Scott Andrews - School_s Out

"No, I won't," said Bates.

Bates turned to Mac.

"Major, you and your men escort Mr Hammond from the premises immediately," he said.

"Yes sir!" barked Mac, and nodded to his officers, who raised their rifles and walked forward.

At this point Matron stepped forward to intervene, but Mac blocked her way and hissed into her face "Sit down, bitch, or else". She sat down, ashen-faced.

Seeing Mac advancing towards him, Hammond straightened his back and stuck out his chest. He wasn't going to be intimidated.

"You can't hand me over to this man, Bates," he cried. "We both know I'll be dead within the hour. And these boys won't let it happen, will you boys?"

Oh, what a misjudgement that was. Because the boys didn't make a sound. They were too afraid of the raised guns of the officers, too cowed by the horrors that had overtaken their lives in the last year, too conditioned to fear Mac. They'd enjoyed a mad moment of rebellion but once they'd stopped applauding their own terror had crept in to fill the silence.

Norton looked over at me desperately, seeking guidance. If I gave the nod he'd speak up.

Should I have given the signal? I still wonder about that. If I had, if Norton had stepped forward and rallied the boys, maybe things would have been different. Maybe all the blood and death could have been prevented. But I was unsure. It seemed too risky. I shook my head, and Norton clenched his jaw and remained silent. In that moment of uncertainty and cowardice he and I condemned us to all that followed.

Faced by Mac's slow, menacing approach, and the silent acquiescence of the boys, Hammond began to appreciate the gravity of his situation.

"You can't do this, Bates. For God's sake man, look at yourself, look at what you're doing!" There was a desperate, pleading note in his voice now.

"Mac's orders are to expel you," said Bates, "and that is what he'll do, isn't it Major?"

"Yes sir!"

Mac, approaching from behind Bates, bared his teeth at Hammond, and winked. Bates stepped forward, his pistol raised to cover Hammond and deter him from running. Hammond contemptuously batted the pistol aside. Bates brought it to bear again. Hammond batted it aside again. Bates raised the pistol to hit Hammond with it, but the old man grabbed Bates' arm to counter the blow.

You've seen the movies. You know what comes next. The two men grapple for possession of the weapon, they huddle in tight, almost embracing, as they strain and clutch and struggle for leverage. Then a shot – shocking, sudden, echoing off the buildings and trees, repeating again and again and fading away as the two men stand stock still, frozen, the horrified spectators waiting to see which one of them will topple.

Hammond backed away from Bates, his face full of confusion and fear. Then he fell sideways into the snow, and twitched and shook and died.

Bates stood there, the smoking gun in his hand. He stared at Hammond's body and seemed frozen, rooted to the spot.

Rowles broke ranks and ran towards the school, crying. Without a moment's hesitation Mac drew his sidearm and fired into the air.

"One more inch, Rowles, and I'll have you up on a charge of desertion!" he yelled.

Rowles turned back, his face streaked with tears and snot, utterly terrified. His lower lip trembled.

"Back in line, boy, now!"

Rowles shuffled back, wide-eyed, and rejoined the serried ranks of boys, all of whom mirrored his fear and uncertainty.

"You are on parade. You do not leave until you are dismissed. Understand?"

The boys stood in silence.

"I said," bellowed Mac, "do you understand?"

A half-hearted "yes sir".

"I bloody well hope so."

Mac turned to his officers. Patel and Wolf-Barry were restraining Matron, who had attempted to run to Hammond when he had been shot.

"Zayn, Pugh, take Hammond's body to the San." They did so.

Bates was still standing there.

Mac addressed the troops.

"The Colonel is right. There's no room here for charity, no food for freeloaders, no beds for fucking whingers. We stay tight, we stay hard, we stay alive. Hammond thought otherwise and look where it fucking got him."

"That's Mr Hammond to you, McKillick," shouted Matron, straining against the boys who were holding her back. Mac turned and walked slowly towards her. He had still not holstered his gun. He leaned forward so there was only an inch at most between their faces.

"Now you listen to me and you listen well, bitch," he whispered. "I run this place now. My gaff, my rules. And if you don't like that you can piss off. But while you stay here you do exactly as I say or so help me God I will fucking gut you. I own you, bitch, and don't you fucking forget it."

He leered at her and then raised his free hand and ever so softly caressed her cheek.

And for the first time ever I genuinely wanted to kill someone.

Matron spat in his face. There was an audible intake of breath from the boys.

Mac smiled.

"Take her away boys," he said. "Find somewhere safe and lock the cow up. I'm sure we can find a use for her."

"Sir?" Pugh, having a moment of conscience.

"Yes Corporal?" The danger in Mac's voice was unmistakeable.

"Nothing sir."

"Good, then carry on."

The two boys marched Matron away towards the school.

Bates still hadn't moved.

Mac walked over to Hammond's statue and kicked it hard. It slowly toppled over and fell into the bloodstained snow. Another failed attempt at decency and compassion, white on red.

The court martial of Mr Bates began the next morning.

Most of the officers were present, including myself, in my wheelchair, sitting at Mac's right hand. Only Green and Wylie were absent, running exercises with the boys. Mac, sporting a huge bruise on his left cheek which he made no reference to, took the chair. We were to be Bates' judges and jury.

Bates sat before us, hands bound. He was deep in shock and hadn't said a word since the shooting the previous day.

I don't think I've ever felt as powerless as I did in that room. Officially I was now one of the three most powerful people in the school, but this was a pantomime of Mac's devising and we all knew what was expected of us. Step out of line, challenge Mac in this context, and I had no doubt I'd share whatever fate he had in store for Bates. This was to be the culmination of Mac's ascent to power and we had to rubber stamp it, no matter what. Our lives depended upon it.

"Colonel Michael Bates, you are arraigned here today to answer the charge of murder."

Mac was even putting on a plummy voice, pretending to be a High Court judge. Actually, not 'putting on' at all; 'reverting to', more like.

Bates mumbled something inaudible in response.

"Speak up, Colonel," said Mac.

Bates looked up at Mac. The depth of despair in those eyes was like a physical blow.

"I said sorry," he muttered.

Mac snorted. "I'm afraid sorry just isn't going to do. You are accused of a criminal offence of the most heinous type and you must answer for it before the court."

"So sorry," he whispered again, and his head slumped forward as his shoulders began to heave. He began to sob.

Mac was unmoved.

"Do I take it to understand that you are throwing yourself upon the mercy of this court, Colonel?"

But the only sound that came from Bates was a deep, hoarse moan.

"In which case we shall retire to consider our verdict."

As Mac rose Bates looked up and began to speak.

"All I wanted," he sobbed, "was to help."

"Well I think that…"

"All I wanted," Bates interrupted, "was to look after them. To make them safe, to protect and care for them, that's all I ever wanted, even before. But it was always so hard. They never understood what I was doing, never understood that it was all for their own good. Never understood. Nobody ever understood."