The End Boxset: Postapocalyptic Visions of an Unstoppable Collapse (22 page)

“So why don't we just go now?” Shelly asked.

“Because we need a boy to help us,” Kiya said.

“A boy? Why?” Shelly asked.

“We need someone to help us if we run into trouble. But most importantly, someone who will do what we say.”

“Ooo! Pick Mark Nelson, he likes you,” Erika said.

Kiya shuttered at the thought. “I don't know. What about that one kid who never speaks?”

“His name is Oliver and he's a retard,” Erika said.

Shelly gasped. “You shouldn't say that word.”

“I don't mean that he's
actually
retarded. I just mean that he's strange.”

“No stranger than you,” Shelly quipped.

“Eat dirt, you skank.”

“Okay, stop it. We'll ask both of them,” Kiya said.

“That's too many people. You think Mrs. Crabtree isn't going to notice that like five of her students are missing?” Shelly asked.

“By the time she does, we'll be gone,” Kiya said.

Mrs. Crabtree pounded on Mr. Wright's office door with her fist. She waited, and for a moment it seemed like no one was there. The door handle slowly moved, and the door opened to a crack, revealing Mr. Wright's face. “Mrs. Crabtree,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“We need to talk,” she answered.

“I'm having a meeting right now, can this wait?” he asked.

“No it can't, frankly. This needs to be addressed now,” she said, unwavering.

Mr. Wright seemed oddly relieved. He opened the door fully and invited Mrs. Crabtree in. “Please come in, perhaps you can join our meeting then.”

Mrs. Crabtree walked in to see a small group of other teachers sitting in a circle. It was her fellow colleagues, Mr. Barone, the music instructor, Ms. Whitten, one of the seventh grade teachers, and Mrs. Anderson, a young twenty-something teacher's assistant. Mr. Wright closed the door. His office was dark, but slightly illuminated by a small kerosene lamp in the corner of the room.  “That's one thing I wanted to ask you about, where did we get all these kerosene lamps?” Mrs. Crabtree asked as she approached the center of the room. “We have emergency storage for such incidents,” he answered.

“And what kind of incidents?” she asked.

“That's exactly what we were discussing,” Mr. Barone said. “Please, have a seat.”

Mr. Barone pointed to an empty swivel chair next to him. Mrs. Crabtree sat as everyone looked to Mr. Wright, who paced in circles with his arms folded behind his back. “I'm simply explaining to your colleagues the reasons why this school has gone into full lockdown status. I think we've made some real progress,” he said.

Mr. Barone, clearly objecting, spoke immediately. “I want to be clear—and I think I speak for the other teachers here—when I say that the only progress we've made is the unanimous decision that we want to leave the school.”

“Nonsense, absolute nonsense, Mr. Barone. The point of being on lockdown is that no one is to leave the school, for their own safety,” Mr. Wright said.

Angered, Mr. Barone stood up. “What about the safety of my wife and children? I haven't spoken to them all day! We have no idea what's going on out there.”

The other teachers, with the exception of Mrs. Crabtree, nodded in agreement. Mr. Wright looked to Mrs. Crabtree. “Mrs. Crabtree, would you please talk some sense into Mr. Barone. These hysterics are not necessary. If the students see us going at each other's throats, it's going to create a panic.”

“Well, actually,” Mrs. Crabtree said clearing her throat, “I'm a little concerned about the level of authority that we're losing over our classrooms. I had a few students come into class and tell me that we were to move to the gymnasium, under your authority.”

“That's ridiculous!” Mr. Barone added. 

Mr. Wright glared at Mrs. Crabtree, clearly disappointed. He stopped pacing and turned to address the teachers. “I understand that you have reservations about the course we're taking here. But as I've said repeatedly, my greatest concern is for the safety the students and you, my dedicated faculty.”

“We want the same things, Mr. Wright, but we have families. The children have families. It doesn't make sense to keep us here like prisoners,” Mrs. Anderson said.

Mr. Wright rubbed his forehead letting out a deep sigh. He turned from the teachers and faced the wall. The teachers gave each other a concerned look.

“I appreciate your input, Mrs. Anderson. And all the comments from the group. I understand where each of you is coming from. If you want to leave the school, obviously I can't keep you here against your will. But understand that we cannot open those front gates until the terror alert has been downgraded.”

Grumbling from the teachers ensued to which Mr. Wright continued, “There is another way out of the school that one of my student monitors can escort you to, that is, if you feel comfortable leaving your classrooms behind.”

“Well, why does it have to be like that?” Mr. Barone asked. “This isn't about just us. We want to make sure the children get home too.”

Mr. Wright ignored Mr. Barone and opened his office door. Standing outside was Charlie McFarland, an eight-grader, infamous in reputation as the school's worst problem child. His suspensions were a common occurrence. He had been held back twice. He had been transferred from class to class constantly for unruly behavior that included fights, vandalism, smoking, and cursing at the teachers. He had become a student no teacher wanted. It was a miracle that he hadn't been expelled. The teachers in the room recoiled at the sight of him. He stared into the room under the bangs of his jet black hair.

“Everyone, I'm sure that you're familiar with Charles. He'll escort you to the back exit.”

“What is the meaning of this? Seriously, sir,” Ms. Whitten said, speaking for the first time.

“Yes, this isn't exactly what we wanted. I thought we were going to have a serious discussion about what is happening in this school,” Mr. Barone added.

Mr. Wright walked over to his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a kerosene lantern.

“Come in, Charles,” he said, beckoning the student.

Charlie walked in—black jacket, torn blue jeans and all—and took the lantern from Mr. Wright.

“Please escort the teachers out of the school,” Mr. Wright.

“We're not going anywhere,” Mr. Barone objected.

“Oh, so now you want to stay? I really wish
someone
would make up their mind here,” Mr. Wright said with an eye roll.   

“This is insane,” Mr. Barone said. “And I would like to add that your behavior is extremely unprofessional. We haven't resolved a thing!”

“Charles, remember what we discussed?” Mr. Wright said, leaning towards him. Charlie nodded as Mr. Wright turned to address the teachers. “Here's your options, go back to the classroom and file your students into their respective areas, or leave. Or if neither suit you, your other option is termination.”

The teachers looked at each other in shock. “What?” Ms. Whitten asked in disbelief.

“Are you threatening to fire us?” Mr. Barone shouted.

“I'm not making any threats. But if you fail to comply with current school protocols, you may not only lose your jobs, but you may find yourself unable to find employment anywhere else, for the rest of your lives. Let's see the letters, Charles.”

Charles pulled several letters from his jacket pocket. He opened one and proceeded to read it. “Mr. Barone made several inappropriate comments to me regarding his sex life. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and if we had 'done anything' yet. I caught him staring at me several times in class and in the gym locker room. Signed, Jessica Albright.”

Mr. Barone's face contorted in confusion and anger. “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Jessica Albright?” Mr. Wright asked sarcastically. “Why she's one of the top students in school. And here Charles has a signed confession in his hand of her alluding to inappropriate behavior on the part of our music director, Mr. Barone.”

“And there's more where that came from,” Charlie said. He took another letter from his pocket and read it. “Mrs. Anderson touched me after class and told me that I was 'just the right age for sex.' We went in the janitor’s closet and did some 'naughty' stuff. Signed, Edward Smith.”

“Oooo. He's another top student. No one would question his integrity,” Mr. Wright said.

Mrs. Anderson's face went flush with embarrassment and sadness. “What is the meaning of this? I would never—”

“According to these letters, you did,” Mr. Wright said. “Charles got confessions from students of every teacher in this room, with the exception of our unexpected guest, Mrs. Crabtree. Now whether she wants to have the same thing happen is entirely up to her.”

“This is some kind of grotesque blackmail. Do you really think you'll get away with such viscous tactics?” Mr. Barone said.

“Yes, I do. Now go with Charles or I'll have Deputy Willis apprehend each one of you for sexual assault.”

“Mr. Wright!” Ms. Whitten shouted. “What has gotten into you?”

“We're done here. There's nothing left to say,” Mr. Wright said turning his back to the students.

“You're not going to get away with this,” Mr. Barone shouted.

“Hm. Spoken like a true television detective. Give them a minute to think about their options,” Mr. Wright said with a pat on Charlie's shoulder.

Mrs. Crabtree looked around the room, then to her fellow teachers. With worried looks on their faces, no one offered any alternative. The decision to return to her classroom was overpowering, as if some force was pushing her to the door. Mrs. Crabtree rose from her chair. “I think I need to go check on my students,” she said, and she walked out of the room. The desperate eyes of her peers followed her.

“Times up,” Mr. Wright said to the remaining teachers. No one responded.

“Go ahead and escort them out of the school,” Mr. Wright said to Charlie. He then looked to the teachers. “Please follow Charles,” he said.

The teachers got up, looking weary in their defeat, and followed Charlie out the door. Mr. Wright stepped outside his office and watched them walk down the hall. “No hard feelings, I hope,” he said with a smile.

“Where are you taking us?” Mr. Barone asked Charlie, as they walked in a single file line behind him.

“To the back entrance of the school,” he answered. They passed through a door at the end of the hall that led to a flight of stairs. Charlie held up his lantern and pointed to the stairs. “That way,” he said.

“Charlie, look, I know we have had our difficulties in the past, but you have to tell me what Mr. Wright is up to. What did he tell you?” Mr. Barone said with a hint of desperation.

“Nothing. He just wants me to help keep order in the school,” Charlie answered.

“You? Keep order?” Mr. Barone laughed. “Excuse me, but you're the last student I think that wants order around here.”

“I don't have all night, Mr.  Barone. You guys want to leave or what?” Charlie said with an exhausted sigh.

“Yes, you're right. We do want to leave. And we're going to bring back the
real
police and put an end to this madness,” Mr. Barone said.

“It's the only way, Charlie,” Ms. Whitten added.

Charlie shrugged. “Do whatever you want.”

“We want you to come with us. Tell the police everything Mr. Wright has had you do,” Mr. Barone said, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

“What?” Charlie laughed, “I'm not going out there.”

“Why not?” Mr. Barone asked.

Charlie ignored him and starting walking down the stairs. “Come on,” he said.

The teachers reluctantly followed him. They came to another long hall at the bottom of the stairs. Charlie used a key, attached to ring, to unlock one exceptionally large and thick door. They entered yet another dark hall.

“Where are we?” Mrs. Anderson asked. “What is this?”

“The secret exit,” Charlie said walking with the lantern held up to light their path. He stopped at the door to a vault. From the circular key ring, he searched the key and found the one he needed. Charlie unlocked the door and began to push it open. “Little help,” he said grunting. The other teachers helped him push it opened. The door creaked as if the hinges hadn't been oiled in a decade.

Once opened, Charlie held up his lantern and pointed in the room. “There's the exit,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Barone asked. “Take a look yourself,” Charlie said walking into the room slightly. The other teachers followed and once they were in, Charlie jumped out of the room and pushed the vault door shut, with all his might.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Barone shouted! Mrs. Anderson ran at the door, but it was too late. Charlie slammed it shut and everything went pitch black. Mrs. Anderson ran into the door and fell to the ground. “Charlie!” Mr. Barone called. “Let us out of here this instant!”

Charlie picked up his lantern off the ground and turned from the door. Their screams were muffled and unintelligible from his side. From inside, the teachers felt around the walls of their darkened tomb, unable to find a way out. Panic and fear grew with the ensuing blackness. “Help us!” Ms. Whitten screamed. Charlie walked without a care to the end of the hall and made his way back up the stairs.

“Class, we're going to move to the gymnasium. There will be food and rest waiting for you. So what I want is for everyone to form a single file line outside the classroom, and we'll walk to the gym together,” Mrs. Crabtree instructed from the front of the classroom. She felt ashamed leaving the other teachers, but she had to choose her students. There was just no winning against Mr. Wright as long as the school was on lockdown. She could protest, just as the others did, but didn't think that it would do any good. No, for her, the best option was to keep her students calm, the best she could. She wasn't going to leave them at the hands of people like Thomas Caissie, or worse, Charlie McFarland. If it was the gym they were to go to, then she would take them there. And then, hopefully this horrible day would be over. Tomorrow, for her, brought promise.