“Doesn’t excuse it, does it? I’m still in trouble. What happens next?”
Brendan could feel tears forming, hated himself for not keeping them down. They stung his swollen eye as he forced them back. But why not tell her? Enough people had seen the fight. It would be a strange relief giving up on this school. He realized his being here was overreaching, and getting sent home meant being with his mom again, and maybe being able to visit his dad wherever he got sent within the federal prison system.
The knock came at the door again.
“Wait, please,” Nurse Dreyfus called. Then to Brendan: “This isn’t an insurmountable problem. You stood up for yourself, and that is a good act. But deep down, don’t you want to continue going to school here?”
“I guess.”
“That’s not good enough. If you don’t care enough to fight for yourself, then what happens next is truly out of your hands. You will go through life not being any help to anyone. But if you have the will to stand up for wrongs and speak the truth…well, we need students like you here, especially now. Tell me you won’t give up.”
“Okay, yes, I won’t give up.”
Her grip tightened, squeezing his arm enough that it hurt.
“Because your friends here will need you soon.”
Before he could ask what she was talking about, she went and let the security guard in. All sense of comfort vanished as the guard moved towards him, but then Nurse Dreyfus blocked his way.
“Just a minute, Officer Foster.”
“Nurse Dreyfus,” Officer Foster said. “Please step aside if you’re done treating him.”
“I’m done,” the nurse said. “Brendan is now going to go back to his room to lie down. And you and I are going to talk.”
“Look, I need to get his statement first.”
She took Officer Foster by the hand and, ever so gently, like he was a toddler who wandered too close to a stove, maneuvered him over to the counter with Brendan’s file. She kept Officer Foster’s hand in hers.
Without looking at Brendan, she said, “Brendan, return to your room and take a rest. This situation is resolved in the eyes of the school. If you develop a headache, please return as soon as possible or call for assistance. Take the ice packs with you.”
Brendan got up and left, but not before seeing an unusual expression on Officer Foster’s face, as if the man was confused about where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. To Brendan, he appeared lost.
Tina and Poser were still waiting outside the nurse’s office, and they accosted him as soon as he appeared.
“Easy, easy,” he said.
“Oh, now it’s ‘easy, easy?’” Poser asked.
“Yeah, really,” Tina said. “Have you been practicing fighting during your off hours when you’re not sneaking around with your science stuff?”
Brendan shook his head as they walked towards the dorms. “Last I checked, I got my head beat in.”
“Only because Henry got in a sucker punch when you weren’t looking. And you were getting back up before it was broken up.”
“Yeah,” Poser said, “Check this out.”
Poser held the phone so Brendan could see it. Brendan groaned as he watched the video of him punching out Paul.
“One hit!” Tina said. “Just one hit, and you laid him out. With that kind of mean uppercut, you could throw on a pair of tights and go fight crime!”
11. The Attack
The seldom-used public address system came to life that Monday morning with a crackle and a warm hiss. Over the PA, Headmaster Appleton wished the students a good morning.
Brendan sat in his usual spot in English lit, but he kept his eyes both on the door and on Lucille, who was staring ice daggers at him from two rows back. The first time he glanced in her direction, she had mouthed something to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t need to translate, though, as her expression said enough. She was pissed, and it wasn’t over. Paul was nowhere to be seen and Henry wasn’t in any of their classes, so for now he felt relatively safe.
“All of you are aware of the alarming events in the news on Saturday. We’ve been trying to get the phone, cellular, and digital services back online. Even the satellite cable television has stopped working. I’ve been in contact with the local sheriff department, and he has assured me that whatever emergency is taking place won’t affect basic services in our area. We all want to know what is going on and have concerns over the welfare of family and friends. I promise that as soon as any of the affected channels of news or communication are reopened, I will address the student body to let you know.
“If the stress of this is making things difficult for you, if you need to process what is happening or just need to speak with someone, our staff is at your disposal at your counselor’s office. Let your teacher know, and they will accommodate your request as per my instructions. In the meantime, we will continue with our daily class schedule. We are restricting all off-campus activities and instructing the student body to not leave school grounds.
“Again, my thanks for your calm handling of this current crisis and for your demonstration of your maturity. Have a good morning.”
There were several snorts and smirks at the mention of calm and maturity. Some of his classmates looked directly at him and their grins widened. He ignored them. Even though much of the swelling had subsided, the telltale evidence of his recent fight was impossible to hide. His face was a mask of blue and red.
Two male students, both the athletic type but who apparently hadn’t yet fallen under Lucille’s spell, got up and went to the teacher to be excused so they could “process.” One elbowed the other as the teacher let them go.
While the teacher began her lesson, one girl asked Brendan, “What happened to you?”
Was this the only person in the entire school that wasn’t in the restaurant on Saturday?
“It’s a long story,” he muttered, and he wasn’t going to tell it. He tried to focus on the teacher, but soon zoned out, staring through the window at the golden sunlight painting the science building across the yard. He was surprised when class ended. He straightened up and collected his things. Lucille walked past his desk without a glance or a word. Maybe the day would be a good one. He wanted to talk to Vlad and see what was involved in putting together a basic radio. The electronics class even had a design for one in the network curriculum as an early extra credit assignment—but the school network was down.
“This is like school in the Stone Age,” Tina said as the A.V. Club gathered at a table for lunch.
“Except we have all the tools of the future, but none of them work,” Brendan said.
“It’s a tease, to be sure. Your face looks better.”
“Back to your ugly self in no time,” Poser said.
Someone in administration must have initiated a crisis protocol of comfort food. All of the usual fresh produce and healthy items were still there for the vegans, vegetarians, flexitarians, and pescatarians, but now the midday menu also included mac and cheese with bacon, crispy fried chicken, beef stew, fresh-baked bread, creamed spinach, and vanilla bean ice cream.
Tina was starting out with a small mountain of ice cream with a dollop of peanut butter on top, and a golden fried chicken thigh. Brendan cleaned out his own plate of mac and cheese before mentioning the radio.
“It would be easy,” Vlad said. “It would take less than an hour. But do you imagine that this blackout will last long enough to need one?”
“Everything’s been out all morning,” Poser said. “We could be in for a long outage. Before it was sporadic.”
“Not entirely,” Brendan said. “But you’d think they would do it at a peak hour to make any kind of statement.”
There came a murmur of agreements through full mouths. Tina was licking her fingers. Then Soren nodded in the direction of one of the doors: Lucille was coming in. She had Paul by an arm as if he were having trouble walking, while Henry brought up the rear. Paul’s face l
ooked swollen around the mouth. Henry spotted Brendan immediately, and the big sophomore’s jaw clenched.
Lucille sat Paul down at a table and headed for the food line. She greeted several students along the way, her smile bright, her hands touching shoulders as she passed.
“We should go,” Soren said.
“No,” Brendan said, and he was echoed by Poser, Tina, and Vlad. “That would make things worse. Both Paul and I have experienced some kind of reprieve by the administration. I don’t know what might be coming down the pipe as far as academic discipline, but we’re both still here. If there’s any chance of us remaining in school, we’ll both have to behave.”
“That’s you thinking rationally,” Vlad said. “You’re making assumptions for Paul.”
“What if he’s not doing the thinking?” Tina said.
“It’s a risk I’ll take. I won’t fire first.”
Lucille got a heaping tray of food and brought it over to Paul. He gazed dully at it and her and then began to eat.
“Can we please stop staring at them?” Brendan asked.
“How bad did you hurt him?” Vlad asked.
Brendan was wondering that himself.
***
The buildings cast their shadows across the walkways between the buildings as the late afternoon sun got low.
It had been a productive afternoon, and Brendan felt good. He wasn’t bothered by the swollen eye unless he touched it. All of the teachers in his classes kept things light and engaging. And he had a finished radio in his pack, mounted on a breadboard and powered by a nine-volt battery. Vlad had been correct: it had taken exactly an hour to build the thing.
A student walking behind him yelped. Brendan turned and saw she had fallen to her knees, a hand on her shoulder. A second later she went completely limp and pitched forward to the ground.
Brendan raced over to her, thinking maybe she’d been stung by a bee and had a reaction. A few other students were nearby, too, and one of them yelled, “Ow!” He fell, too.
Then Brendan saw them. Two men in dark clothes and masks were crouch-walking in his direction. Both carried short black weapons held up in front of their eyes. The weapons made spitting sounds. Two more students went down.
“Run!” Brendan yelled. He turned and began sprinting as a tiny black dart whizzed past his face. He heard a pffft-pffft-pffft behind him. Another student went down to the pavement. Brendan dodged randomly to the left, then ran straight, then ducked. Two more darts just missed him.
He made it to the corner of the humanities building where he had his civics class. A small group of students were heading the opposite direction and he almost collided with them.
“Watch it!” an upperclassman said. A dart struck the boy, and he collapsed.
Brendan flung himself into the building lobby, where a dozen students were walking around, most going towards the exit.
“There are men with guns coming!” he shouted. Most of the students ignored him. A couple laughed. He went to a fire alarm and pulled it down, and the bell began ringing. Then he heard screams behind him. One of the masked men was at the door firing point-blank at the cluster of students.
Pffft. Pffft.
Students were now running away from the entrance and down the hallways or up the stairs. Another girl fell. The man in the mask paused to reload. A tall kid Brendan didn’t know was just standing in front of the man, frozen in place. Brendan grabbed him by an arm. “Move it!” He ran down the hall.
The student followed, soon overtaking Brendan. There were closed doors to either side of the hallway. They emerged into another lobby with more stairs. Suddenly there came a crash from a high window. A small canister fell into the lobby and began spewing smoke. Gray gas quickly choked the hallway.
From up ahead he heard the staccato pfffft-pffft-pffft of another weapon discharging darts. They were surrounded.
The boy slipped from his grip, still running forward. Brendan tried the first door to his right. Locked. Tried the next across the hallway.
It opened.
At first he thought there was no one inside, but from behind a large desk he heard whimpering. He shut the door and turned the bolt. He hugged the wall and found himself holding his breath. The door shook. He heard a man outside say something in a low voice. Maybe they have radios. The students behind the desk was mewling louder and louder, begging someone under her breath, and asking for her mother. He wanted to tell her to shut up but was afraid to add to the noise.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down.
A pair of sharp pops came from outside, followed by a brief silence, then two more pops. Gunshots. He had heard the real thing a couple of times, and had played his share of video games with faithful audio effects. He thought that two different people were shooting but he knew sound could play tricks, and he wasn’t crazy enough to look. Was this the police, here after…how long had passed? A minute? Thirty? His heart raced and sweat made his shirt stick to his body.
The panicked girl screamed with every report from the gun, and the others hiding with her tried in vain to calm her down. Brendan took one of the student desks and pushed it against the door. Then he moved another.
“Someone help me,” he hissed.
A girl rose from behind the desk, keeping her head down as she headed over. There was a window, but whatever shootout was taking place seemed to be occurring on the opposite side of the building. They stacked up a dozen desks and chairs and got down with the others. The panicky girl was now sobbing softly while a classmate stroked her hair, promising that everything was going to be okay.
Brendan worried about the windows. How many assailants were there? Just the two? A dozen? And what if the gunshots came from attackers who weren’t interested in shooting students with darts? He could only pray the darts were tranquilizers. Without knowing what was going on, trying to leave would be stupid. What would his father do?
What he wouldn’t give for a giant-sized jet-powered drone with a blaster right at that moment. But he dismissed the thought. Stupidity like that had gotten plenty of people killed when they ran up against vigilantes who weren’t interested in playing by any set of supers rules, be they hero or villain, working as individuals or in small groups. Sometimes they were armed with bats. Sometimes they carried pistols, shotguns, and rifles.
Brendan patted the wood of the teacher’s desk. It was a solid piece of furniture. Maybe Tina would know if it could stop a bullet, but for now it was good enough. “We’re safe here,” he said to the sobbing girl, and saying it made him feel better.
They listened and waited.
***
“This is Officer Nick Foster,” said the voice on the address system. “The Dutchman Springs police have finished their search of the campus grounds and will be coming to each room in due course. Continue to shelter in place. It appears all of the assailants have been apprehended, but we’re not taking any chances. Stay put, and we’ll get to you soon.”
This was the fifth announcement in two hours. No one had moved from behind the desk. Brendan’s legs were cramped. The sobbing girl had nodded off for a while but was now awake. When finally a soft knock came at the door, she said, “Oh my god, it’s them.” She began hyperventilating.
From the door, a voice called, “This is Officer Glenn. I’m coming in.”
Brendan heard the jingle of keys, and then the door nudged the barricade. Officer Glenn identified himself again. Brendan recognized the guard as the one who had chased him that night at the science building. Brendan also saw a pair of teachers out in the hallway.
“It’s okay,” Brendan said to the others. “We can go.”
They cleared the stacked classroom furniture and let Officer Glenn in. He checked the room and all of its corners. He rousted another student from inside a cabinet. Brendan hadn’t even seen the boy hiding there, and was amazed that someone with such a large build could have squeezed into such a tight space.
They joined other students in t
he hall and were shepherded outside. The acrid smell of the smoke grenade lingered. Scattered backpacks, tablets, and water bottles still lay about where they had been dropped, but otherwise, Brendan didn’t see many signs of what had happened. No blood, no bullet holes, no bodies.
They were all taken to the gym. Several teachers were doing quick triage on each entering student to see if anyone needed care. There were a few bumps and bruises and plenty of frayed nerves. Everyone got a bottle of water. Small groups of students were talking, hugging, or looking confused. Brendan saw Vlad first, as the large boy was easy to spot in the crowd. The rest of the A.V. Club was with him.
“Hail, Cesar,” Poser said, but his face betrayed his somber mood. There came a muttering of greetings from the others and pats on Brendan’s shoulder. “You’re okay?”
Brendan nodded. “Locked myself up in a classroom. What’s the news?”
“They haven’t told us much,” Tina said. “I was in my dorm room when the shooting started, but I think that was our school security shooting it out with the bad guys. The dorm monitor told us to stay put. After an hour, they had everyone come down here.”
“It was crazy,” Poser said. “I saw security heading south towards the academics buildings with their weapons out. I didn’t see who they engaged. It didn’t make sense until we got here and were told about the attackers. “
“I was surprised finding out our guys even had guns,” Vlad said.
“You were watching too?” Brendan asked.
“Of course. From my room. I heard the screaming first, then a minute later our security is rushing across the courtyard. I had to know what was going on.”
“Did any of you think it might be a bad idea to put your face to a window when shots were fired?”
“I hid,” Soren said.
“You’re the smartest of us,” Tina said.
After a while the headmaster came into the gym. He went to one of the teachers first and they spoke for a moment, and then he moved among the students. He listened and spoke with each huddled group for a minute before moving on. As he approached the A.V. Club, he answered what at first looked like a phone, but then Brendan saw it was actually a radio. The headmaster’s face grew grave. He nodded and put the radio away.
Supervillain High Page 9