It took hours to finally convince me that being within earshot of Chelcie's yelps, sobs, and whimpers was a fate worse than death itself. By around noon I knew we couldn't stay there any longer.
As our classroom door slipped open I made out a number of sounds: footsteps, growls, heavy breathing...all so quiet, as though they existed miles from where we stood, but enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up. Chelcie poked her head out to survey the area, but within a very second she withdrew in terror, cupping her hands over her mouth in what was either an attempt to stifle a scream or hold back vomit.
We took our first step into the second-floor hallway, crawling to the opposite wall and edging slowly to the stairs we'd climbed up earlier, guided in pitch black by the red beam of a fire exit sign at the end of the hall. Neither of us were breathing.
We finally stood before the stairs when a door that we had slipped past just moments ago slid open behind us.
We remained motionless.
For seconds not a pin-drop was heard and no one emerged from the classroom.
Then the door closed. Chelcie's hand was pressed against my back in terror.
We reached the end of the flight of stairs and scurried into the first room we could find, hoping to avoid whatever we'd just barely escaped from.
Another empty classroom.
The desks here are laid out in messy rows with tiny lockers lined up against the back wall. In front of the room was a podium.
"Hide in the corner," I whispered. Chelcie obeyed without question. Quietly I dragged the podium in front of Chelcie, the open end facing her. "Crawl in," I muttered.
Once she did I pushed myself up against the wall and pulled the podium toward me. Its hollow inside serves as a closet-space large enough to house us both.
This is where we find ourselves.
My back is cramping and all the blood in my body is rushing to my head in this position.