3.??They’re hostiles here to kill me.
Yeah, putting it all in a mental list like that makes me feel sooo much better. If I get out of this alive, I’ll be sure to tell my Threat Assessment 101 instructor at Langley how great that worked to help me stay focused and in control.
As I move down the hall, I peek through the small glass window on the doors of the two nearest classrooms and find that everything is normal: the teachers are in command of the rooms, and the only thing students are fighting off is post-lunch sleepiness. That means no one else heard the scream. It might also mean the men really are thieves—possibly combat-armed thieves—but nothing more. No other classrooms are being taken over by force.
I hold on to that idea as I make my way to the main entrance. I consider going to the office, but what good would that do? The thieves—or more likely the hacker who must be working with them—have already cut the landlines and blocked our cell phone signals, which means I need to get out of the building. No one in the office can help us now.
Then I remember the undercover security guards who pretend to be part of the maintenance and grounds crew. They’re probably outside somewhere, clueless to the breach. We need the police, but until I can somehow get word to them, those guards can be a first line of defense. Despite their best efforts to look like the kind of employees no one notices, I’m certain the school hired both men because they’re ex-military. They are recent additions to the security system that is so appealing to the type of parents who send their kids to Carlisle. I need to find those guys.
As I reach Corridor A, my heart rate begins to slow to a pace that might not kill me. I’m in the homestretch. My way out is in view, and just beyond the main entrance is the school office. I’m glad to see there are no teachers or students freaking out at Jonesy’s window. I quickly cover the fifteen yards between me and the entrance, but as soon as I turn down the short corridor leading to the front door, the same one that had been propped open by the matchbook cover, I see that I’m too late.
The bulletproof, double-thick windows are already obscured. Instead of sunshine, blue sky, and the Boulder foothills, I only see cold, gray metal.
The gunmen must have hacked the security system and lowered the steel shutters over the front doors. Probably over the rear and side entrances, too. And except for the people in my chem class, no one even knows they’re in trouble yet.
I stand there a second, still trying to hold on to the idea that these guys really are thieves. And it isn’t just wishful thinking. Most everyone at Carlisle comes from families who are rich, powerful, connected, or all of the above. It’s possible these guys are here to steal—not something, but someone. This might be a kidnapping. They might be here for Joel Easter, ransoming him for the encryption technology his father is working on at NIST. Or they’ve come for the fourth new student, that girl whose mother literally owns a gold mine in the foothills outside of town.
But that’s only a guess. Since I’m not sure what their true goal is, I need to assume it’s bad. And now that I’m trapped inside with everyone else, I need to be as prepared as possible to fight them. First stop is my locker for a few emergency supplies. Only problem? It’s back in Corridor B, just outside my chem class. I retrace my steps, moving more quickly than before, since this time I may not get as lucky going undetected. At some point, if the men really are thieves, they’ll have to leave my chemistry class to steal whatever it is they’re here for—unless there are more than two of them.
That thought nearly stops me in my tracks. I have to push myself to keep moving.
As I turn the tumbler to the last number on my combination lock, I seriously regret not oiling my locker, because of course it jams up on me. No choice, I need those supplies. I bang my fist against the locker door, grab the pack the second it pops open, shut the door, and run like hell twenty feet to the alcove leading to the boys’ bathroom.
I take a look around the corner and see it—my locker door didn’t shut completely. It’s only open a hair, imperceptible unless you’re looking for it. But people skilled in stealth infiltration will look for it. Can’t go back now, can’t leave the alcove, so I stand there, waiting for what I know is coming.
And there it is. The sound of a doorknob turning, then my chemistry classroom’s door opening. I don’t hear any footsteps, probably because the thief is wearing rubber-soled shoes. But I know he’s coming. There’s a collapsible baton in my bag, at the very bottom, hidden beneath a bunch of harmless-looking stuff in case of a surprise locker check. But it’s the only weapon I have that might stop this guy. And he’s close, even though I still can’t hear him. The second I shove my hand into my backpack to feel around for the baton, my hand rattles one of my makeshift, locker-safe weapons—a sock full of ball bearings.
Oh no. Did he hear that? Now I don’t even have the element of surprise. Okay. I can either run, fight, or … hope he doesn’t know who I am. If he really is here for me, I’m screwed. But if he’s a thief, as far as this guy knows, I’m just a kid in a hallway. That’s a normal thing in a high school, right? I’m just Peter Smith. I’ll just act like—
That’s when my near panic attack is interrupted by a buzzing over the PA system.
It’s Headmistress Dodson.
“Students, faculty, and staff—I am calling an unscheduled assembly. Please report to the auditorium, in ABC formation, beginning at one o’clock.”
Her message is brief, but long enough for me to know the assembly is not the kind we’ve rehearsed along with fire drills. Dodson is trying to hold it together, and probably no one else detected it but me, but her Voice-of-God tone was gone. It had crept just a step higher. Dodson is terrified.
CHAPTER 8
I hold my breath and peek around the corner again. No one there. Guess the announcement sent him back into the room. I make a dash for the office again. Dodson obviously knows what’s going on, but if she’s afraid, there must be hostiles in the office, too. I have to figure out a way to find out what she knows without getting either of us killed.
Back in Corridor A, there’s no activity in the hall, but the service window is still open and I can hear murmurs of conversation. I drop to the floor and crawl until I’m just beneath the window, where I hear an unfamiliar female voice.
“Is this all of your office staff? Is everyone accounted for?”
“Yes, we’re all here,” Dodson says. “It’s just the four of us.”
I run through the list of office staff. There are usually five: Dodson, her assistant, the registrar, the financial officer, and Jonesy. Since Dodson doesn’t explain, I’m guessing someone called in sick or took a vacation day. But I’m hoping all five were here at some point, someone got away, and Dodson is smart enough not to mention that fifth employee.
“What was that about the ABC formation?” the woman asks in a Southern accent, maybe Mississippi or Louisiana, but only a hint. She hasn’t lived there for a long time.
“It’s a staggered movement plan, so we don’t have the whole school moving to one location at once,” Dodson explains, sounding calmer than she did just a minute ago on the PA system. “Students and staff move according to the corridor they’re currently in and where we’ve directed them to go. The auditorium is on Corridor B, so those students on all three floors will head out first. Corridor A will begin moving two minutes later. C is last. All of our clocks are digital and centralized. Everyone should be in the auditorium within six minutes.”
“You run a tight ship,” the woman says, and I can imagine Dodson smiling at the compliment if she wasn’t being held against her will. “Knowing two of us are on the inside should help ease the panic.”