Trouble School

22}}Locked Doors

Tom grabbed Syd by the elbow, pulling her to a stop. As soon as they'd gotten out of the classroom they'd taken off down the hall, around the corner, down the stairs... And so on. He didn't actually know for sure, but now they were in the front lobby.

And they were alone.

No Eddie.

No Fred.

No Suzanne.

No anyone.

Did they make it out of that blazing death trap? Would the whole school burn down around them? Somehow, he didn't really think so. If the ghost — Melody was her name apparently — wanted them to burn to death, he had no doubt that they would. If she was strong enough to create a dark fog big enough to shroud the entire school building, than she was probably strong enough to keep it from burning down.

Tom hoped so, anyway. The irony of it almost made him laugh. Here I am, hoping that the ghost that's trying to kill us is going to keep us alive.

Still, he had to wonder why. Why start the fire in the first place? To scare them out? To separate them? Well if that was the case, then it worked.

"Where are the others?" Syd asked, panting. She was hunched over, her hands on her knees. Out of breath from their mad dash away from the fire. She wasn't the only one.

Jesus, but he could use a drink. He shook his head, licking his dry lips. "They probably went the other way."

"Then they're together, right?"

He nodded, but said nothing. Anyone with even the vaguest knowledge of horror films knew the first basic rule: Stay together.

Well, he thought, we certainly blew that, didn't we? "Fuck," he muttered, his sudden frustration and anger heating to a boil. Then louder he said, "Fuck it all to hell!" He wanted to hit something, throw something, break something. But he had nothing, so he punched the wall. He felt his knuckles split, felt the sharp sting, but the pain seemed insignificant compared to everything else. He hit the wall again, and again, yelling wordlessly.

Syd's hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he hit the wall one last time. The part of the plaster wall that he'd chosen to decimate now had holes and blood all over it, and his knuckles were a bloody and bruised throbbing mess. He hissed as the pain finally registered. "Fuck," he cursed again, his voice slightly hoarse from yelling.

When he looked at Syd, she was trembling. He frowned. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she seemed almost pale — or as pale as someone with her dark skin tone could be. "Hey, what—?"

"I don't think we're going to get out through the front door," she said, voice shaky. She wasn't looking at him, and he followed her gaze to the front door.

No, he realized, as he saw a grinning face leering at him from the floor.

Syd wasn't looking at the way out.

She was looking at the gory dismembered body of one of their classmates. May Jacobi.

He had been so busy catching his breath, and then beating the shit out of the wall, he hadn't noticed the mess.

How many does this make? Three? First Tru, then Mr. Hougan, and now May... Just my fucking luck. Am I some kind of corpse magnet or something? He shuddered, his stomach churning and twisting in on itself. Though the urge to throw up remained decidedly absent. Jesus, what's wrong with me? Am I getting used to this now? Is that it? Fuck...

Still, they needed to at least try the doors. If there was any change they could get out and get help... Well, wouldn't it be worth it to try? He swallowed, and slowly made his way towards the exit.