Four of Clubs

19

Rutherford was darker than I'd ever seen it. Due to the manual shutdown, the emergency lights had shut off too, so the only source of light was the windows, which the hallways didn't have many of.

Ian and I were crouched down in one of the halls, each of us holding a smoke bomb in our hands. His half-zipped backpack was filled with the rest for when we needed to reload. I peeked around the corner we were hiding behind-- there was a small group of teachers lingering not too far down the corridor. 

I could make out parts of their conversation as they discussed the sudden loss of power, but tuned out when Ian whispered my name. I turned back to see him pulling out his lighter, a sudden glow in the darkness. 

"Here goes nothing. You want to do the honors?"

"Sure," I replied, holding my smoke bomb up so he could light it. It wavered as I held it, and I realized I was shaking. Maybe I was more nervous than I thought. 

He lit the fuse and I rolled the bomb towards the unsuspecting adults, watching as it traveled across the linoleum and slowed to a stop about a foot away from them. About three seconds later, green smoke began to pour out from it, quickly surrounding their feet and rising into the air. 

We didn't wait around to see their reactions, but I could hear bursts of confusion and panic as we hurried away-- apart from their voices, our quiet footsteps, and the rustling of our clothes, the school was quiet, staff and students inside their classrooms, waiting for news about the power.

Ian lit another bomb and tossed it down the next hallway, not even stopping in the process. I threw one upstairs from a stairwell, following the plan. We all agreed we should stay on the first floor-- we didn't want to trap ourselves, so it was smarter to stay around exits. But even so, we needed to cover as much of the school as possible.

As we reached an intersection of four corridors, the sound of quick, heavy footsteps and the unmistakable jingle of keys started heading towards us. Ian and I halted, turning, trying to figure out which direction was unsafe, but the fog that was now filling the lower floor made it impossible to see far enough down the halls to tell if someone was coming.

The click of a walkie-talkie slowed the footsteps a bit, a gruff voice coming through from the other end. "Have you apprehended anyone yet?"

"We need to keep working," I whispered, grabbing Ian's wrist and leading him away from the noise as I reached for his open backpack.

"Keep working?" Ian turned to look at me, eyebrows raised as he stopped walking. "We need to leave."

Before I could respond, there were more approaching sounds-- more shoes against the tiled floor, and a voice ordering every hallway to be checked. Then there was a sudden hand on my arm, pulling me into a room.

Ian shut the door and we were plunged into total darkness. The lingering smell of ammonia made me assume we were in a janitor's closet, which proved to be correct once Ian unlocked his phone, the illuminated screen just barely providing light.