I've never been good with words. Nobody in my family ever was. So I don't think I'd ever be able to do justice in writing about what happened today. So I won't. I'll just say it simply. After all; I'm the only one who's ever gonna read this, and I've never been too appreciative of the 'finer things in life', as my dad would say. But he's gone. And now- they're all gone too. My family. My brother. My mum. My uncle. My stepfather. My teachers. Mr. Cornell. Ms. Groton. Even the head; Mrs. Klinick. The police. The doctors and nurses. The paramedics and firefighters. Everyone.
Well… Not everyone. As far as I can tell, the cut-off point was 15. Anyone 15 or older- they vanished. Poof. Gone. Those of us below that age….. The ones aged from 0-14? Well, it looks like we're stuck here. Alone.
I was up at Coates when it happened. Mr. Cornell was droning on about some kind of equation (inevitably one I didn't understand and would never use), and then… Poof. He was gone. His disappearance was so anticlimactic, so seemingly mundane that I was practically disappointed as I watched the piece of chalk he had been holding fall to the ground. In fact, I think what I found to be strangely more captivating than the unexplained disappearance of a teacher; was the piece of chalk falling to the floor with a graceful shudder. I guess that's why it took everyone several minutes to realize that anything strange had even taken place, and it was several more minutes after that before anyone spoke.
'Okay… What just happened?' perked up a bright spark from the back row. It felt like an almost criminal offence to shatter the quizzical silence that had settled in the room. Yet the sound dragged me away from the growing sense of useless wonderment that had begun to manifest itself inside me. And the cogs in my brain started whirring. I am not stupid. I might not do well in school. I might not have any awards or qualifications. But I am not stupid. And I know it.
At that moment, I realized three things.
1) Something big had happened
2) I needed to get away
3) Our lives would never be the same again
Now, I realize these might sound obvious or overly dramatic, but it was the first step. And as they say; 'the first step is always the most important'. I had let go of the denial that others still clung to, and, free from its restricting embrace, could finally think clearly and logically; unbound by the chains of irrationality. Deep in thought, I missed the escalation of the conversation and only tuned back in to hear someone yell; 'NO MORE SCHOOL!'
This statement struck me as so ridiculous that I had to swallow to avoid laughing out loud, contenting myself with a roll of my eyes.
'Someone should go look outside.' I said; not wanting to draw too much attention to myself when I made my exit. 'Someone should see whether it's like this everywhere.' I continued, though already sure of the answer. Silence greeted my words, though quiet, they had cut through the raucous hubbub like a knife. Then, a tall snotty nosed kid named Alex stood up.
'I'll go.' He proclaimed, taking a, well, what I assume was supposed to be a heroic pose. That was too much. A laugh escaped my lips, in spite of myself. Several heads turned my way. Others shared my laughter and stared at the tall, blushing teen.
'Why don't we all just go together?' came the sarcastic, scathing tones of Diana Ladris.
Once again, chaos ensued in the small classroom as many fought to evacuate the room through the small door, while others engaged in loud conversation. That was my cue.
Waiting until the conclusion of the initial, frantic rush to leave the room, I slipped out into the hallway. It was busy, as was to be expected, and loud, no surprise there. But one voice rose above the insistent clamor, slicing through the chaos like a knife. It was a beautiful voice. Loud, strong, clear and powerful, yet somehow soft, subtle and inviting at the same time. Undeniably, this voice belonged to the King of the school. It was the voice of Caine Soren.
That was when I knew I really had to leave. Swiftly, as the others settled around to listen to the all-commanding, resonating sound of what looked to be their new leader, I ducked out of the corridor and made my way to the kitchen, once there I cleared the books out of my back pack and stuffed it full of the non-perishables found in the cupboards. I was about to leave when I decided that water would be useful- I doubted the taps would still work. Finding my empty bottle, I filled it from the water dispenser. Downed that bottle. Repeated. Then filled it a final time before shoving it into the pocket of my blazer.
Confident I was now ready to leave; I swung my backpack over my shoulder and, avoiding the corridor, navigated my way to an exit and began the long walk home to my house at the edge of the Santa Katrina Hills.
Luckily, nobody spotted me as I made my way north towards the hills behind Coates. But I could hear voices coming from the corridor, and knew it would not be long before the conclusion of their meeting. The voices ceased; replaced with the loud pattering of hundreds of feet.
I hurried up then.
I've made the journey home from Coates many times- my mum would never waste time or energy by driving up to the Academy each holiday. But somehow, this time seemed different. Maybe it was just the heavy backpack banging against my shoulder. Or maybe it was the shock of what I had just witnessed. But I could have sworn it was under a different sky, watched by the relentless glare of another sun that I made that long journey home. Though it wasn't really a home. Not in any sense. I was never welcome there. Not really.
I didn't fancy the long trek across Bitterweed Valley, so upon reaching the road, I followed it as it veered slightly to the right; towards the mine shaft and Hermit Jim's Shack. I like to think I'm quite fit and strong, but I was quite tired when I reached the home of the infamous hermit. I collapsed on the porch outside and allowed myself a short break; wondering whether or not to look for supplies inside. I didn't have space for any more food, but some basic equipment like a gun or some rope would be helpful. Making up my mind, I tried the door. Unlocked. I supposed he must have been home, when it happened.
I was not disappointed. Within twenty minutes I had traded my school bag for a larger rucksack, which I stuffed full with all the food I already had, in addition I had found a long piece of rope- maybe 200 ft as well as a proper harness. Also in the bag was a load of fuel/cooking stuff I had found as well as some fishing gear, and, invaluably, some water purification tablets. A lethal looking knife hung from the belt I had used to fit into my new trousers and my new gun was slung over my shoulder (extra ammunition in a side pocket of the backpack along with several large bottles of water. About to leave, I grabbed a survival booklet laying to one side, deciding it might come in useful. Then I made my exit, thanking anyone listening for Hermit Jim's survival obsession.
Walking became a lot easier in my new hiking boots, stuffed with tissues to fit my smaller feet, and I felt an overriding sense of optimism as I started the final stretch of my journey; over the Santa Katrina Hills.
The sun started to ride lower in the paling sky, almost dipping below the gold soaked peaks of the hills to my left. It was about 3 hours since I had left Coates and I could just about see the roof of my house about 20 minutes away, and just beyond it; the forest. I had always loved the forest. There is something almost mystical about the beautiful greens and browns that seem to surround and engulf you from your first step inside.
Making my way down the hills, I pondered over what would be taking place at Coates. I supposed Caine would have got everything organised by now… But surely others, like me, would feel uncomfortable with Caine taking charge? Certainly he would meet some resistance? I wasn't entirely sure though. As I thought of him, with that arrogant smirk, flanked by Drake Merwin the grinning psychopath and Diana Ladris, that sarcastic witch… I wouldn't fancy crossing them, but then, I guess that's why I'm here; why I have run away.
Finally, I reached my house. My brother ought to have been home, with my mum, so I doubted that I would need my keys. I stretched out a hand and turned the doorknob, the door swung open, as though the house was eager to be explored. I knew what I would find. But somehow that did not work to lessen the anticipation building inside me. Taking a deep breath, I made my way inside.
It was exactly as you might expect. Silent. Empty. Void of life. The only sign that anyone had been here was the plate lying broken on the floor beside an open dishwasher, half full of plates and cutlery. For some unknown reason I felt a strange compulsion to finish this task. To complete what had been my brother, or mum's final act.
Once all the dirty dishes were safely inside the dishwasher, I surveyed the room. It was time to get everything sorted. I had no idea how long this would last, but it didn't feel like a short term thing. Leaving my backpack resting against a chair, I started by locking the door with my keys, then, for good measure, sliding both bolts across. Next, I went through the house, closing any windows and drawing the curtains. Then I set about with what was probably the most important task; food. First I dealt with the food in the cupboards, meticulously checking dates and instructions until I had them arranged in the cupboards with the longest lasting foods right at the back and the more perishable items towards the front. Next, I started on the fridge. It seemed quite a lot of the stuff would only last a couple more days, so I decided that I would have a feast tonight; start the…. Whatever this was in style.
Two hours later I was tucking into bacon with slightly stale bread; best to use it up. I also had a small salad of carrots, tomato and lettuce, I had planted several tomato plants and even found some potatoes which I planted out back.
Next I enjoyed some yogurts and ice cream, before deciding it was time for bed. I brought my duvet and mattress downstairs, preferring to sleep near an escape route; the back door lead out to the yard and then to a path which wound into the forest and on to the small shed we owned about a mile or so away. Also, I tied my sleeping bag to the backpack full of the tins from the school and the survival stuff from Hermit Jim's shack. In addition, I had brought down my pajamas, which I changed into, and some jeans plus a comfy vest top and furry green hoody, these I stuffed into the backpack; I wanted to be ready to leave should the moment arise. And now, full, warm and content, I am ready for bed.