Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

Crouching, she peered under the tables. Nothing but wooden legs.

She straightened again. The three exchanged glances. Zoe pointed to the double doors at the end of the room leading into the kitchen. Nodding, Sylvain hurried towards her and Allie followed suit.

She tried to imagine what she’d do if she found Jerry – he was the best of all the teachers. Highly trained. Lethal. Muscular.

Her teacher.

How would she fight him?

I’d just do it, she decided with cold determination.

But the idea scared the hell out of her.

This time, Zoe went first – springing through the doors in a clean, athletic leap.

Industrial-sized dishwashers burbled in a corner. Giant refrigerators hummed. But the room was empty.

They searched the low cupboards and looked under the gigantic butcher block. Nothing.

Sylvain cocked an eyebrow and she nodded.

The next room along the corridor was the great hall.

It was Allie’s turn to go first. She waited until the others were in place before reaching for the door knob. The metal felt cold beneath her fingers but it turned easily. The door swung open without a sound.

The long, elegant ballroom could hold several hundred revellers. It was easy to imagine them now, swirling across the polished oak floor, drinking champagne, laughing. Empty, it had a hollow, ghostly feel. There were no windows here – the far end of the room was lost in shadows.

Allie’s chest felt tight.

Again they spread out under heavy, metal light fixtures. They glowed like a thousand candles when lit. Now, they were dark and cool.

The room was virtually devoid of furniture, which made searching easier. They kept pace with each other as they walked down the length of the ballroom. The floor felt clean and smooth beneath Allie’s bare feet, as if it was swept every day, even when it wasn’t used.

At the back of the room, stacks of chairs and a few tables had been pushed to the side, waiting for the next gala event. Moving in near perfect sync they all crouched low to look beneath them.

Nothing. Not even dust.

There were no closets here or cupboards. No places to hide. So when they reached the back wall they turned in unison and headed back out again without a word.

The hallway was still and silent.

The next door along was a utility closet Allie could never remember noticing before. It held mops, buckets and other cleaning supplies, and reminded her uneasily of the place where she’d hidden in Brixton Hill School the night she and Mark were arrested. An event that led her here, to this day. This moment.

A split second in time that changed everything.

What if that never happened? she wondered as they closed the door again. What if I’d never gone out that night to tag the school? Where would I be now?

But there wasn’t time to dwell. They were nearing the last door in the hallway – the library.

By now their routine was set. Allie and Zoe flanked the entrance. When they were in place, Sylvain stepped forward and reached for the handle.

They all heard the noise at the same time. A faint crash. The sound of exertion or struggle muffled by the thick wood of the door.

The moment seemed to freeze. Allie felt Sylvain’s body tense. Next to him, Zoe frowned and cocked her head, alert but tiny, like a bird poised for flight.

Then Sylvain threw his shoulder against the door, and they all spilled into the room.

At first they could see nothing but the forest of bookshelves that towered above them and sprawled out in all directions beneath the dim, antique lighting. Instinctively, Allie started to move, but Sylvain flung out his arm, stopping her and Zoe. For a split second they stood still. Then they heard it again. The sound of flesh against flesh, of breath forced out, a stifled cry. The thud of something falling.

‘That way.’ Zoe pointed with eager assurance across the room.

They took off at a run, sticking close together this time. They were nearly to the mid-point of the library when they saw Eloise and Jerry. They were just outside the study carrels – in fact, one of the carrels still stood open, light and colour pouring through its small, carefully disguised door.

That’s where he hid, Allie realised numbly.

The two were fighting viciously. Eloise’s long, dark hair had come free of its clip and flowed down her slender back as she swung a kick at Jerry’s neck. Her aim was unerring but Jerry was fast and he dodged her foot with frightening ease, bobbing up with his fist raised.

He said something then that Allie didn’t hear and Eloise whirled, elbows out like pikes. This time she connected, striking him hard in the chest. He winced but still rolled out of reach when she sliced a punch to his face.

That was when he saw them.

Allie saw his gaze skitter across their faces and she thought, for a second, a hint of regret shadowed his eyes.

‘Get him,’ Sylvain said.