The Bachman Books

'Please move away from the building. I repeat. Will you please move away from the building. Move up to the shoulder of the highway. Move up to the shoulder of the highway. We will have buses here to pick you up shortly. School is canceled for-'

Short, bewildered whoop.

' . . . for the remainder of the day. Now, please move away from the building.'

A bunch of teachers-both men and women this time-started herding them up toward the road. They were craning and babbling. I looked for Joe McKennedy but didn't see him anywhere.

'Is it all right to do homework?' Melvin Thomas asked tremblingly. There was a general laugh. They seemed surprised to hear it.

'Go ahead.' I thought for a moment and added: 'If you want to smoke, go ahead and do it. '

A couple of them grabbed for their pockets. Sylvia Ragan, doing her lady-of-the-manor bit, fished a battered pack of Camels delicately out of her purse and lit up with leisurely elegance. She blew out a plume of smoke and dropped her match on the floor. She stretched out her legs, not bothering overmuch with the nuisance of her skirt. She looked comfy.

There had to be more, though. I was getting along pretty well, but there had to be a thousand things I wasn't thinking of. Not that it mattered.

'If you've got a friend you want to sit next to, go ahead and change around. But don't try to rush at me or run out the door, please.'

A couple of kids changed next to their buddies, walking quickly and softly, but most of them just sat quiet. Melvin Thomas had opened his algebra book but couldn't seem to concentrate on it. He was staring at me glassily.

There was a faint metallic chink! from the upper corner of the room. Somebody had just opened the intercom system.

'Hello,' Denver said. 'Hello, Room 16.'

'Hello,' I said.

'Who's that?'

'Charlie Decker.'

Long pause. Finally: 'What's going on down there, Decker?'

I thought it over. 'I guess I'm going berserk,' I said.

An even longer pause. Then, almost rhetorically: 'What have you done?'

I motioned at Ted Jones. He nodded back at me politely. 'Mr. Denver?'

'Who's that?'

'Ted Jones, Mr. Denver. Charlie has a gun. He's holding us hostage. He's killed Mrs. Underwood. And I think he killed Mr. Vance, too.'

'I'm pretty sure I did,' I said.

'Oh,' Mr. Denver said.

Sarah Pasterne giggled again.

'Ted Jones?'

'I'm here,' Ted told him. He sounded very competent, Ted did, but at the same time distant. Like a first lieutenant who has been to college. You had to admire him.

'Who is in the classroom besides you and Decker?'

'Just a sec,' I said. 'I'll call the roll. Hold on.'

I got Mrs. Underwood's green attendance book and opened it up. 'Period two, right?'

'Yeah,' Corky said.

'Okay. Here we go. Irma Bates?'

'I want to go home! ' Irma screamed defiantly.

'She's here,' I said. 'Susan Brooks?'

'Here. '

'Nancy Caskin?'

'Here. '

I went through the rest of the roll. There were twenty-five names, and the only absentee was Peter Franklin.

'Has Peter Franklin been shot?' Mr. Denver asked quietly.

'He's got the measles,' Don Lordi said. This brought on another attack of the giggles. Ted Jones frowned deeply.

'Decker?'

'Yes.'