Scott Andrews - School_s Out

Resting on the bed I felt the adrenalin surging through me. I was shaking like a leaf but I could breathe!

"My… my neck. I heard it break," I gasped. "Why am I still alive?"

"If your neck was broken you'd be dead. Your neck's fine," said Petts. "I mean, you've got a hell of a bruise, and rope burns and shit, but no broken bones."

"But I heard it! I heard it break!" I protested.

"That wasn't your neck, that was a gunshot," said Williams. "They opened fire the second you dropped."

I levered myself upright and felt the awful slickness in my pants as I did so.

"Who opened fire?"

"Take a look," said Petts, gesturing to the window.

I shuffled sideways on the bed and peered down onto the market square. It was a scene of total chaos. The first thing I noticed was Baker, lying next to the lever, half his head missing, sprayed across the gallows platform.

At least that was one less mad bastard to worry about.

The forecourt was still full of people, but they were surrounded by the men I had seen at the back of the crowd. Some of these men carried guns; all brandished what looked like homemade machetes. There were some bodies lying around the place, a few villagers, and two of the attackers.

I could hear sporadic gunfire in the distance.

"They shot Baker just as he pulled the lever, and the crowd panicked," explained Petts. "There was a stampede but they were ready for it and they herded everyone back towards the building's entrance. Some of the men had guns and there was a fight, and during the confusion we were able to get to you. But it looks like these new guys, whoever they are, have got things under control now. By the way, Lee, you stink."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

At that moment a strange figure appeared, walking down the driveway towards the house. He was tall and lean and dressed in an immaculate three-piece pinstripe suit, complete with stripy tie and bowler hat. He carried an umbrella and his face was daubed with watery brown paint. He was flanked by two huge bodybuilder types, stripped naked and entirely daubed with the same brown stain. Both men carried machine guns.

Obviously an unknown force had stormed the town. I reasoned that one or two of them must have made it over the wire under cover of darkness and hidden a cache of weapons, probably in one of the abandoned houses. Then the main force had arrived one by one, ostensibly for market day, collected the weapons and waited for the appointed time – my execution. The gunshots in the distance indicated that another force had attacked the guard posts once they'd heard the shooting from inside the town. It seemed like a well organised and effective attack. Now here, in his finest suit, came their leader.

Much as I wanted to see what transpired I was conscious that a force of men from Hildenborough was about to storm the school. We couldn't hang around here, we needed to get back and warn them. I turned to Williams.

"When do they attack?"

He looked up at me, wide-eyed. "What?"

"Look, I know you sold us out to Baker so don't waste my fucking time. Do you know when they are planning to attack?"

Williams stared at me like a rabbit in headlights.

"Williams, listen to me. I don't give a damn about what you've done, all right. I just need…"

"I don't know," he muttered. "He didn't tell me."

"Hang on," said Petts. "Are you saying…"

"No time, Petts, not now. Got to get back to school and warn them. Stay here. I'll be back."

I rose to my feet. My knees felt like jelly but I forced myself to walk to the door. I listened but could hear no-one outside, so I shoved the chest aside and pushed the door ajar. No-one. I edged out into the corridor and worked my way along the rooms until I found one with a wardrobe full of clothes. I stripped my lower half and used a towel to clean myself up as best I could. I put on a clean pair of trousers and went back to the room, where I found Petts beating the living crap out of Williams.

I pulled them apart.

"Leave it Petts. Later!"

He was breathing hard and his fists were raw; Williams' nose was broken and his lip was bloodied. He was terrified.

"Oh God, he's going to crucify me. He's going to crucify me," was all he could say.

"I fucking hope so!" said Petts. I glared at him and told him to back off. He reluctantly sat on the bed. I knelt down and looked straight into Williams' eyes.

"Nobody is going to crucify anyone, Williams. I give you my word."

He looked at me for a moment and then nodded.

"Right now I need you to keep it together and help us get out of here without running into any of these guys with the machetes. Can you help us do that?"

He nodded again. "I know a way," he said.

"Good man. Right, we're going to try and get out of town as quickly and as quietly as we can, all right?"

Petts and Williams nodded. I sighed. I had just been bloody hanged. Why, oh why, did I have to take the lead yet again? The shit on my shorts wasn't even dry. All I wanted was a long bath and a stiff drink. And maybe a massage.

I led them out onto the landing and let Williams take point. We descended to the second floor but then we heard voices coming up the stairs from below. They were searching the house. I ushered the boys through the nearest door.

We had taken refuge in a bathroom.

"Dammit," I cursed. "Why couldn't it have been an armoury?"

There was precious little to use in the way of weapons. Petts cracked the door open and peered out while I unscrewed the shower hose and handed it to Williams – at least he could use that to choke someone with. Not that I had any intention of killing anyone, I just wanted to get back to the school as quickly as possible. For all I knew this new group could be the good guys, and I didn't want to go slaughtering them willy-nilly until I at least knew who or what I was dealing with.

I picked up the heavy porcelain slab that sat on top of the toilet cistern and held it ready to use a bludgeon. The only other potential weapon was a bottle of bleach. I pressed it into Petts' hand.

"Only if we need to," I whispered. "And try not to kill anyone, okay?"

They nodded.

The voices came nearer and two young men appeared at the top of the stairs. Both were wearing jeans and T-shirts. Their arms were daubed with the brown stain but their hands and faces were clean; left that way so they could blend in with the normal market crowd without arousing suspicion.

They began to work their way along the corridor towards us, checking the rooms as they went. I steadied myself and got a firm grip on the cistern lid; if I swung it right I should be able to take one of them out of the picture.

Two doors along from us they found someone hiding and both vanished into the room, where a struggle ensued. I was just about to try and use the distraction to slip past them when they dragged an old man of about eighty out into the corridor, threw him to the floor and kicked him hard in the ribs. He lay there, gasping, clutching his chest.

One of the men looked guiltily up and down the corridor, and then said to his mate: "Let's bleed 'im."

His colleague looked uncertain.

"What, here?" he asked.

"Of course here, you berk. Where else?"

"David won't like that."

"David doesn't have to know." He gestured to his face and hands. "I feel naked like this. Don't you? We're not safe, mate. Gotta be safe."

"Yeah, I s'pose."

"So let's bleed the cattle and then we can relax, yeah?"

"Yeah, all right, then. Bleed him."

The old man who was the subject of this banal, macabre exchange, whimpered helplessly. The first man grabbed him by the arms and lifted him upright, while the other advanced towards him with his machete. It was only then that I realised exactly what they were talking about.