Chapter Seven

Chasies

I ran. The principal chased me. Throwing open a door I ran through it, slamming it behind me. When I turned to face the room, I realised something with a sinking stomach.

I was still in the 'fixers' room.

The other four kids, in the glass cases, turned to me, and I nearly hurled my lunch. Blood ran down their necks. Their eyes, hideously round, popped from their faceless heads. Their noses had gone, just two holes remained. And, worst of all, pulsating grotesquely from their uncovered faces, throbbed a fleshy, bloody, pink brain. Poking from the brain's frontal area was something black, a chip. They looked at me with blank eyes, uncovered veins and arteries spurting blood down their shirts. They reached for me and for a moment, I was frozen for that moment, their eyes were hypnotic. The first student's finger touched the glass and the whole thing shattered, sending shards of glass into his eyes. He did not even hesitate. The sound of breaking glass brought me to my senses and I ran. Through another door. And ended up in the detention room. The children were still there. The principal was there too. Grinning like a maniac. Holding a remote.

The others were stock still, like statues.

Robots, I thought, and knew it was true.

These helpless children, these poor vulnerable unaided kids, sent to the school by unsuspecting parents, and sent back home with chips in their brains, had never done anything to anyone. Sure, they may have broken some rules, but so has everyone. I bet you smoked pot behind your parent's backs. Or killed a guy. Sorry, radical thoughts. Back to the story, which you came to read. Not to see me or hear my opinions on Nukes or wars or suicide, 'cause no one ever listens to me.

You remember how I was taught how to assemble a CBU-58A/B bomb? Did you know, they're about the size of a baseball. Easy to hide. Another thing I learnt was how to assemble a Glock handgun in five seconds from old pieces of junk and anything that's lying around, say, a pipe cleaner? Nothing is impossible. I was soon holding a Glock in my hand and pointing it at Principal Shaft.

"Lemeeou." I stammered.

"Pardon?" Shaft asked calmly, but she was scared. Beads of sweat lined her brow.

"Let me out." I repeated, strangely calm.

"Or…?"

"I'll shoot. Swear to God, I'll shoot."

I am NOT anti-religionist

"That wouldn't be very nice."

I let off a warning shot, hitting P.Shaft in the shoulder.

"Alright." She muttered.

I ran out the door and into the boiler room.

"Two-faced, double-crossing, lying, sly bitch!" I hissed angrily.

Demolishing the handgun, I modelled a small, baseball-sized bomb. I typed in 00:12:05 on the timer and placed it under the boiler.

Thinking back to that day, it seems weird I didn't give myself more time. Like, say, 12:00:05? That may have stopped some events.

I turned to leave the boiler room when a door swung open. It led to the entry hall of Hornwell High and I knew it was my escape portal.

But there was one problem.