things."

"Does it?" Isabel asked.

"I mean, yeah, it's shitty he didn't mention it. But if his dad really was sober when it happened—""Then why hide it?" Sameer shot back.

"Why get so defensive every time someone brings it up?" The question just hung there.

"We don't know what happened yet," I said.

"But this is... something at least." The crash of it all hit too close to home. My dad's last night alive had been ordinary: he left work, stopped at the gym, got back in the car after his workout, and headed home. He'd had no idea that on the short drive from the gym to the house, some drunk asshole would slam into him and end everything. The accident had taken him, and then Mom's illness had taken whatever was left of me. There wasn't much of Nora Price left to protect.

But Tre was sitting three feet away on a filing cabinet, swinging his plastic legs like he didn't have a care in the world, and Isabel was wrapping Austin's shoulder with the quiet competence of someone who'd been taking care of people her whole life without being asked to. That I could feel. The specific, unbearable weight of not wanting anything bad to happen to them. That was the only fear that still had teeth. I checked the timer. Eight minutes left. My Fear was lower than it had been all day.

I didn't want to think about how fast it might spike once we stepped back into the hallway. Sameer was still reading the folder, but if there was anything here that proved his sister's innocence, someone had already buried it.

"Sameer." He didn't look up.

"We can't stay here. Whatever we need, it's not in this room." He flashed a look somewhere close to disdain. Then put the folder down and nodded. After that, he frowned and hunched over. Tre watched the exchange with that particular stillness he got when he was cataloging something new.

"Can we even get there?" Isabel asked.

"That dude is still out there."

"We've got seven minutes to figure it out. Let's use them," I said.