Harry crashed into the chairs at the back of the classroom. He could see them clearly now. They had followed him all the way from the courtyard. And he had seen those long claws somewhere before.
He picked up a chair…
snow in summertime
a broken wheelchair with rusty spokes
…it cracked sickeningly on the head of the first creature as he brought it down. The second approached, brandishing claws. He raised the claw of the corpse beside him…
Cheryl
Cheryl ran away
I found her in this perpetual night time
hurt her
bleeding
I shot her
…and drove it into the chest of his assailant. It screamed like a child. It staggered and fell back, a crimson jet spurting from the wound. As it lay wheezing it seemed to stare at him sadly…
there had been a light
I fired in fear
I hurt Cheryl
killed her
...What had he done?
He sat in the gooey red mess he had created as the room began to spin about him.
He would never hurt Cheryl. It must have been another bad dream. But the image seemed so vivid in his mind. Reality and fantasy were becoming difficult to tell apart. Perhaps he was asleep in the classroom right now. Perhaps he was yet to be found, in the jeep slumped over the steering wheel.
Still, he didn't like the notion that what happened to Cheryl could be real. That he could be responsible for her disappearance. That she might be...
No, it hadn't happened, she hadn't been harmed.
But if she was okay then where the hell was she?
He shook his head, trying to turn his thoughts back to his current predicament. He surveyed the classroom. The creatures were gone. The chairs and desks were gone. A large, dirty steel table stood in their place. It was empty apart from a blue telephone with an old fashioned dial on the front. It was exactly the same as his home phone, right down to the deep scratch on the handset. That had been gouged out when Cheryl had been riding her new bike indoors and crashed into it. What was it doing here?
He picked it up. No dial tone.
"How predictable" he muttered to himself as he replaced the receiver.
He sprang back in shock as the silence was suddenly broken. The phone was ringing in loud peals. His heart thumped. The line had been dead just a second ago...although the phone even being here didn't make any sense.
He tentatively lifted the receiver and put it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello Daddy."
"Cheryl..." he half whispered, trying desperately to repress his emotions, "Where are you? I've been so worried. Are you hurt?"
"I don't have time for that now. You can't help me. You have to get out."
"No Cheryl. I'm not leaving without you."
"I'm safe here Daddy. I can't leave here again anyway. She wouldn't let me."
"Who is she? Who took you?" he shouted desperately, "What do they want?"
"Please Daddy, you have to go. That teacher needs you. She's in trouble."
"Lydia? How do you know about Lydia?"
The line clicked.
"Cheryl?"
Everything was quiet again. Cheryl was gone. No dial tone. Harry replaced the handset. He leaned on the table. He rested there, too stunned to move. Cheryl was alive. But where was she? How was he going to find her? And how did she know about Lydia? They had never met.
She had to be here in the school, that was the only explanation. He was close, he felt that somehow, but he had no idea where else to search. Most of the doors here were locked or blocked off. And Lydia was in trouble. He had to go back.