All in the Faculty
Chapter 37: Boom
Less than a block away from St Dominic's Hospital stood an unassuming three star hotel that might've been a Holiday In or a Super 8 or something else entirely, though no one made much of an effort to remember one way or the other. Its most impressive feature was by far the modest indoor pool on the main floor, which Alex took advantage of his very first night there.
"This place sucks," he announced from where he was splashing around in the shallow end with the only person willing to go swimming with him.
"What? Why?" asked Liam, gliding his fingers across the surface of the pool.
Alex looked around. It wasn't terrible, if one was willing to forgive the thin layer of grime growing on canary yellow tiles in hard-to-reach places. Unfortunately, Alex was not one of those people. He was what most people would call "spoiled."
And that's how Jane and Eve found themselves checking into a room at one of the finest hotels in all of London.
"What is this place?" Liam balked.
Huge granite pillars soared up to support the ornate domed ceiling of the lobby, which at its peak stretched as tall as four stories high. A gentle clinking sound filled the space, soft and irregular, like wind chimes. It was coming from the middle of the room, where a circular pool was set into the floor. Ceramic white bowls in varying sizes floated atop the water, shifting and colliding in chaotic harmony. In the middle of the pool, a tiny island housed a spritely bonsai tree, impeccably trimmed; a beacon of peace and order.
Tom clicked his tongue. "I should've known."
Alex and Jane had decided to stay away from their apartments until more information was known about Milan's location and motives. While it was certainly a nice step up from hotplates and twenty-year-old coolers, Jane was no stranger to luxury. Eve, too, remained stubbornly unimpressed by the change of scenery. The two of them shared a room on the ninth floor, and Alex had his own next door. On the other side of the hallway, Fox and Wolf had also checked into the hotel, though at the present moment they were nowhere to be found.
Alex allowed five minutes of pleasantries before ordering them all down to the pool once more. This one came equipped with a steam room, jacuzzi and sauna. Opulent, Art Noveau tiles lined the ceiling and walls in vibrant shades and intricate patterns, giving it a worldly feel.
"They even keep the towels warm," Jane observed, picking one up off the shelf as she stepped out onto the slippery floor.
The adults entered the sauna while Eve and Liam took turns diving into the deep end of the pool. Three weeks after the attack, Alex's wound had yet to fully heal, though it seemed to be giving him less and less trouble every day. Angry red skin surrounded the stitches, drawing both his friends' attention back to the fact that Alex was still only a few days fresh out of the hospital. Tom didn't even bother trying not to fuss.
"Surely the heat can't be good for it," he griped.
"Who cares?" said Alex, closing his eyes and rolling his neck. He stretched both his arms out and then sunk back into the hot wooden walls with a sigh of satisfaction.
"You ought to prioritize your recovery a little more–"
"Let's get down to business," Alex cut him off without opening his eyes. "I'm sure you're both wondering why I've gathered you here like this, so here's the situation: Milan Goeden is a ghost. Although a few of my contacts recognized the name, none of them had so much as crumbs to offer on his whereabouts. All I've been able to gather is that he's a big name in the black market, particularly when it comes to illegal arms deals. MI6 have been keeping tabs on his activities for a while. Unfortunately, the agent assigned to his case fell off the map about a week and a half ago, and his last few correspondences were few and far in between. We're thinking he's toast. Jane, you're our best bet."
Holding her breath throughout the explanation, Jane finally exhaled. She'd been avoiding going too far in depth, fearing their reactions.
"I suppose you want to know more about him."
Alex was watching her carefully. "Sure, why not?"
She pushed her long dark hair behind her, revealing more smooth white skin than Alex had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
Whenever Jane talked about Milan, her entire demeanour changed. It was as though she half-expected him to leap out from behind her before she could finish speaking. Both men watched on in fascination as Jane seemed to curl into herself a little, crossing her legs and tucking her hands between her knees.
"He's dangerous," she said quietly. "Extremely well-networked and…"
She paused, licking her lips. "Difficult to… say no to. All his wealth and excess and complete disregard for anyone's rules… well, he's a narcissist, though that should come as no surprise. He enjoys playing God, perhaps more than anything else. I've never met anyone so fond of killing, even if he's unlikely to lay hands on anyone himself. It's as though he considers that… beneath him. Originally CIA… still somewhat nationalistic, though not in a patriotic way, and… what else? No family, no friends…"
"How about a weakness?" Alex ventured.
"Weakness… I said it already, didn't I? He's got a one-track mind. It's impossible for him to comprehend why I should've wanted to leave him. He thinks he's the king of the world; that his lifestyle is the one everyone secretly strives for…"
"I can see why," Tom muttered. "Money, power, sway over women…"
"When he finally found me… he was furious. In all my years of taking orders from him, I've never seen him look so livid. I realize now that my leaving… had a big impact on him."
"Of course," said Tom. "When you left, you took a little of all those things away. You said you worked for him, right?"
Alex was silent. Jane took a chance and stole a glance in his direction, snagging his stony gaze.
"Yes," she said. "But honestly… the money he lost when I defected is inconsequential compared to the income he earns from everything else. I think after all those years together, he might've thought we were… close. Maybe even friends, or at least as close to friends as he's ever known. Alex, I'm almost certain he'll try to kill you again."
"I'm not sure that it's his first priority. He's had enough opportunities to kill me since my hospitalization. There's something else he's after first. Do you have any idea what it may be?"
"The only thing I can think of is Eve. Perhaps he's biding his time until he can find a way to win her back. Or maybe he still thinks I'll return… I wish I had more to offer, I just – I don't even know how he found me… And I'm sorry–"
"Stop apologizing. You didn't ask for this psycho to come after you," Tom pointed out.
"Yes, but…"
"But nothing. We'll figure it out. Alex here's pretty well-networked himself, aren't you, Alex?"
"Would you?" said Alex, seemingly out of nowhere.
Jane blinked at him. "What?"
"Return. If given the chance."
Tom's lips parted. "Alex–"
"Why would you ask me that?"
"That was your original plan, wasn't it?" Alex sat up, pulling his legs in so he was sitting cross-legged on the bench. He spoke evenly, careful not to give his own feelings away. It was difficult to determine if he was honestly asking or simply testing some unknown theory. "To go back."
"Because I didn't know what else to do!"
"You said Milan attacked me because he thought you would try to run away with me," he shot back. "That was never your intention. You didn't want to run away again."
"How could I? If it didn't work the first time – and besides that, he knew about you, all of you–"
"So if you don't want to run anymore, what's your end goal?"
"I…" Jane trailed off. "I don't know. I just don't want to have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I want to know that all the students at Brookland are safe. I want this to be over."
"And him?"
She didn't answer right away. Tom could practically taste the tension between them. It was so strong that a part of him felt obliged to get up and give the two of them some time alone, though he knew it was wishful thinking to believe they might actually solve anything with it.
"I don't care what happens to him," she told him. "I cut ties with him two years ago. Not once have I looked back."
"Good," said Alex, sounding suddenly tired, "because I don't think I can handle any more surprises. I want this to be as straightforward as possible: find Milan and forcibly remove him from the picture. Sound good?"
"And then what?" asked Tom, planting his hands on his knees.
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. What about Eve? She's a loose cannon!"
"Jane's got that under control."
Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Sure. She spends most of her evenings practicing jiu jitsu and threatening me under her breath, but I've got it under cont–"
"Jiu jitsu?"
"So she really is a ninja?"
"Enough! There's no telling what she'll want to do until after Milan is dead. Or at least… out of her reach."
"Has she apologized for almost killing Alex yet?"
Alex tried to wave him off. "Tom, really now…"
"Alex, come on! If she hasn't shown any remorse, how are we supposed to know she won't turn on us?"
"She's not going to show remorse. She's been trained to kill, and I didn't even die. Plus, she doesn't know me. She's got no reason to feel bad other than out of obligation, which obviously isn't much of a motivator for her. Look, I know you still haven't forgiven her for what she did, and I get it. Even if I can't really remember anything before waking up in the hospital, I know that's the worst condition you've ever seen me in, and it must have been unsettling–"
"Unsettling!"
"Okay, maybe 'unsettling' is not the right word–"
"You. Almost. Died!"
"It was weeks ago, could we please move past it already?"
Tom threw his hands up in the air. "Unbelievable!"
Outside the sauna, Eve and Liam were sitting against the wall, listening in on their muffled conversation. "I want to know what they talk about when they think we're not listening," Eve had explained, though she'd gone notably still when they turned onto the topic of her. Liam was sliding his fingers through the thin layer of water atop the tiles, drawing shapes in the condensation.
"You wouldn't really try to kill him again, would you?"
Chin resting on her knee, she shot him a glance through the stringy golden hair obstructing her view. "I thought you hated him anyway."
"I don't. He's not a bad person."
She turned her eyes back onto the ground, the voices of the adults filtering quietly into the silence: "… swear the only reason you're still alive is dumb luck–!"
"Mr. Harris would never be the same if he died. Alex is his best mate. So please don't hurt him any more than you already have, alright?"
Eve snorted. "He's not exactly made of glass."
"Still."
Eve fell silent, allowing herself a moment to mull over the person known as Alex Rider. Before the attack, she'd imagined him to be much like Milan – disarmingly pleasant, strategic with his flattery, chest puffed out as though boasting a ribcage made of steel. From the very start Alex's perceived character had rubbed her the wrong way, though of course it made sense that her imagination would conjure up a smirk for her to wipe off of a smug face. In reality, Alex wasn't anything like that. He was inexplicably grounded in pacifism and perpetually exhausted.
According to Liam, the second part was unusual – Alex was most always in high spirits, at least as long as he'd known him.
"It doesn't look like his girlfriend made any attempt to visit him in the hospital, so it could have something to do with that," he'd told Eve back at the Super 8.
Judging from his exchanges with Jane, Eve had assumed he was in love with her. "He has a girlfriend?"
"Dunno… He did, anyway."
The only thing that seemed to cheer Alex up was when Bridget and Olivia came around. Two bubbly little girls no older than thirteen somehow had the ability to make him laugh even after an entire day locked in a hospital room with his eyes glued to a screen and a phone glued to his ear.
Who is this guy?
The extent of Eve's knowledge went no further than Liam's. A government agent with no living relatives. Tom's only friend. Former "assistant teacher" at Brookland Comprehensive.
She'd run out of reasons to hate him.
Still, she thought. He could get in the way. He could try to stop me from killing Milan. And he's an arrogant, stuck-up know-it-all.
Voicing her opinion to Liam, she was startled to see a smile overtake his lips. "I used to think the exact same thing. I guess you're not entirely wrong. But, Eve… what are you planning to do after you kill Milan? Don't you think you're better off not burning bridges? Alex might be one of the only people out there willing to help you."
"I don't need his help."
"But what if you do? You can't exactly go back to killing people for money, can you?"
She could, except it was unlikely anyone would let her. Eve blew a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "Guess I'll have to get a job flipping burgers."
Her sarcasm went ignored. "You're nice enough to Ms. Beatrix. Why not Alex?"
The reason wasn't as complicated as Liam might've guessed. Eve picked fights with Alex because it was her only real form of release. Unfortunately for Liam (and Alex), this was something Eve was staunchly refusing to acknowledge. So instead of giving the question any real thought, she pushed herself onto her feet, bounded up to the edge of the pool and jumped in.
As the days progressed, so did their investigation. Alex was delighted to find out that Jane could still recount numbers for up to 19 different credit cards owned by Milan, including expiration dates, CSVs and PINs. And while 14 of them were no longer active, five of them were. One of them was even being used in London!
They were holed up in Alex's room when Alex made the discovery. Grasping the edges of the screen, he pressed closer and squinted as though trying to read very fine print. Jane was leaning against the desk next to him, examining her fingernails.
"Anything?"
Alex's eyes widened. "Holy shit."
Passing her the laptop, Alex watched as Jane's eyes flickered over the screen before freezing on the same spot as his. "Holy shit…"
"Yesterday!" Alex cried. "He made a purchase at La Cienaga on Firth!"
"He always did love Mexican food."
"This is huge!"
"Can I see?" called Eve from where she was stretched out on Alex's bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was truly fit for a king: shimmering shades of red, blue and gold shone out from the fleur-de-lis bedspread, matching the drapery that framed the tall, arched windows. Church-like in its splendor, the hotel had ensured that each and every room was impeccably lit and expensively furnished. All the furniture was solid teak. They were practically staying in a castle. Alex's ensuite bathroom was bigger than Tom's living room.
Alex ignored her request in favour of jumping to his feet and lifting the laptop high into the air like a holy offering. "Thank you God!"
"Don't ignore me!" Eve barked, sitting up.
Jane didn't share his enthusiasm. "Don't you think it's a little too soon to celebrate? We still don't know where he is or what he's going to do next."
Placing the laptop down onto the desk, Alex took a seat on the end of the bed with his back to Eve. "You're right – it isn't much, but it's the only lead we've got. Even little wins are impor–"
Eve's feet connected with his back, sending Alex flailing down onto the floor. With one hand supporting her cheek, Eve tipped her head back and cackled.
"Eve!" Jane shouted. "That is not–!"
Eve's laughing was cut short when the blanket she was lying on suddenly surged forward, flipping her over. Before she could so much as twist, the other half of the blanket overtook her, wrapping her up kicking and flipping like a live fish into a giant burrito. Soon all that remained was her head and feet sticking out of the ends, for Alex had moved too fast for her to properly get in any kickback. To complete the hold, Alex tied two of the corners together. Eve was red-faced and panting by the end of it.
"Let me go!"
Alex leaned in so their noses were mere inches apart.
"Who's laughing now?"
To emphasize his point, Alex laughed. Eve instantly broke out into a string of Russian curse words, which surprised Alex into taking a full step back.
"Are you speaking Russian?" he asked in awe. "Have you been able to speak Russian this whole time?"
Eve spat at him. Alex wrinkled his nose. "Yikes. Alright, consider this your time out. Jane, let's go."
Alex strode over to the door, collecting his coat off the back and pulling an arm through one of the sleeves. Jane reluctantly followed.
"Where are you going?" Eve demanded.
"You aren't going to untie her?" asked Jane, glancing back at the struggling girl-burrito.
"She'll find her way out eventually."
"… What?! No! You can't leave me like this, you bastard!"
The door slammed shut behind them. Out in the hall, Eve's screams could still be faintly heard. Alex paused to rest his back against the wall, massaging his temples. "Real peach, that one."
"She's been through a lot," Jane reminded him softly. "Are you alright?"
Grasping his arm, she forced him to straighten, apparently so she could check him over for injury. Taken aback, Alex pulled his arm away.
"What? Oh, you mean falling off the bed? Yeah, of course–"
"Tom's right, isn't he? You hardly even give these things any thought–"
"Don't tell me you've been listening to Tom? Tom exaggerates."
"He told me all you eat is take-out."
"That is so not true! What about that time I made pancakes?"
"Are you trying to use instant pancakes as evidence that you know how to cook?"
"Now, now, I never claimed to know how to cook…"
They started down the hall, passing oil paintings and immaculate displays of classical art. Eventually Jane had to ask where they were going, to which Alex replied, "We're going to take a break."
Alex's break, as it turned out, involved fine dining at the hotel's five-star restaurant. They were seated in one of the far corners, a safe distance away from any public-facing windows. The waiter graced them with a narrow plate of three king prawns to start.
"So this is your idea of a break?"
Alex lifted up one of the prawns and placed the whole thing into his mouth. "Mm-hmm."
Jane glanced around, wondering if there was some unspoken dress code that she was failing to adhere to. The place was packed with beautiful people showcasing impeccable wardrobes.
Sensing her unease, Alex hastened to explain, "I mean, really, I was just hungry – don't read too much into it."
Evidently, this was a terribly insensitive thing to say, and Jane's flinty look conveyed the message perfectly. I wasn't.
Alex sighed. "I'm sorry. In case you haven't noticed, I've a terrible habit of saying the wrong thing."
Being candid with Jane was usually his best bet for not mucking things up with her, so he continued,
"I was thinking about Hyde Park again, and I don't think I ever actually told you how wretched I was feeling that evening – before we ran into each other, I mean. To be completely honest, that was the best Christmas I've had in years."
His confession appeared to catch her off-guard. "Where'd that come from?"
Working alongside MI6 to wrap up the Concrete Massive case while also investigating into the activities of Jane's former employer, a dangerous criminal with a personal vendetta against them, had Alex wondering how even amidst all this stress, he felt oddly light-hearted. It was difficult not to notice how big a role Jane was playing in it. When he was overwhelmed, she was grounded, and when she was scared, he did his best to put her mind at ease. Even Alex's friendship with Tom wasn't quite so emotionally reciprocal. In all the excitement, he'd barely even thought of Sabina.
Sabina. Now he was thinking about her. Instead of answering Jane's question, Alex took the opportunity to snag the waiter and order them a bottle of wine.
"So there's something I've been meaning to tell you," he began. Jane used her fork to spear the last prawn and pop it into her mouth.
"Um… okay, so… do you remember Sabina?"
Jane nodded, swallowing the bite. "Of course."
A slightly sick feeling was brewing in his stomach. Talking about Sabina was hard enough without adding Jane into the mix. And yet he couldn't get it out of his head that he ought to tell her about what happened. He'd done such a terrible job of keeping her informed in the past. Just because Jane was good at respecting his privacy didn't mean she deserved to be kept in the dark about everything.
The waiter chose that moment to arrive with the wine, giving Alex a much-needed moment to prepare himself while pouring their glasses. Unsurprisingly, he couldn't quite muster the willpower to say as much as he would've liked. After downing half a glass of wine in one go, he told her in three short words,
"She dumped me."
Jane winced. "Ouch. Sorry to hear that."
Alex fumbled with the stem of his wine glass. "Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
Alex's eyes snapped up to meet hers. She gazed across at him in undisguised sympathy. He hadn't expected her to be so willing to hear it. After all, she was probably still wrestling with her own feelings of rejection. Alex had done a fine job of beating around the bush. By this point, she had told him how she felt, while Alex somehow managed to avoid ever really giving her a response.
"Um," he said. "Yeah, kind of."
And so he told her everything – his history with the woman, their tumultuous on-and-off period, and finally, her revelation about the true nature of their relationship. Putting it into words felt better the second time around than it did the first, though Jane's reaction was not too far off from Tom's: total outrage.
"Are you serious?" she hissed, slamming her wine glass down a little too hard onto the table. "She was engaged the entire time?"
Alex nodded. "Crazy, right?"
"I – I don't even know where to start!"
"Don't let it worry you too much. I only wanted to tell you for the sake of full disclosure. No more secrets."
"You're not mad? Because – I mean, I'll kick her ass for you. If you want."
The comment was so unexpected that Alex choked on his wine, drawing a few wary stares from surrounding tables. Jane smothered her laughter with her serviette while Alex patted his chest in an attempt to quell the sudden coughing fit.
"N-no, that's fine," he insisted, clearing his throat and trying to resist the smile threatening to overtake him. "I, um, I'm… would you really kick Sabina's ass if I asked you to?"
"Is that a yes?"
"No! No, of course not." Alex's grin had a slight boozy quality to it. "I appreciate the offer, anyway. No, her choice will catch up with her eventually. She's marrying a lawyer."
Jane lifted her glass and gave it a swish. "How boring."
"Right? That's what I thought! But apparently Sabina…"
Alex trailed off, thinking back to her words. What you do – it's… dangerous. With a sigh, he finished,
"Sabina wanted something normal. And I can't really hate her for that."
"Me neither," said Jane. "I can hate her for manipulating you into a fake relationship, though."
"Yeah, me too."
They both broke out into snickering. Alex's next thought surprised him: I always did prefer jazz to classical.
0o0o0o
"For centuries the aristocracy had been the most powerful section of British society. But from the last quarter of the 18th century, the middle classes began to grow in power and confidence."
Nobody was listening. As per usual, Tom's lecture took a backseat to the hot topic of Alex's disappearance, which had garnered a fair amount of speculation. Worst of all, the video of Alex's stunt with the cars had been introduced to the school population the day before by an unknown source (read: Olivia). Said girl sat at the back of the room with the usual suspects, quietly whispering school gossip to Bridget despite Calvin's repeated requests that she be quiet. Tom, for his part, was just glad for a moment of even half-silence, for his entire morning had been filled with relentless questions and loud-mouthed accusations.
Isaac had parted the crowd with his purposeful stride to slam both hands down onto Tom's desk. "Has he been arrested? Kidnapped? Charged with murder?"
"Oi! Don't touch my stuff!"
"You have to tell us!"
"Why would you assume I know anything about it?!"
The children broke out into a whole new chorus of questions.
Tom pressed his palms into his eyes.
The real fun began at lunch, when Tom was called down to the office for a face-to-face with his least-favourite executive, Principal Theodore "Ted" Tanner. Tom dragged his feet the whole way, allowing himself to be led into the man's stale-smelling office like a horse into a cramped stall. When they were both inside, Ted smacked the door shut and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
"I'll stand, if it's alright."
Ted continued to hold his hand out towards the chair.
"I said I'll stand." Tom's voice was hard.
Ted dropped his hand.
"Fine," he said coldly. "Tom, I think you know why I've called you into my office."
"I'd hate to presume."
"The video, Tom."
In the wake of Ted's confrontation, Tom found himself unable to stop staring at the sheen of grease atop his porous red nose. This asshole, Tom thought, has been stealing money from the school? And here I was debating whether or not he was smart enough to tie his own shoes. Then, as Tom's mind was prone to doing whenever Ted fixed him with one of his nauseating stares, he was confronted with a gut-wrenching mental image of Alison's body pressed up against his, so young and beautiful and out of his league. How on earth had Tom lost Alison to someone like him, a living raisin, and not even one with a single redeeming quality?!
"The video," Tom repeated blankly. "You mean… of Alison and I?"
His question was met with silence. After a delayed moment, Ted's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Tom watched on in silent satisfaction as the look of confusion in his eyes morphed into horror.
"Don't tell me she showed you that?" he continued, feigning embarrassment. "Or did you find it on her computer? God… I'm sorry, Ted, but what do you want me to say? It was her idea–"
"What – what are you –? The video of Alex Beckett! Mr. Beckett, the assistant teacher!"
"Mr. Beckett?"
"Yes!" Ted's red nose had infected the rest of his complexion. "Where on earth is he?"
"Couldn't tell you."
Ted ran a hand across his face, smearing the sheen. "Great," he hissed. "Well if you see him, tell him he's fired."
"Will do."
Tom moved towards the door without waiting for a dismissal, but before he could reach the handle, it swung open. Alison was holding her desk phone in one hand and its cradle in the other. Her shoulders were tense, and her skin was completely devoid of colour. The extreme look of distress was enough to send a bolt of fear through Tom's chest.
"What's wrong?" he asked, temporarily forgetting that he was supposed to hate this woman.
"It's – he hung up," she whimpered.
"Who?"
"I don't know. I don't know who he was, he didn't say."
Tom had to resist the urge to reach out and pull her against his chest. She looked terrified.
"Tom," she said urgently, and hearing his name on her tongue was enough to make his heart ache all over again, "Tom, he said there's a bomb in the school. He said he placed a bomb in the school and then he hung up!"
It was odd, but the word "bomb" didn't have the effect he expected it to have. If anyone had asked him earlier what he would do if someone called in a bomb threat, Tom would've most certainly answered with something along the lines of "panic and run." Instead, a feeling of cold calm washed over him, unfamiliar and soothing.
"Did he say anything else?" Tom asked quietly.
"A bomb?" Ted shrieked.
Alison took a single step toward him. She was shaking. "H-he said… he said everybody had better get out quick, b-because the whole building was about to blow!"
0o0o0o
The fear in the air was palpable. Hundreds of students poured out of Brookland Comprehensive in waves, as fast as they could move in single-file lines. Tom's class was the exception. In the first place, trying to get them to actually listen to him involved shouting over their heads and gesticulating wildly with his hands. "I said get up and get moving!"
"Is this another drill?" Lucas Tennyson droned, spinning his pencil between his fingers. He dropped it a second later, sending it tumbling down onto the floor.
"It's not a drill!" Tom barked. "Everybody line up in front of the door now!"
Tom was feeling especially stupid right about then, for Eagle and Snake had discussed the possibility of joining his class only to have Tom vehemently reject the idea. In the first place, he'd argued, how in the world am I supposed to explain your presence to the faculty? Not to mention what the kids will say!
Looking back, it was easy to see how much of a target he was allowing himself to become by being so stubborn. I really am the weakest link, thought Tom, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in his gut. What the hell was I thinking?
"He's serious," Katie Healy whispered. Without further ado, she opened her mouth and started screaming. Tom instantly rushed over to quiet her.
"Stop screaming and go line up by the door!"
"M-Mr. Harris!" Bridget burst out, drawing his attention to the back of the room. Liam and Calvin were next to her, but Olivia was conspicuously missing. "Olivia's been gone for over ten minutes!"
"What?! Where did she go?"
Bridget scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. "She didn't say!"
"She – damn it!" Tom ushered the swarm of children up to the door, motioning for Calvin to join him. The two of them huddled in the middle of the classroom while the children finished organizing themselves into a line. "Listen. I need you to lead the students down to the football field. I'm going to find Olivia."
Calvin's eyes were wide. "What if she's already left the building?"
"I won't risk it," said Tom. "Go on."
He raised his voice. "Class! Olivia Young is still unaccounted for, so Calvin will be leading you outside while I try to find her–"
All the students turned to look at him at the same time, startling him with the ferocity of their dissent. "No, Mr. Harris!" a few of them shouted. Isaac and Lucas broke out of line to approach, looking positively devastated. "No!" "Come with us!"
"I'll be right behind you!" Tom snapped. "Stop arguing! You lot never listen to a damn word I say! Do not break out of line again!"
Bridget threw her arms around him, pressing her tearful face into his jumper.
"Mr. H-H-Harris!" she wailed. Prying her hands back, Tom nodded at Calvin to take the lead. Calvin reluctantly moved to the front.
"Listen," Tom whispered to the distraught girl. "I'm going to call Alex, okay? I'll call Alex. He'll know what to do."
Bridget bit down on her trembling lip and nodded. Tom smoothed a hand over the top of her head, fixing her with a smile. "Don't act so worried. I'll see you soon enough."
He gave her a push, sending her stumbling up to the back of the line. When the students began to file out one by one, Tom finally noticed the one that wasn't budging. Liam stood alone by the door with his hood up and his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.
"We'll find her together," he said.
Tom took one long look at him, savouring the feeling of pride at having inspired such a loyal response from his adopted son. Son. The word had always existed in his mind's periphery, forbidden despite the growing sense that the two of them had formed a strange sort of family. He gave a slow, mechanical nod, leading him through the classroom door. As soon as they entered the hallway, however, Tom grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, marching up to Calvin in spite of the furious fists pounding on his back.
"No! No!"
With Liam safely deposited in Calvin's strong grip, Tom started walking backwards. His class was the last to leave their floor. The line was slowly but surely disappearing down the stairway. At the very end, Bridget spun around to face him, eyes overflowing with tears. Tom pulled out his phone and gave it a little shake. With one last sob, Bridget turned to follow the crowd.
Finally alone, Tom exhaled.
The fear hit him all at once.
"Holy crap!" he whispered, dialing Alex's number. While the phone rang, Tom took to each of the girl's bathrooms, marching in and calling out Olivia's name. On the seventh ring, Alex answered.
"Hello?"
"Alex, Brookland's just had a bomb threat called in. Everyone's evacuated, but I..."
"Tom, please tell me you're not trying to play the hero right now–"
"It's not like that!" said Tom, tearing down the hallway. "I can't find Olivia! She's not in any of the washrooms and it isn't like her to leave without saying anything! I think she's still somewhere in the school!"
"I'm leaving right now–"
"There's no time to wait for you to arrive. I just wanted to ask you if you knew where she might be."
Alex paused. "Did you check the blue door?"
"Blue door?" Tom echoed.
"The one with the trick handle! Don't you remember?"
"… Oh, God, I'd completely forgotten about that! Wait, how does Olivia–"
"Tom, GO!"
Tom raced through the school, skidding around a corner and arriving in front of the battered door. The blue paint was peeling in a few places, and the doorknob was rusted. Wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear, Tom used both hands to rattle the knob, getting increasingly violent until finally the door popped open and –
Tom stumbled back a step, peering down at the girl's face. Olivia Young was sitting on the third step up with her headphones in, reading fanfiction on her iPhone.
"Mr. Harris?" she said loudly.
Tom heaved a huge breath. "Olivia!"
"Did you find her? Tom?"
Olivia pulled a headphone out of her ear, peering across at him suspiciously. "Since when did you know about this place? Are you–"
Tom surged forward to snatch up her arm and yank her forward, explaining in a rush,
"Look, there's an emergency and we have to–"
A low growl penetrated the walls. Below them, the floor trembled. Tom froze. Olivia, too, had fallen still.
"… Mr. Harris?" she whispered. Tom instantly peddled backwards, dragging her back into the hidden stairwell once more. "What's going on?! What was that?"
"Olivia," Tom said in a rush, "someone's placed a bomb in the building. If we can get to the roof–"
Olivia wrenched her arm out of his grasp. "The door up there is locked! We won't be able to get out!"
Boom! All at once the explosion resonated throughout the building. Part of the floor collapsed just outside the door, sending concrete and rubble flying out in every direction. The cacophony of noise was loud enough to rival a rockslide. Tom and Olivia watched wide-eyed from halfway up the staircase as the cracks in the floor spread and crumbled to pieces. There was no leaving the alcove now – not without falling down two stories. And still the infrastructure continued to shake, as though trying to decide whether or not to follow suit. Olivia clutched Tom's arm tightly.
"W-w-was that it?"
"Stay very still…" Tom said quietly. Dust occupied the air in thick clouds, and in the silence that followed, he could faintly make out screams coming from outside. The crackling of fire was also getting louder, as smoke began to join the dust in muddying up the oxygen. Tom pressed his face into his elbow, trying not to inhale any debris.
"Is it safe…?" Olivia whispered.
Tom took a single, tentative step forward. A sharp clap filled the air in the same moment that a spider web of cracks appeared beneath his feet. Tom seized his last remaining second of peace to yank Olivia into his chest before the floor gave in beneath them, sending them plummeting down into the smoke.
0o0o0o
A/N: Bet ya didn't see that coming!
Okay so… *deep breath* this chapter is super late & I'm sorrryyyyy! Please forgive me? I made it a little shorter so I could release sooner rather than later, but the next one will be longer, I promise. Huge thanks to the people who reviewed to remind me they're waiting for updates! What's up with you, how've you been? It's been too long! In completely unrelated news, the family I'm staying with is getting two baby pygmy goats at the end of the month! wooo!
Last chapter got like, 10 reviews or something! D: Seems like there was some sort of issue where some people received an error message saying they'd already reviewed the chapter. Anyhow, it was still great to hear from those who stopped in! And as usual, if you spot an error, please let me know and I'll correct it!
Just a warning, my friends… shit's about to get craaazay. Anyone who's read Life's a Beach knows I get a leettle carried away sometimes… so, any predictions for what's next? *evil cackle*
Next chapter: "You think this is funny?"