by Alex Dire
But where would he and Richie go? They could return to the condo to wrap things up there. However, they couldn’t stay long. Skeete might assume that Norman would flee, so he’d still keep a watch on it. Norman had taken refuge in the woods before. However, winter was coming. Not fun. He had Richie to tend to now as well.
The first period bell rang, interrupting the flow of his mind. Norman snapped out of his thoughts and scanned the classroom. Today he had his special class first: the one he’d struggled so hard to control. All the characters were here: Declan, Felicia, Matt Barnes, Juda, and a host of others.
The first period bell stopped. Silence ensued for one second too long, awakening Norman’s curiosity. In the next second, Richie also raised an eyebrow. One second more and the class began to notice. The morning announcements had failed to begin. Five more seconds passed. Still nothing.
Something was wrong. “Class, your assignment is on the board,” said Norman, “I’ll be right back.” He looked over at Richie, “The class is yours.”
Richie’s face flushed red. “But,” he began. However, Norman was already out the door.
Norman walked toward the office, his pace quickening as he neared it. Kelly Houser stuck her head out of her door as Norman passed.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m going to check it out right now,” replied Norman.
As she closed her door Norman heard the rumblings that occur in a classroom when routine gets interrupted at MLK night school.
Norman strode as fast as he could without breaking into a run. When he reached the door, frosted glass confronted him obscuring his view into the office. Why do they use this damned stuff in schools?
He reached for the door knob to open it. Just as his fingers touched the metal of the knob, he hesitated. He placed his ear against the glass of the door. He heard none of the usual bustle of the office that normally greets visitors as school began. He listened harder, tuning into frequencies that only vampires could detect. His efforts brought him nothing but silence. Norman twisted the handle of the door. His hyper-sensitive hearing heard lubricated metal surfaces rubbing together within the latch. Then click. He paused for another instant to hear if his tiny sound caused a reaction within the office. Still nothing.
He delicately pushed the door until a sliver of light defined its edge. Still no response from the office. He widened the opening to an inch. A band of light came through. He could see fractions of the office: the back of a chair, portion of a calendar on the wall.
He increased the opening enough to peer through. The office seemed frozen in silence and stillness.
His heart raced as he stepped in. His fangs descended. He stood in the office, door fully opened and saw no trace of life. This is what normal school offices must look like at this time of night: except with their lights off.
“Hello?” he announced. The office replied with its unusual silence. “Is anybody…” He stopped mid-question as the door to the Headmaster’s office stood out as even more unusual. Headmaster Shapiro never closed his door. He had an “open door policy,” as he called it. Few ever took him up on it. Furthermore, Norman could see through the translucent window on the door that the lights were out. Norman cursed himself for announcing his presence moments ago.
He turned his focus to the Headmaster’s office door, once again tuning in to perceive with his heightened senses: nothing. Perhaps he missed it? Whatever happened here could be over.
Then he heard it: the first sound to break through the hum of office lights and buzz of the faulty speaker in the office. Norman heard the tiny sound of a liquid drop. Drip. It seemed odd, like water but more viscous. He twitched his head back around to the front desk toward the sound. The familiar face of Gladyce Hornblend failed to smile and ask “How you doing sweetie?” as he had become used to.
Norman took cautious steps toward the front reception desk. Every inch closer revealed more. First he saw the top of Gladyce’s empty seat back. Then the old tear in the middle which revealed foam stuffing. Then, finally the seat itself, upon which rested a severed hand gripping a telephone handset. The open gore at the wrist slowly leaked blood which gathered at the edge of the seat and formed another drop. Drip.
Norman rushed the rest of the way to the desk and saw the remainder of the scene unfold in fast motion. Gladyce lay on the floor directly behind the desk in a large pool of blood. Two holes in her neck revealed the horror of her final moments.
Gladyce had told Norman all the secrets he needed to know about this old, bizarre building and the people in it. She had made his first days here go much more smoothly. She was a kind soul. She did not deserve to die like this. Who would do this? The answer came so quickly to Norman’s head that it nearly overlapped the question: Skeete.
Anger mixed with Norman’s fear. He swiveled his head to Headmaster Shapiro’s door. He strode across the floor to the darkened office.
Norman grasped the handle, turning and pushing with one swift motion.
Despite what he’d just seen, the view inside took him by surprise. In the back corner of the room he saw four bodies thrown in a pile. Assistant Headmaster Bob Vargas lay on the bottom with one eye torn out and his face in a pool of blood on the floor. Haphazardly stacked on top of him, Guidance Counselor Andrea Melinsky stared sickeningly upward, her head rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees. Another body had been strewn, face down, on top of Andrea with no visible wounds. The stocky build, sweat pants, and whistle around the neck told Norman this was Bob Allen, the phys. ed. teacher. The blood seeping out from under him told Norman something ghastly had been done to his digestive organs. Finally, on top, was a body placed in a sitting position with hands crossed on her lap. This was Sarah Wheelhouse. Norman knew this despite her lack of a head. He knew because of the poodle skirt she wore. It must have resembled the skirts she wore in the 1950s. All four people appeared whiter than death, two holes in each of their necks.
Norman absorbed the scene in the corner of the Headmaster’s office in less than a second. In the remainder of that second he saw the cherry on top of this macabre dessert. Headmaster Shapiro lay draped over his own desk. His eyes had been propped open and mouth twisted into a permanent smile. His heart had been removed from his chest. It was now firmly gripped by the figure sitting behind the desk in the headmaster’s chair: Skeete.
Skeete tossed the heart into the waste paper basket. She licked her fingers. “Welcome to our dinner party, Norman. The appetizers were delicious. So sorry you won’t be around for the main course.” With these words Skeete reached into her jacket pocket. Norman tensed his muscles and crouched, ready to move when two vampires surprised Norman from both sides and grabbed his arms. Norman recognized them as Skeete’s henchmen from the night before.
Norman quickly looked back at Skeete who stood up, her hand still inside her jacket. As she reached her full height, she withdrew her hand from her pocket. It emerged with a white handkerchief. A touch of relief mixed in with Norman’s fear. Skeete delicately dabbed the corners of her mouth, tainting the handkerchief with red spots. As she finished she said, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” She rose from her chair and replaced the handkerchief. She then slid her hand in the other side of her jacket and withdrew a wooden stake as she began to walk around the desk.
Norman made desperate tugs at the hands that gripped his arms. He knew he probably couldn’t break free but he struggled anyway. Skeete chuckled at the futile activity.
With an almost sympathetic smirk, Skeete said, “Oh, Norman. Just close your eyes. It’ll all be over in…”
A knock rang out from the main office that caught the four vampires off guard. Skeete’s smile vanished as she tried to see around Norman and her henchmen. They all listened.
Another knock cracked through the frozen moment. The corners of Skeete’s lips curled up. “More dinner guests.”
Norman attempted an even tone, “Come back later, we’re in a meeting.”
Skeete rais
ed an eyebrow. “Touching. But you can’t save them, Norman.”
Then, from outside the main office door, a girl’s voice, “Mr. Bernard? What’s going on?” The door of the office swung open. Felecia Gomez burst in.
11
Class Dismissed
“Mr. Bernard, you’re leaving us? Mr. Taylor said…” Felicia stopped short when she saw Norman framed by the two henchmen holding him from either side. “What the hell?”
Then Keon ran into the office. “Bernie, I can’t pass without…” he stopped next to Felicia.
Norman lurched in the grips of the two vampires to no avail. Echoing through the hall came more sounds of approaching students.
Norman felt a hand wrap around his neck and the very sharp point of a stake pressing into his back. Skeete's cold breath was on his ear.
“Don’t move,” whispered Skeete as she locked his neck in her elbow.
“You came for me. Take me. Leave them alone.”
“Oh no,” said Skeete. “I want you to see this.”
Norman yanked at the henchmen's grip but felt Skeete's stake push harder into his back. Sweat coated his face. The students would reach the office and Skeete would slaughter them.
Felicia glanced at Skeete over Norman’s shoulder. “What the fuck, Skeete?”
“Nice to see you too,” replied the white haired vampire. “Phillip, Jason, go to work.”
A spiky-haired thug released Norman’s arm. “I’ve got the girl.”
“Why does Phil always get the girl?” said Jason.
“Just lucky I guess,” said Phillip.
The two vampires released Norman, springing at Felecia and Keon. Felicia dodged left but Phillip careened into her. She hit the floor with Phillip sitting on her abdomen, pinning her arms down.
His fangs shot out with a hiss. Felicia wrenched her head side to side in frantic spasms.
Norman panted. His muscles tensed, but the point pressed deeper into his back preventing him from leaving the doorway between the main office and Shapiro's.
Keon had managed to slip a knife out of his shoe. Jason hesitated.
Two more students piled into the office. First Tyreese Davis, the boy who’d offered the pencil; then Darius Dunn joined the little alliance. Keon, knife in hand, stood his ground, rigid with confidence.
Phillip looked up from Felicia at Keon’s little group. “Save some for me,” he said, then returned his attention to his victim.
“Get off me, you freak,” shouted Felicia. Phillip gripped her throat with one fist, silencing her. Felicia grabbed futilely at his arm.
Declan O’Malley thudded his way into the office and instantly snapped his glance over to Felicia.
“No,” whimpered Norman, helplessly. Skeete was coming for me. This is my fault.
Declan launched himself at Phillip. The vampire possessed far greater strength than Declan, but physics was physics. Declan’s mass crashed into him, knocking him off Felicia as they tumbled against the reception desk.
Keon charged at Jason, followed by Darius and Tyreese. Jason grinned. Keon plunged the knife into the vampire’s stomach shouting, “We got you, Bernie.”
Jason laughed and spat blood in Keon's face. “This little rat has guts, Phillip.” He grabbed Keon's hand and pulled, sliding the knife out. Keon grunted but could not resist. Jason turned Keon's hand around to point the knife back. Tyreese and Darius grabbed the vampire’s arms to stop his slow-motion stab, but his movements seemed completely unaffected by their efforts.
Another student, Cindy Kim, ran through the office doorway and froze. Her eyes darted around the room and finally rested on Felica who pushed herself back against the wall clutching at her throat. “Felicia!” she shouted and ran to her friend, crouching beside her.
Declan punched at Phillip's face, but the unaffected vampire rolled onto his back and kicked at Declan’s chest launching him over the reception desk. Declan crashed behind it out of view. Phillip leapt up and landed atop the desk. He crouched and spewed another hiss.
The tip of the knife pressed against Keon’s chest. Keon backed up until his back pressed against the wall.
“Now I'm going to tear your throat out, little rat," said Jason. He smiled, displaying his fangs.
From the reception desk, Phillip sprang into the air above Declan. The corners of the vampire's mouth curled up as he seemed to hover above Declan for an instant. Then gravity pulled him to his victim.
Some things, however, happen faster than gravity. A blur of bright yellow shot from the door through the office and intercepted the falling thug in mid-descent.
“Richie!” shouted Norman.
Richie and Phillip smashed against a picture of the President of the United States hanging on the wall behind the desk.
The odds had improved. Norman twitched but the stake pressed harder into his back. Damn it!
Cindy helped the gasping Felicia to her feet and pulled her toward the door. Felicia looked back behind the reception desk.
The desk vibrated as Richie and Phillip scuffled. Finally, Richie stood up, holding Phillip in a head lock. The henchman squirmed and wriggled. Richie squeezed.
He can’t keep this up long. Norman clenched his teeth waiting for a moment to try to intervene.
Then Declan stood up behind the desk, a gash across his face. He rubbed the cut and looked at his blood on his hand. He narrowed his eyes as he wound up to punch Richie’s captive in the face.
“No, Declan,” commanded Richie. “In my belt.” Richie reached down. Phillip nearly squirmed loose and Riche snapped his hand back up to keep his grip on his enemy's neck.
Declan balked mid-punch and looked down to Richie's belt. He moved closer and grasped. This put him eye to eye with the struggling vampire who squirmed, entrapped by Richie’s arm.
The reception desk blocked Norman’s view of Richie’s belt, but he knew. Smart pupil.
The thug grabbed Declan by the throat with one hand. Riche clasped his fingers around Phillip’s forearm, twisting. The bone snapped and Phillip roared in Declan’s face. He held onto the boy’s throat but clearly struggled to maintain his grip.
Declan’s eyes bulged. He grasped at the vampire’s hand around his neck. Even weakened by his broken arm and severed nerves and muscles, Phillip still proved difficult to dislodge. Richie tried to pull Phillip away but only ended up dragging Declan along with them.
Declan’s whole face swelled red. Phillip's nails dug into his neck and lines of blood flowed from the punctures. Declan reached down, but, held at the end of Philip's arm, couldn't reach Richie's belt. The boy punched at the vampire's face to no effect. Richie swung his opponent wildly. The movement caused Phillip's nails to tear and dig further. Declan’s anatomy began to show its human limits.
“Come on!” shouted Cindy. “Let's go.”
Felicia pulled away and sprinted toward Richie and Declan.
Across the room, Jason turned back to Keon. He lifted Keon's hand, still holding the knife, up to the youth's throat. The other students pulled desperately at Jason's arm, but couldn't deflect the blade. Sweat poured from Keon’s face.
Skeete whispered into Norman’s ear, “This is getting good.” Norman’s heart beat out of control. Watching his students get slaughtered would kill him even if Skeete didn’t.
Declan stopped punching and wrapped his arms around Phillip, pulling him closer into a bizarre embrace. Declan's and Richie’s eyes met. Richie nodded once. Declan mirrored the gesture and reached again for Richie's belt.
Richie released his grip around Phillip's throat. With a desperate gasp, Phillip let go of Declan. Richie pulled the vampire's elbows behind his back into a lock.
“Now!” shouted Richie.
Declan raised his right arm above his head. He gripped the sharpened piece of a broomstick handle with a leather loop on one end. With a grunt, he drove it down.
The makeshift stake penetrated layers of skin, muscle and finally, the heart. The impaled vampire let out a scream that vibrat
ed throughout the room as if from a chorus in agony.
Felicia stopped her charge and covered her ears tightening her face.
Blood sprayed from the edges of the wound covering Declan. The inhuman scream faded and Philip’s body slumped to the floor.
Cindy covered her mouth, but vomit spewed through her fingers. “Help,” she gurgled. “Somebody help.”
Across the room, Jason released Keon's hand and leapt on top of the office desk. "You'll pay for that." He kicked Declan against the wall. Declan slammed to the ground with bits of plaster sprinkling from above.
Felicia crouched beside him, checking his throat. Cindy joined them. “Grab his arm,” said Felicia. “Pull.”.
Jason sprang onto Richie. They collapsed behind the desk.
Felicia turned from Declan. “Mr. Taylor!” She released Declan and crawled behind the desk.
“Imbecile!" shouted Skeete. Her grasp on Norman's neck relaxed, slightly. Norman twisted around within Skeete's grip causing the point of the stake to slip along his side. He butted his forehead into Skeete's nose with a crack and pushed with his whole strength against her chest. Her grip broke and she flew backward over the principal's desk and fell to the floor in a jumble with Shapiro's body.
Norman spun around to join the fray. He crouched to leap over the front desk. Something rustled behind him. A piercing pain tore through his back. He fell to the ground, writhing. The point of Skeete’s stake stuck through the front of his white-collared shirt, missing his heart by inches. A ring of blood spread from the wound.
Felicia screamed with rage and stood up from behind the desk. She raised both hands gripping the sharpened broomstick handle with the leather loop on one end. Then she dropped down and thrust the stake simultaneously. Jason roared in pain.
The thug’s cry, though, was not a death scream. Felicia had missed her mark, but she may have bought time.
Norman spun around to face Skeete. Pain dropped him to his knees. Skeete leapt atop the Shapiro's desk.