She ran into one, throwing her weight into it, but it didn’t budge.
“Let us in!” she screamed. She could see people in the room. Two of them argued, but most backed themselves into the corners, or hid behind book shelves. “Please!”
A man moved to open the door, but was grabbed roughly by another. They struggled. Nicole saw one of the men who had come through the door of the makeshift hospital when it opened; the one with the bad cut on his hand. He sat in the corner, his head rolling back and forth.
They had to find another room, but at each one they met the same situation.
They know we went down the hall, was her only thought as her eyes darted from locked door to locked door. They know we led those ... things here. It’s our fault. It’s my fault.
“Hey!” someone shouted, “over here!” She looked down the hall and saw a young woman she recognized, though she wasn’t sure why. She had ducked out from a room and stood with the door open. “Come on!”
Nicole ran, still dragging the two boys with her, though now they moved on their own, at least.
The woman slammed the door behind them and Nicole fell to her knees, taking Ryan and David with her. The woman dropped to the floor, consoling them. When she started talking to David, Nicole realized it was Ms. MacNeil who had taught them both fourth grade. She knew that David had liked her, though she had never really gotten along with her. At that moment, she loved her.
Assured that the three were all right, Ms. MacNeil got to her feet. “There,” she said, glaring at a man with a bloody nose. “Now you can cover the door.” As she moved the kids farther into the room she muttered to herself, “Imagine, locking anyone out when they needed help.” From her tone, and bloodied knuckles, Nicole guessed at how the man had gotten the bloody nose.
The others dragged a bookshelf to the door, books spilling out of it as they went. Nicole felt sick realizing how lucky they were to have gotten there when they did.
“We’re safe in here,” Ms. MacNeil told them. “David? David, can you hear me?” When he didn’t respond, she looked to Nicole. “Is he all right?”
Nicole wasn’t sure if she was all right, let alone her panic-stricken brother. However, at that moment all she could say was, “Yeah.”
“Okay, good,” said Ms. MacNeil with a forced smile. She put her hands on either side of Nicole’s face and looked straight into her eyes. “You’re a hero, you know that? You saved these two boys.”
Nicole felt better, feeling the warm hands on her face, and the reassuring voice of her former teacher. And her eyes. They were much better than the ones that looked at her from Aunt Carol’s face. Maybe things would be okay.
She looked around and realized that it was the same room where they had spent the night. It all looked familiar but she noticed a lot of the blankets were strewn about, including a pile covering something up on one of the cots.
The room now had eight occupants: herself, David, Ryan, Ms. MacNeil, the man with the bloody nose, a young couple, and another familiar man. It took Nicole a moment to recognize the doctor, the uninjured one, who had run out of the medical centre when she first walked into St. Joseph’s. He sat on the floor against a counter full of textbooks, his head in his hands as he wept. Nicole could not imagine the things that he had seen that morning. She wondered if he had seen her face at St. Joseph’s; if he knew what she had done to cause what had just happened.
“So, now what?” asked the bloody-nosed man. He had an aggressive tone that made Nicole think that he’d get another punch soon. He seemed to be asking Ms. MacNeil—their assumed leader.
Ms. MacNeil thought for a second, looking out into the hall through the bookshelf. The mayhem below resounded off the cinderblock walls like a war zone. “We have two options,” she started. “One is that we wait here.”
“Fat chance there,” said the man. The rest of the room agreed with him through silent nods. Even Nicole, regretfully, agreed with him, though she showed no sign of it.
“Or,” Ms. MacNeil continued, “we can try to get out those windows.”
The young woman from the couple stood and opened the curtains. The challenge was clear: even though the windows were almost seven feet tall, only the tops opened and were far too narrow for most adults to fit through.
“Nice plan,” the bloody-nosed man said.
At least she’s trying, Nicole thought, hoping that someone would punch him again.
But no one moved or said a word. They would just wait and hope for the best. Maybe things would clear up. Things looked bad, but they could turn better.
The doctor started moaning. As his hands dropped from his face, Nicole saw pain in his bloodshot eyes. Bloody sweat dripped from his face. His hands were covered in darker blood.
Nicole was confused. He was fine ...
Suddenly his eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the floor, convulsing violently. Ms. MacNeil and the young woman who had opened the curtains ran to him.
“What’s wrong with him?” the young man asked his girlfriend.
“I don’t know!”
“He’s having a seizure,” Ms. MacNeil said, touching his forehead. “He’s on fire!” She reached down to loosen the doctor’s shirt from his collar and pulled her hand quickly back. Her fingers were covered with thick blood.
“Oh my God!” said the young woman, going pale as she fell back on her heels.
“It’s okay,” Ms. MacNeil said. “Everything’s all right.” Nicole was familiar with that phrase and tone from teachers. The last time she heard it was Grade 4, when a kid fell off a swing-set and had to be rushed to the hospital. He was in a coma for about a month. Things hadn’t been all right then.
Things
