The professor was there, standing in the front of the classroom proudly, shoulders square. . . . But the next, the teacher was gone.
The piece of chalk the professor had been holding fell onto the ground with a quiet bing. The white chalk cracked into two pieces, one bigger than the other.
The kids in the classroom had laughed about the teacher's sudden disappearance. The kids had been confused. Some, but most, were spectacle. And then everyone was worried and afraid.
The children had ran out of the school, looking for anyone, anyone that they knew. But those they knew were the one's under the age of fifteen. Meaning, no parents, doctors, older siblings, policemen, firefighters, teachers, or even engineers.
Kids the ages one through fourteen were all alone, deadly alone, in this new world, this new universe.
Now everyone stood in the plaza. Many stared at the crippling building before them, mesmerized by the beautiful colors such a murderous thing could produce. Some others⎯ the kids that were older and had more common sense of what has happening⎯cast longside glances at others near to them, wondering if they should do something. But no one moved. No one tried to stop it.
The orange flames licked the side of the apartment building almost excitedly, burning the furniture and anything that was flammable into ashes.
"Someone should dial 9-1-1," A girl no more than seven-years-old suggested in a almost casual manner. "My mommy says that when there's a fire you're supposed to call the police."
"You don't think we already tried that, idiot?" A boy standing a few feet away from the little girl muttered. He thought of something else to say, decided against it, and closed his mouth hard, fighting the urge to say anything.
A girl with stringy black hair said what he was silently thinking. "We need that hardware store. And the daycare. We can't afford to lose either of them."
That was true. They couldn't afford to lose the hardware store to the fire. They needed the materials the store had to provide because none of them knew how long the adults would be gone. Or when they're coming back. And, well . . . .They probably couldn't risk losing the daycare either. There were kids inside of that building and if that building burns down many other kids will go with it. It didn't help that all three of the buildings were connected.
Very faintly the word 'mommy' could be heard coming from inside the burning apartment building.
Someone was in the burning complex.
Some girl in the plaza let out a pained scream.
Suddenly, a fourteen-year-old boy with shaggy brown hair ran the corner, turning into the plaza. His eyes flashed wildly.
Shaggy Hair grabbed hold onto the people nearest to him and barked orders angrily, like he was afraid if he didn't say it with enough force no one would listen. And they didn't.
The kids stood there spectacle, wondering if they should follow this guy's orders until Shaggy Hair yelled, "Go! Now!"
The kids split into two groups⎯ one group rushing to the daycare, the others to the fire department.
The little kids who were watching the fire eat at the apartment complex hungrily seemed to have finally picked up the panic and a little bit of understanding on what was going on around them. One little boy fell onto the ground and cried heavily, sobbing for his mother's comfort. A older girl kneeled beside the little boy and patted his back, whispering something smoothing and reassuring.
Shaggy Hair was now turned around, his back to the crowd of frightened kids staring at the blazing building before them. And Shaggy Hair was talking to someone. . . . A girl? The girl offered a wet rag to Shaggy Hair and then smiled shyly. Shaggy Hair returned the grin and held the wet rag to his mouth, holding onto it tight as if it were his life. Without another moment's hesitation, he stalked over to the building. The burning apartment complex.
A few kids took on a chant yelling, "Sam! Sam! Sam!"
Soon everyone was yelling 'Sam' and cheering as Sam entered the burning building, looking like Superman when he was a teenager.
They all watched as Sam slowly disappeared from view. They all watched as the first floor of the apartment building complex started to give away. They all watched as the fire slowly leaped onto the hardware store. They were all watching Sam.
Only a few minutes later, a colossal cloud of black smoke came flying out of a window that had just been opened by someone inside of the apartment complex on the thirteenth floor. And then a hand stuck out of the open window. Sam's hand. And then a little girl's body.
The people who went to the fire department had parked a rusted ladder against the side of the crippling building, obviously having no intention of using it or bringing it, as a matter of fact. But when they were at the fire department, a kid had insisted to carry the ladder back to the plaza, rattling off some excuse about how Sam might need help. So with quick thinking and limited time, they let the kid bring the ladder.
But now the kids were surprised that the kid was right. Sam needed help. Sam needed to come down from the thirteenth floor but couldn't go back to the first floor because he looked to be on the verge of passing out.
So with the help of many kids, they moved the ladder to the open window, held onto the bottom of the ladder with steady hands, and watched as two fourteen-year-old boys climbed with ease up to the window.
When the kids were close enough, Sam draped a little girl with a half-burned face into the arms of a kid at the top of the ladder, and Sam, too, closed his eyes and fell into the boy's arms, unconscious.
Everyone in the plaza huddled around the rusty ladder and helped bring Sam's unconscious body to the safety of the ground. Some tried to help the nameless half-burned little girl, too, but they found she was dead and had tried to identify her instead. But no one knew her. No one seemed to know her. Maybe it was better that way.
Sam was shipped away from the fire and propped up against the side of a house that was close by, still unconscious.
The people from the fire department grabbed the giant hose that they had half-dragged half-carried to the plaza, plugged it into the nearest fire hydrant, and were now spraying water up and down the burnt building. The building made the sound of a burnt hot dog in cold water.
A fourteen-year-old girl sauntered over to the still-sleeping Sam. The girl had light blonde hair that hung a little bit past her shoulders and flowed effortlessly behind her as she walked. Her eyes were a piercing hazel, that people had often mistaken for green. Right now she was wearing dark blue jeans and a green t-shirt. She wasn't the type of person to care about dressing nice, as long as it was comfortable that was good enough for her.
Blondie studied Sam intensely with her hazel eyes, curious. She then kneeled beside Sam, so close she could hear him breathing and smiled.
Blonde poked his shoulder gently, trying to wake him, but he does not move. She poked him again, harder. His eyes flutter open.
She backed away, so Sam could see her whole body.
"Ah, if it isn't Sam Temple. My name is Fern Romes. It's a pleasure to meet you." Fern smiled knowingly.