Their Bit

by Corbert Windage

stress situations. That, and the ability of self-sacrifice to a greater goal was what he counted on most as he positioned himself in front and began to speak.

  Lauren – Revelation

 

  "Folks, I don't know how much time we have so I'll be brief. I gave the 'pork chop' code, signifying the need for a lockdown because we have a situation that has potentially deadly consequences for both the staff and students here at Harrison.

  At approximately 9:48 this morning Mrs. Glass, noticing that the land- line communication was down went outside to use her vide phone. When she received a signal she was stunned to see video messages sent from various sources, mainly parents in Schonefield, showing what appears to be an invasion force of well-armed men, soldiers, taking over the town. Their nationality is unknown as what little audio was heard was in English. The last message on her vide coming at approximately 9:09."

  Although no one present had any reason to doubt the veracity of the headmaster's statement, George still needed to share its sheer enormity. He had plugged Mrs. Glass's phone into the overhead, and at his signal the overhead lights were turned off.

  The first image was of her grandson Danny running around a yard playing with a puppy. "Sorry, I have Mrs. Glass monitoring our firing range security camera." He paused and brought out a walkie-talkie requesting Mrs. Glass to come down to cafeteria. She arrived lingering for just a moment before advancing the file to the next vide. The contrast was immediate.

  "Ronnie, it's Deb. Honey, I just got within range of town and Trish Dolfinger just called and said that there are men gonin' around the town with rifles like it was the huntin' season. I didn't think anything about it until she started screaming that they were shootin at people right there on her street. I'm just past the Point and Ronnie there's smoke rising from different areas of town. Here let me stop and you can see for yourself."

  The gathering was treated to a jumpy picture of her glove box were she sat the phone down to make the turn onto the observation lookout. The teachers heard her kill the motor. Then the image jumped again as she opened the door finally settling on a long distance image of Schonefield.

  "Shit fire and save the matches! I hope your getting this Ronnie." Mrs. Glass smiled weakly despite the growing magnitude of the danger. Deb's southern heritage somehow always managed to assert itself at just the right moment with some homespun idioms, the results of which inevitably left Ronnie Glass laughing to tears. Ronnie only hoped there would be a later to share drinks and laugh together once again.

  Deb's vidphone wasn't equipped with long-range zoom but it didn't matter. The panoramic view of distant Schonefield, normally clear on a beautiful cloudless spring day such as today, was a murky island reminiscent of industrial steel cities working at full bore long before the advent of the EPA. Several separate plumes of billowing smoke -serious fires – were beginning to flatten out above the town as they encountered the cooler air.

  Veronica Glass and Deb Tensor had been friends for years. Like Danny Glass, Deb's grandson Jacob was also an elementary student at HST. Deb's voice interrupted the macabre tableau.

  "Ronnie, when you get this, take care of Jake. There's no way under God's green earth I'm going back down there. We've both known Trish for a parcel of years now. She's a pain sometimes; but I've never known her to be either a liar or prone to much exaggeration. Something's bad happening down there and until the picture is clearer I'm heading to Manning and spread the word that we need some big guns of our own, the Guard, the Army, something. Jeez, I wonder if some wacko militia group finally popped its cork and decide to start their Second American Revolution with Schonefield. Either that or relations with Canada took a decided bad turn since I watched the news last. Either way, take care of my grandbaby. I'll call ya later."

  A low murmur coursed through the room. The headmaster went quiet, knowing that people need time to absorb the initial shock. But it had to be a little time. Lauren placed her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Braden recovered from his own shock and placed his arm around her shoulders.

  "My parents. Yours," she stammered.

  "I know. But we can't panic. We don't know the whole situation," he whispered. "Listen."

  "People we don't have a lot of time if my rough calculations are anywhere near correct. Approximately twenty-five minutes ago Officer Lawrence Harper here, of the Schonefield P.D. barely escaped with his life when he encountered a tractor- trailer these…invaders are using as transports. They were blocking Prairie Point, exactly where Debbie Tensor was a little over an hour ago. As you know that's barely five miles from here. We don't have time or I would suggest you look out front at his cruiser. It's a miracle that it held up long enough to bring him here, thank God. Officer Harper is only slightly wounded thanks to divine intervention and some sharp forethought on his part."

  Lauren could see the ace bandage and the hasty dressing underneath the torn sleeve of his service uniform. The crowd mutter started back up.

  The Headmaster continued. "Please give me one more minute."

  He then went on to relate the last vide-cast documenting the fall of the police station.

  "Friends, we don't have a lot of time to debate so I'm going to tell you my decision regarding our immediate course of action. Let me just say that no one here is bound by my decision. Each of us must decide for his or her self what their best course of action is."

  He drew a deep breath. To Lauren it seemed he was the only one breathing in the entire room. Even the cafeteria staff had paused in their hurried stuffing of small brown bags that Lauren had only now noticed.

  He glanced quickly at his watch and went on.

  "Approximately ten minutes ago I ordered Braden O'Day to begin a weapons preparation of our entire arms room. All M1's and private weapons will be ready in about," He turned to face Braden. "What do you figure Colonel another ten minutes?"

  Braden nodded, "About that sir," he answered.

  "In ten minutes," Morgan went on. "We'll have weapons ready. At that time I want to assemble the students behind the school, and under the protection of the Rifles, and the supervision of the upper class children lead them in a southeasterly direction toward Breakers road. With our communications here I've gotten a message through to the state police and I'm sure they passed it on to the Guard. I quickly informed them of the situation, as we presently know it and my decision regarding the children. Armed with that knowledge that should be one of the first points of ingress for our ground troops. Naturally, I expect air support long before that. However, not knowing the scale of the attack, nor how they are treating civilians, I feel it would be criminal to expose our charges to such risks without attempting to assure their safety. Well, there you have it. Like I said we haven't much time so if anyone has anything to say, now's the time."

  One hand rose. "Yes, Ms. Watts."

  Katherine Watts stood amid a crowd of stunned faces.

  "Headmaster, you said the children were to be sent off, if I understood you correctly, under the supervision of the upper class?"

  Mr. Morgan nodded adding, "And the Rifles."

  "Then what are we teachers expected to do?"

  "I would ask the teachers to stay," he paused for the briefest of moments, "and fight."

  Lauren would always remember the next few moments as controlled pandemonium. There was no shouting, but the civility of raising one's hand to ask a question went out the window.

  "Are we expected to fight in the open?"

  "How long must we stay and fight?"

  "How much ammunition do we have?"

  "Why don't we wait until the Army arrives?"

  "How many are we up against?"

  Patrolman Harper had jumped to his feet and stared at the Headmaster as if he had taken leave of his sanity. The questions stopped as he made his way to the front of the gathering.

  "With all due respect Mr. Morgan," he turned to the assembly, "and teachers. But sending the children out there without protection is suicidal; no worse t
han that, it's murder."

  Mr. Morgan looked at him calmly. "And what would you propose Officer Harper?"

  "Worst case scenario, if what you say is true, we're held hostage until the Army arrives."

  Mr. Morgan nodded. "And then?"

  Harper paused. Clearly he had not thought that far ahead in his argument.

  "Then they, whoever they are, will realize the hopelessness of their position and surrender, and everyone goes free," He said, lacking conviction.

  It was like he had flipped a switch. Even as he said the words the hostility to his proposal became palpable. Concerned frowns became scowls of anger punctuated by low-grade obscenities. Harper stood firm, realizing that the combined military experience in the room probably ran well over a hundred years. Still, they had to be made to understand that they would be going up against an organized military force out there, not some home grown crazy separatist movement gone wild.

  "Listen to me people. Please," he attempted to rebound. "Whoever this is has numbers and the firepower of an army. M1's? You've got to be kidding me! They have assault weapons and they know how to use them. They sledge hammered my cruiser more than a quarter mile away, across a valley with trees offering some protection and me hauling freight at better than fifty. If I had to guess the time they had a decent open shot on me it couldn't have been more than five seconds max! It is a miracle I'm here at all and not dead at the