Edward Jones gave up on Katie, and turned to try and wake somebody else. As far as he could determine, he had been the first to awaken. The cold flooring of the room he was in was strange and chilling against his cheek, as he stirred, and sat up. He was dimly aware of two things: the fact he must have fallen asleep in the examination hall, and that there was a dull, cold weight around his neck. He touched his throat, and felt a metallic collar was fastened around his neck. Suddenly alert, he sat up, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness of the room. He had no idea where he was, but it was nighttime.
There was moaning and stirring coming from the far end of the room, as the silhouettes of two girls moved, and looked somewhat bemused as well. Edward got to his feet, clambered over the mass of bodies across the ground, and approached the girls, to determine who they were. Within a few feet of them, he recognised the taller of the two to be Lena Amornie, and the other girl's hair was curled tightly, in the way Sophie Easton fashioned hers. Both girls made eye contact with their male comrade, and both fixed their eyes on Edward's neck. He too noticed that the pair of them were wearing identical chrome necklaces around their throats, and the boy inferred that it was a similar one he had felt around his neck, as well.
The first one to speak was Lena.
"Where are we, Eddie"
"I don't know," was his reply. "I just woke up a few moments ago. What are the collars for"
"The hell am I supposed to know?" Lena snapped back with her usual iciness, although her eyes were filled with fear. "Do you know where we are, what time it is"
Edward shook his head, but Sophie pressed the button on her wristwatch, which illuminated the face.
"Holy shit," she exclaimed. "It's quarter past eleven at night"
"Eh!" Lena and Edward panicked, looking around them, their minds starting to defog significantly.
"What do we do?" Sophie whispered at her two companions. It was remarkable that the three of them, who normally never interacted with each other in the classroom, were now allies, working side by side to comprehend the overwhelming situation they were in. Lena leaned back, her hand touching the hand of somebody else. She wheeled around, and recognised it as being Graham Brooke. Her usual dislike of him was smothered by compassion, an awkward feeling she rarely felt to people outside her innermost circle. Her eyes scanned the room silently, and she noticed there were a number of people twitching on the ground.
"We wake everyone else up," she suggested finally. "We just have to."
The three students shuffled around the room, trying to poke and shake the assorted bodies, all of whom were wearing identical collars, round to their senses. Edward found his friend, Katie Smethwick, whose head was resting peacefully on Kimberly Small's stomach, grabbed her shoulder and tugged at it.
"Katie!" he called at her. "Wake up; something's seriously wrong"
"Eddie! Lena!" The voice of Sophie was calling from the other side of the room.
"What is it," he asked, his hand turning Katie over onto her side. "What's that look for"
"It's Rob Fraser," Sophie said breathlessly. "What's Rob doing here"
Abandoning Katie for the time being, Edward kneeled up and gazed at the body over whom Sophie was crouching. It was Robert Fraser, sure enough; his muscular body, gelled black hair and pierced ear were illuminated by the minimal light in the room.
Lena was also staring at him, Harry Smith's head cupped in her hands.
"He's wearing overalls"
The exclamation was obvious, but powerful. She had noticed that he was indeed wearing dirty blue overalls, and a white T-shirt underneath. It was rumoured that he had got a job as a mechanic, but the fact he was here with the school pupils added to the mystery.
Edward turned his attention back to Katie. He suddenly realised she had not been in the examination either, and that she was wearing her own clothes, though it was less obvious, as she was wearing a black jumper and similar jeans, and this did not show up as well in the poor lighting conditions.
"Katie over here," calling the two other active girls. "She's wearing own clothes, too"
"Yeah, I know," Lena called from the back of the room, to the left of where she had been already, looking at three bodies lying side by side. "Dave, Colin and Paula are here, too"
Sophie had pinched Robert Fraser's nose, and he coughed and spluttered, but awoke with a jolt. Unsurprisingly, he too was disorientated at first.
"Who's that?" Rob demanded, his eyes maladjusted to the darkness. "Where am I? What the hell's going on? My neck feels tight"
Sophie filled him in on the few details she knew, then asked him to help her. By this time, about nine of the students were adequately conscious to realise there was something wrong. There was a panicked look in their faces, and they stood up, trying to get their bearings.
Nobody was sure how long it had taken, but eventually the entire class was awake. There were hushed whispers, and an oppressive air of fear and confusion, as their reality became shrouded in speculation. A few of the students had found chairs, and were sitting down, not speaking to anybody, their brows furrowed.
"Where's my bag"
The voice of Steven Lee punctured the crowd, and everyone fell silent, and started looking on the floor around them. The floor was white and glossy, not unlike that of a hospital corridor. There was certainly a sterile, sober air to the room in which they were imprisoned. Suddenly, the voice of a couple of the girls in the corner called out; they had spotted the pile of bags near the front of the room, where there also appeared to be a picture frame, what looked like clothes on a few lines of hooks, and a television, though it was still hard to distinguish the exact details.
A few of the students went straight to the pile of bags, destroying the tidy mountain. Within moments, a good number of the students had their bags, several hugging them for security.
The dozen of the pupils had formed a small group, muttering in hushed whispers on what they should be doing. Among them were Lena Amornie and Edward Jones, both of whom were prepared to work with their classmates for the better good.
"What do we do now?" Luke O'Neill asked, his head swivelling between his neighbours in the circle: Lena and Sean Sampson.
"We can't stay here, that's for sure," Jennifer Milton said, her enormous mass of hair draped over her shoulders.
"This reminds me of something I read once, y'know," Dominic Thomas voiced slowly. "I just can't remember what it was, exactly"
"Thanks for that input," Sampson growled. "I'll file it under 'U' for 'useless"
"Screw you," barked Dominic, his temper rising.
Sampson wheeled round to face him, but Samantha Carter jumped between them. Though quite small, she commanded a lot of respect from people, including Sampson. "You guys! This isn't helping. We need to figure out a way to escape. Now has anybody actually tried the door"
There was a slight pause as everybody considered this, then a buzz of excitement. The door! It was so obvious! As Sampson and Sam called to everyone else in the room, Alice Daniels bounded over, to stand next to the door, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
The room had fallen silent, and all eyes were either on Sampson and Samantha, or the girl standing near the door, her cartoon-like hair visible even in the poor light. Alice took a deep breath, and turned the handle. Her face fell. It was locked; of course it was locked. She turned round to shake her head at the masses, when her eyes fell on the window, and widened. The window! She hurried over, her body alive, but was beaten by a couple of the boys who had been standing close to it anyway. There were thick, maroon curtains over the frame, which brushed the floor. By now, a crowd of students was forming near the window. They had to escape out of it; it was the only way. Adrian Masters helped Alice to wrench the curtains apart, and the room was flooded immediately by a dazzling spotlight. About ten soldiers standing outside the window turned when the curtain moved and raised AK-47s at the young faces peering through the Perspex. There was an involuntary yell and Alice fell over backwards as she scrambled away from the glass. A large proportion of the class were screaming and shouting. Chaos ensued, but not the usual, orderly chaos that 11D was familiar with, this was different, because they had no control over the situation; they were helpless and disorientated. People were tripping over each other, yelling, panicking. One or two of the students were still sat down, emotionless, their faces pale. Those few were close to comprehending the situation they were in now, and awakening to the grim reality that was imminent. Lucy Shale tripped over an abandoned bag and grazed her knee. Adam Garretty was pounding on the glass, calling for help. A huddle of girls had formed around the door again, trying to force it open. Ian Dunn and Francis Konig were scanning the room for other means of escape; the spotlight had added more light, and they noticed an air vent on the ceiling, but it was much too high to reach. Graham Brooke was also looking at the ceiling, but was concentrating on the front-left corner of the room, where he had spotted a CCTV camera peering back at him relentlessly. He suddenly realised that there were people watching this, and there had been no mistake: 11D had been deliberately chosen and put here by somebody, for some reason.
Suddenly the group of girls around the door squealed and backed away rapidly. The fuss was dying down in the room, so many of the students heard the sound of the lock being turned, and the swishing noise as the door opened. Several soldiers hurried in, and the startled class shuffled back against the far wall. The men seemed not to notice the students, and at any rate, there was another man coming through the door now. He was moving calmly and confidently, saying nothing. The floodlight had been extinguished, so the room was back in its relative darkness again. Then the man spoke.
"You know," he began, addressing the class with a disarming sense of informality. "For a class who seem quite intelligent, I'm surprised that none of you have had the common sense to switch on the lights. Shepherd, if you may"
The silhouette of the soldier nearest the door moved slightly and pressed a button; the room was filled immediately with a strong fluorescent light. Many of the pupils contracted themselves, hurting from the bright light to which they had suddenly been exposed. The young face of Mr Jeyes looked back at them all, and beamed.
"There. That's much better isn't it, huh"
So many of the students were bemused by their teacher's apparent calm that they started panicking again. However, because many of them recognised his face, they seemed capable of articulating their worries into coherent sentences.
"Where are we"
"What the hell's going on in here"
"How did I get here"
"Sir! I've grazed my knee, can you get someone to look at it"
"I don't understand what's happening"
"Sir! Can you tell us what's going on, for God's sake"
"Why are there soldiers here"
"Where's Mr Davey"
"Who put this collar on me, huh"
"I'm scared! Why won't you say anything"
"Please, just help us"
Suddenly, Mr Jeyes responded, and looked over at the last person to have spoken. It was a boy, a boy with dark hair and nondescript features.
"It's... Luke O'Neill," said the teacher slowly. "Isn't it"
Luke nodded, terrified. The man was fearsome, yet had an almost sympathetic look on his cruel face.
"See? All I ask for is some manners," Jeyes began, addressing the class. "I can't believe that young Luke here was the only one of you who bothered to use the word 'please'. Yet, does this make him a better person than everyone else? Perhaps we should ask your former teacher, Miss Syme"
"Who?"
Jeyes turned around and looked John Trent in the face. John was wearing a chequered red shirt open over a yellow Reebok top, with faded stonewash jeans and white trainers; his gelled blond hair messed by his kidnapping, making him look more animal-like than ever. Mr Jeyes walked around his desk and approached the boy, who despite being taller than he was, looked alarmed by the approaching man.
"You clearly weren't listening either, John," Jeyes said quietly. "I just said I'd rather you used manners when addressing me. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's rudeness. Now, would you like to ask me something, John"
John looked slightly offended at being addressed like this, and was considering a witty comeback. After all, he wasn't scared of a teacher. But as he swallowed saliva, his prominent Adam's apple pressed against the inside of the collar around his neck. Touching it instinctively, the reality of the situation started to sink in. He looked at the teacher and muttered something of dissent.
"No, John," Jeyes insisted. "You certainly just said something as I was talking to your classmate, Luke O'Neill. I'm prepared to overlook the interruption, so long as you tell me what it was you wanted to say"
"Yes," John said slowly, uncomfortable with the knowledge that everyone was staring at him. "You said the name of a teacher, but I didn't recognise who it was. We've never been taught by a Miss Syme."
The whole of 11D awaited the response by Jeyes with bated breath. Perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding after all! Maybe they had taken the wrong class! While some people dared to hope this, others were anxious of the response of the teacher, whom none knew too well. When he chuckled, most were taken aback.
"Of course you don't recognise her name," said Jeyes with a chilling smirk on his face, "because you didn't know her by that name. You knew her by her married name: Tina Davey. The wife of your current form tutor"
Those who had been hoping of a way out of the situation deflated glumly. Mr Jeyes carried on, regardless.
"I was just reminding Luke of the time when he stole her possessions," he said, his eyes fixed firmly on Luke, not giving him an opportunity to protest his innocence. "Do you remember that, Luke? I know it was never proven, but it must have been you, or if not, someone else in the class.
"Of course, that was overshadowed by the unfortunate incident with the hypodermic needle," Jeyes continued. His eyes scanned the room, and saw many of the students' faces had frozen, seemingly remembering the incident. "Does anybody wish to own up to that here and now? Anybody? No"
He looked around the class, all of whom had been afraid to move, to afraid to stand out and name the guilty culprits. "It doesn't matter any more. It's time your sins caught up with you. You know how they say: 'What goes around, comes around?' Well, the complaint that was launched by your teachers about that reached the very top, and one of the governors of your school decided to bring the matter to us. He had remembered, you see, about a new bill that had been passed through Parliament a while back now. We took the complaint, pooled it with others, and monitored the progress of your class. Suffice to say, you all know you didn't improve your behaviour."
Jeyes paused and savoured the unease of the students around him.
"Last April, we decided to take action against your class for two reasons: the fact that your poor behaviour had worsened, as had your absentee levels. Should have heeded the warnings, and stayed in school, kids! The other reason is that we had had several other complaints about another class in your year group, so we decided to take both of your classes and teach you a lesson.
"Now, those of you who bothered coming into school occasionally might recognise me as Mr Jeyes, a part-time member of staff at your school. This was a lie. I actually work for the British military, and infiltrated your school to work as a teacher, and to keep an eye on you all. Now obviously," he smiled ironically as the class squirmed before him, "you weren't going to make things that easy for us, so we had to devote a lot of resources to keeping tags on you all! Some of you bastards were really hard to track! People like you, John--" he nodded at John at this point-- "who go wherever they please, whenever they please. We tried to join your two classes together, by persuading one of your teachers, Mrs Murphy, to go on long-term leave, and to unite both classes under the dedicated eye of good old Mr Davey"
An uneasy silence followed these words. Mr Jeyes didn't seem to notice. He had produced a Thermos flask from a small bag, and took a swig from it. Some in the class were wondering what he had meant by the word 'persuading' when talking about Mrs Murphy. The rest feared what had become of Mr Davey himself. Jeyes put his flask down and continued.
"Of course, some of you truants decided to make things easy for us. You made habits and routines; a few of you even got jobs," He said, gesticulating towards Robert Fraser in his blue overalls. "Our operation required getting all of you here together. We were going to opt for your trip to France over the Easter break, but it became apparent speaking to your teacher that many of you weren't going. So we decided to up the ante and bring the date forward to January. Namely, your maths examination."
Everybody was hooked on his words, and nobody thought of interrupting. Jeyes relished the power over the children, and was almost hungry for the execution of the final stages of the mission.
"It's been a very complex operation," he continued after the pause, his eyes alive and insane. "You, girl, made it especially difficult for us, deciding to go to Birmingham for a shopping break"
His eyes were fixed directly on Lindsay Vaughan, a rather short girl with light brown hair and piercing green eyes, who was one of the more persistent truants. She was American, and her parents had moved to England for personal reasons. She transferred to White Hill School when she was fourteen, but stopped attending after a few months; a combination of homesickness and a dislike of her new school made her boycott school so much that in some circles she had gained the nickname, 'Lindsay Who?' Currently she was sitting on one of the desks, fidgeting. She blanched when the teacher whom she did not recognise pointed at her, but she figured she might take a chance.
"Excuse me? But I don't know any of these people," Lindsay began, trying to make her faded American accent as broad as possible. "I'm American y'see, and I think you've confused me with somebody else, please"
She looked at Jeyes, trying to make her face as straight as possible. She knew exactly who these people were, though, and she was happy that none of them were blowing her story. This may be her only opportunity to escape. She touched the collar, fearful of the consequences of what she had said, as Jeyes took a file out of his bag, turned it to a page near the back, and walked towards her.
"Girl number twenty-four, Lindsay Vaughan, born November the third, daughter of Sarah and Michael Vaughan. United States passport holder. Home address, two-oh-six, Hunter's Lane. Younger sister, Dinah. Medical records: immunised against measles, mumps, rubella, tetanus, polio. Hospitalised aged twelve after being involved in a car accident in Pennsylvania, needing a large piece of metal removed from the left thigh, which left a large scar"
Two of the soldiers promptly came over to Lindsay and grabbed her arms. She wriggled helplessly as a third came and tugged her jeans down. She kicked at him indignantly, while a few of the other girls in the class squealed in shock. Jeyes said nothing, but stared at her thigh, where a large scar stared back at him. The look on his face had darkened. The ironic smile had gone, and was replaced with a look of calm fury. He gestured to the soldiers who were holding her, and they let her go. She slumped to the ground, her eyes watering with embarrassment.
"You asshole," she hissed as she hoisted her jeans back up. "You sick, fucking pervert"
"If there's one thing I hate more than a rude person," Jeyes said, looking down at her, "it's a liar. You're no good and pathetic, Vaughan. That's why you're here"
He cantered back suddenly, causing the class to jolt with fear.
"That's why you're all here! You've caused so many people suffering with no consequence, but now the terror you've caused over the years has come full circle"
He wheeled around and went to the front of the room again. There was a chalkboard at the front. His hand touched the green surface of it, then picked up a piece of chalk. Nobody could see what he was writing; his head was in the way. His hand was shaking passionately as he wrote some words on the board in block capitals, then spoke, without moving.
"It's not unusual any more, I'm afraid," Jeyes said sadly. "Your class is just one of countless thousands who make the lives of adults miserable. You are resistant to punishment. You are so confident in yourselves that you would probably stand up against punishment until the point of death. Japan was the first country to experience this crisis; I'm sure you all remember their economy collapsing at the dawn of the millennium. They introduced a system that dealt with scum like you lot. Other countries adopted it at later stages; America even televises it on a cable channel. Britain was more hesitant about adopting this law, as it felt its children were its future. But what sort of future was this? Violent crime? Muggings and fear and rapes and assaults hurting the law-abiding citizen? Is that our future? Well, some powerful rhetoric brought these problems to the fore, and the bleeding-heart liberals in our political system changed their minds quickly enough. You needn't know the details of the entire process, just the end result: a bill was introduced, one that would revolutionise our responses to potentially dangerous classes. It is known formally as the Juvenile Reform Bill"
Jeyes stepped aside and turned to face the class, the words he had written were exposed for everyone to see.
"It is known less formally," he concluded, "As 'Battle Royale'!"
The air in the room seemed colder, the silence was deafening, and the illumination made the ambience darker. The forty-nine faces of the assorted students of class 11D all stared at the two bold words adorning the board. Suddenly, a significant number of people had had their worst fears confirmed, whilst others were awakening to what they were about to face.
b"BATTLE ROYALE"/b