Kurt's heart was beating so fast. He couldn't talk, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. Everything around him was moving fast, but he stayed frozen against the far wall of Mrs. Key's classroom in Building C. It took Kurt a few seconds to realize that Nick was trying to talk to him.
"KURT!"
Nick's yells of his name shot through his stupor.
"Kurt, are you okay?" Nick asked, shaking Kurt's shoulder.
"Y-yeah, I think so. What's going on?"
Nick looked at Kurt like he was crazy.
"Well, besides the obvious!" Kurt said.
"Key's freaking out because she hasn't heard anything from Dean Thomas."
"Is that bad?"
"Yeah. Well, I mean it could be. During lockdown drills, the dean said to lock the doors, close the blinds, turn off the lights, and wait for him to come over the intercom. It's been like ten minutes. We were supposed to hear something by now.
"Everyone, hush!" Key whispered. "Do not say a single word to each other."
"But we need to call 911!" A boy quietly said from under a desk.
"No! You cannot use your cell phones! Everyone needs to turn them off. You cannot contact anyone from the outside. Not even your parents, or else they'll come here to get you and they'll be killed! And if the shooter is outside, he could see the light from your screens through the blinds!" Key whispered back furiously.
Kurt and Nick, who had left their phones back at their dorm, watched everyone as they turned their phones off, losing the only way they were gonna get help.
"We're all gonna die." Kurt whispered.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. We're all gonna die. We are all gonna—"
Blaine slapped Forrest. "Shut the fuck up!" he whispered.
"Blaine, what the hell, man?"
"Forrest, I swear, you need to shut your mouth. We're not gonna die, gah."
Blaine found it weird that he was trying to comfort the guy he hates, but he needed to say it if Forrest was gonna shut his mouth.
Blaine was sitting against the cabinets of an empty classroom next to Forrest Rodder in the north wing of Building F.
"A hundred students, nineteen classrooms, and somehow I end up with only you to keep me company in here. Great." Blaine mumbled.
"You know what, Blaine Anderson? You can be a dick sometimes." Forrest said in a hushed tone.
"You know what, Forrest Rodder? You are a pussy most of the time."
"I am not a pussy!"
"You were practically crying a few seconds ago!"
"No I was not!"
"Shh! Keep your voice down!"
"You keep your voice down, asshole!"
"You know what? I'm about to throw you out of the window right now, I swear."
"Don't start with me, now!"
"You know what—"
Just then, they heard the doors of the entrance to the wing clang open and closed. Unfamiliar voices carried down the hall.
Blaine and Forrest looked at each other with wide eyes and then directed their eyes at the classroom door; it was open just a tiny crack.
"We need to get Steel into one of these classrooms," Rafael said. He and Cory held Steel up by his elbows. Sheen of sweat had coated Steel's pale face as he clutched at the gun wound in his shoulder.
"I'm fine, you guys." He grunted.
"You can't even pick up your own gun." Troy said.
"In here." Rocky said, nodding to a classroom door that was open just a crack.
Shaun pushed the door open and Rafael and Cory rushed Steel through, setting him in a chair. The room was empty. There were no desks and most of the chairs were stacked up against the wall. A few lone chairs were scattered near the stacked chairs.
"Shit, what are we gonna do with you, man?" Troy said.
"I'm fine; we can just put a tourniquet or something on this and it'll be fine." Steel snapped.
"Fine, whatever. Someone, find a first aid kit or something." Rafael said.
Blaine watched them through the little crack of the cabinet doors in the way back corner of the room. Inside the cramped little cabinet, he and Forrest were trying to stay out of each other's space, curled up in their own corners while Blaine kept an eye on the group of men dressed in all black carrying guns. They both listened as the men continued to talk.
"Here, Raff." Shaun said, tossing Rafael the first aid kit he found in the cabinets next to the door. Rafael snatched the kit out of the air and opened it.
"So where do we go from here?" Cory asked.
"Uh, well we're in Building F, so we can start here. I'm sure some of them are here." Rocky replied.
"We should split up and then rendezvous back at Brennan once we've got everyone we need." Steel suggested.
"We already took two of them down earlier." Troy said.
"Who?" Cory asked.
"Marcus Foster, and, uh… what's-his-face, Jacob McDoll?" Rocky said.
"Nice. Two down, twenty-five to go." Rafael announced as he finished fixing the bandage on Steel's arm. Steel rose to his feet, slipped his thick jacket back on, and slung his gun over his shoulder.
"Let's go, I'm getting bored." Troy said.
Blaine watched as the six armed men made their way out of the room and down the hall to the left. Blaine waited for a few more minutes, just in case one of them came back. Then he slowly opened the cabinet door wider and slipped out onto the floor, Forrest following. Blaine crawled to the door and closed it as quietly as he could. Then he got his feet and faced Forrest, who was sitting against the cabinets hyperventilating. Blaine waved him off and started pacing the floor, thinking to himself.
They already killed people. Two people were already dead. Maybe more that they didn't mention. But why? Why Dalton? What do they want at Dalton that isn't really anywhere else? Damn, that sounds cruel, but Dalton has the most amazing kids here. What would those guys want from us? What problem do they have with us? Blaine tried to think of why they were here, but couldn't. He analyzed what the gunmen were saying earlier.
"So where do we go from here?"
"Uh, well we're in Building B, so we can start here. I'm sure some of them are here."
"We should split up and then rendezvous back at Brennan once we've got everyone we need."
"We already took two of them down earlier."
"Who?"
"Marcus Foster, and, uh… what's-his-face, Jacob McDoll?"
"Nice. Two down, twenty-five to go."
Blaine's eyebrows scrunched together. They're obviously targeting people. But who?
"Blaine, stop pacing. You're making me dizzy." Forrest said weakly.
Blaine stopped pacing. He had forgotten that Forrest was there. Blaine looked over at him. Forrest was lying on the floor, his pale cheek on the cold floor tiles.
"Forrest, you okay?" Blaine asked.
"I've been better." He mumbled back and closed his eyes.
Blaine crouched down at Forrest's side and felt his forehead.
"You cold?" Blaine asked.
"No." Forrest replied.
Blaine stood up and turned to the door to find the first aid kit and noticed something on the floor near the door. He walked over and picked it up.
"What's that?" Forrest asked.
"I don't know." Blaine murmured, unfolding the paper.
On the paper was a list of 27 students that attended Dalton in alphabetical order. Blaine caught glimpses of the names and recognized some of them: Samuel Locker, Jordan Taylors, Marcus Foster, Shock Mathews, Forrest Rodder, Markie Archibald, Jacob McDoll…Kurt Hummel… Blaine Anderson…
Blaine's hand shook as he read the title of the list.
Homo Hitlist.
Teeheehee. I slipped in a little Harry Potter reference by naming the dean of Dalton Mickey Thomas, making his professional name Dean Thomas. I had already chosen a name for the dean, but then I forgot what the hell it was, and so I had to make another one up on the spot when I was writing, and the name Dean Thomas popped into my head.
R&R please