STAGE ONE: Set Stage
STAGE ONE: Set Stage
Rob opened the nearly out-of-order refridgerator, it contained an almost empty jar of peanut butter and a full loaf of bread. Though, his attention was drawn to the dozens of orange juice bottles on the inside door shelf. He took one bottle by it's glass neck, ripping off the plastic top and drinking the bottle with no pause. He put the empty bottle back, clearing his throat of the little bit of orange juice that had gone down the wrong way. He fixed his short black hair up, pushing it forward with a handful of water from the newly bought silver sink beside the refridgerator. It was clear that he was in a hurry, his movements were quick and deliberate. He began to clean up the array of food that was carelessly left out the night before, it was another unfortunate night that he had missed a party that a friend threw while he was asleep. A block of cheese was the last thing to go, Rob had no intentions of touching it. He pulled the trash can up to the edge of the counter and pushed the cheese over with a nearby spatula. He slid the trash can back and bolted out the doorway into the living room. The area was a complete mess, red cups and styrofoam plates littered the floor and couch. Though small, the living room was quite cozy. The drapes hid the living room, dawning the excess light onto the couch. Rob groaned at the newfound dirty room, grabbing an oversized backpack on the couch and slinging it over his shoulder. He hurried past the small walkway between the coffee table and television set, making his way to an old wooden front door. He pulled it open, sliding out of the small space he gave himself.
The surrounding neighborhood was very well kept; honey locust trees lined the sidewalk, the houses were well kept, and had an overall feeling of tranquility. The sun was above the horizon now, the apricot light shined upon the whole street. ((4/16/08)) There weren't many cars parked along side the street, mainly because many of the neighborhood's residents cared a tad bit more than others and kept them safe in their garages. The houses too, were a sign, they were grand and their yards were spacious, some even had guest house; Rob was a resident of one of those guest houses.
He stepped out onto a mat that was imprinted with the word "Welcome!" and inhaled deeply, taking special note to this morning's details. In front of him was a winding brick pathway that was somewhat narrow, leading to a concrete area that displayed a top-of-the-line grill and a fairly large patio table and chairs. Beyond this area, the brick pathway led straight to a glimmering pool that spanned at least ten feet across the backyard. On either side, a very well kept garage was to it's left, and an even more glamorous two-story house to the right. Rob shrugged, strolling his way to the pristine house, across the almost flawless green lawn. Coming to a window that was almost his height, he knocked almost furiously on the pane. The blinds that had shielded the inside from wandering eyes flew upwards, a round-faced teenager with copper toned skin glared out, staring at Rob. He brushed back his black, straight and somewhat long hair from his eyes and raised the window up, making a slight shriek of metal-against-metal.
"Hey... your hair's kind of... messy." Rob mentioned to him as he climbed out of the window.
"So? It's always like this..." He replied, pushing his feet out.
This was Buddy "Bud" Ashwalker. Bud and Rob, best friends to the first degree, have been waking up thirty minutes after the suggested time for getting to school everyday. Both sixteen, Bud and Rob have been living like this for two years. Bud's parents could be called filthy rich at the peak of their salaries, which is why their house, garage, and guest house were not standard living conditions. In their philosophy, Bud's parents believed that Rob was too mature for his previous living conditions, and thus giving him the pleasure of staying in their guest house, the only reason for Rob's residence being that he and Bud were close friends. But with this lavish gift came responsibility, as with all good things. Cleaning, cooking, shopping, maintaining, and hard work had been what Rob was charged with, though he saw no challenge in any of them.
Bud landed on the perfect grass below; his figure was enormous. Standing at six-foot-three and weighing approximately three hundred pounds, Bud towered over Rob's five-foot-five and one hundred and fifteen pound physique. Their physical structures were completely the opposite; Rob's shoulder were small and drawn in, while Bud's shoulders were straight and almost board-like. Even their clothes differed entirely, Bud wore loose denim jeans that sagged down to his thighs, he donned a red and black lumberjack's sweatshirt, and a black shirt with various illustrations beneath it. Rob wore denim jeans as well, but his were pulled to his waist and extremely snug around his lower half. His upper half only differed in size, a black faded concert T-Shirt clung to his body. Bud easily reached into the veiled darkness beyond the window and took his backpack by the strap, hauling it outside and onto one shoulder.
"Ready?" Rob sighed.
"As ready as I'll ever be..." Bud shrugged, and they both made their way around the house, following the ever present narrow brick pathway.
Shrouded by chestnut trees, a newly installed birchwood fence guarded the backyard from the outside world, and a gate placed near the side of the house gave access to it. Rob first came to it, Bud lagged behind in a slump. At the foot of the gate was a deadbolt lock, he slid it open and gently pushed the gate open. The brick pathway continued past the gate, merging with a much larger pathway that connected the house with the sidewalk. A lukewarm gust of wind swayed the honey locusts' branches, making them move amongst the morning glow. Rob and Bud proceeded down the small pathway, and merged onto the larger, strolling across the sidewalk and into the middle of the street where they turned left. The street was so lightly used that there was no worry of vehicles coming their way, largely due to the almost disturbing suburban atmosphere. Rob cleared his throat, a miniscule amount of orange juice still lingering in his throat bothering him.
"Hey, did you see who came in last night?" Rob gave Bud a puzzled look, and vice versa.
"No... someone came in again?" Bud questioned.
"Apparently. The place was trashed, cups and food, stuff like that was all over."
Bud sighed "You know my parents aren't going to like it if they walk in and see that... or did you clean it up?"
"No... well, I cleaned up the food and crap, not the cups."
"You must have been taking some heavy sedatives or something," Bud chuckled "because apparently you missed the phone call about the assembly early this morning."
"Well, someone must have drugged me then. I didn't get a call... wait, from the school?"
"Yep. About nine-o'-clock last night." Bud confirmed. Rob arched an eye brow and pondered to himself. They both adjusted their backpacks.
"So there's an assembly today?" Rob checked his hair out of self-conciousness. Perfect.
"Sometime during second period, I think. I didn't really listen to the time, just the fact that we were going to skip a little bit of class."
The street was littered with maple tree seeds that drifted from the trees as a result of the unusually common winds today. The sun stood higher on the eastern horizon, the now golden bright light beaming onto their sides. Rob and Bud had since engaged in an entirely new conversation.
"I'm sure you have to use about your whole company to kill them. Otherwise, they come back with full resources and all the good stuff..." Rob talked, and Bud listened with intent.
"But my main city will be defenseless!" Bud posed an issue.
"Do you have all of your cities maxed out on barracks?"
"Yeah!" Bud seemed almost too wrapped up in the dilemma.
Rob looked troubled, almost defeated "Cheat." he bluntly said. They both chuckled. Video games, like any other teenage boy, were the prime of their recreational time. If there wasn't talk of the latest release or previous loss against the final boss on the last level, something was indifferent. More importantly were the twin laptops that both of them had been given from the last school summer vacation by Bud's parents. This was the epicenter of Bud and Rob's communication, networking, and video game playing. Without them, things wouldn't be the same. Ahead was a building that almost seemed to dampen the conversation about cheat codes and virtual tactics. It was a two story building, the structure covered half of the city block it occupied, then fading off into a half parking lot, half enclosed tennis court, and then farther along was a small child's park complete with swings and see-saws. This was the high school, grades ninth through twelfth were hosted. In an almost depressing way, Rob dove the conversation into the topic of grades and homework.
"Ms. Reddingdale gave me an 'F' on my test. Guess why?" Rob asked, a sliver of annoyance in his voice.
"Why?" Bud replied.
"Because I gave that kid next to me, you know Tom Kirkwood? Yeah, I gave him a pencil, and she accused me of cheating." Rob scoffed. This was obviously not a happy topic, but it was a relieving one.
"Yeah, well, if I keep getting 'F's in Biology class work... my parents are going to take away the truck." Bud sounded as if he was delivering the news of a deceased relative. Rob almost forgot to breathe once when he heard this come from Bud.
"You're kidding. The truck?!" He raised his voice, questioning Bud's statement.
"Take away the keys, that's it though. I might get it copied..."
"Come on... how many 'F's are we dealing with?"
"Sixteen." Bud lowered his head.
"Sixteen, Bud? You'd have to be asleep the whole class every day since February to get sixteen!" He lowered his voice, but it only turned into a quiet hiss.
"I know! I know..." Bud sighed. "Well, what about you?"
Rob entered Bud's state of defeat as well now. "'F's. As far as the eye can see." He tried to lighten the mood, and was successful. The topic shifted, as well as their grinning expressions. As they came upon a crossroads of two streets, the school just ahead, there was disbelief and confusion as they looked up and gazed at the line of black pick-up trucks and sport utility vehilces.
((4/17/08)) They seemed like they were parked in unison, every tire was straight and every truck was an inch from the curb, no more and no less. On the hood of every single one was the U.S. Government Seal printed in the exact center. The windows were heavily tinted, and the windshield's glass resembled a fading mirror. Rob and Bud stopped, in the crossroads of Edgewood Avenue and thirty-third street west. The maple trees swayed again, their seeds slowly dancing to the tar surface of the road. Rob and Bud remained still, remaining completely motionless at the end of Edgewood. Rob sighed momentarily, shooting his statue like gaze at the parking lot to the right of the school. Every parking space was filled with a black cargo truck, the seal printed on the retractable door on the back of every one of them. Rob tapped Bud on his upper arm, pointing to the dozens of black metal giants.
"What's going on?" Bud asked, his voice low.
"This is the assembly, isn't it?" Rob was in awe, almost speechless. Rob shifted his foot, getting ready to step forward. Bud advanced faster, slowly striding left down thirty-third street, inspecting the odd vehicles. Rob walked forward, slipping in between two trucks and onto the sidewalk. He almost jumped across the threshold, scared that something might happen, or that someone would appear from somewhere. Their paranoia was only peaked when they glanced at the school; the lights were all on, but no movement occured in the classrooms. This was unusual since the faculty usually came in at around five in the morning. Bud made his way through the procession of trucks, hiking his way up the concrete flight of stairs that led to the school's terrace. Rob followed him, proceeding further and cautiously approaching the second flight of stairs that gave way to the front doors. ((5/5/08)) Five doors made up the school's main entryway, all of which were locked during school hours. A stone slab walkway branched off from the entry way, leading to the lunch room doors. Above the path and the main entry was an industrial iron canopy, the architecture plain and set mostly upon functionality and endurance over attractiveness. Bud fished around in his jeans pocket, holding them by the waist with his other hand. Grasped between his fingers was a plastic card, Bud's half smiling face plastered on the front with the words "South Haven High, CLASS OF 2012" printed below the portrait. He flipped the card to the other side, a long bar code striped the side. Rob quietly approached him from behind, looking past his arm and at the card. A small gray box mounted beside the last entry way stalked them with its small red light that shone at the top right of the box.
"You sure about that?" Rob asked calmly, Bud looked down past his left arm to see him peeking at the card.
"Why not?" Bud questioned.
"They might record that you were late. What if we get in really big trouble like last time?" Rob stood aside him now, gazing at the box. Inside, the lights beamed down on the secondary foyer that gave access to the pay phones and general shelter from the outside. The large area rugs that covered the pseudo cobblestone vinyl floors were a gaudy blue, with tiny specs of red sewn in. The entire area was empty.
Bud waved the card in front of the box and it beeped in confirmation, the red light instantly changing to an allowing green, the front door locks clicked open. Bud pulled at the door's steel handle, stepping into the school at last. Rob followed, walking in front of Bud and through the open doors at their right. This was the main foyer, decorated with trophy cases and a glass enclosed bell that was an artifact of some old historical event. Benches cuddled up to the exhibit's side, made from the same hard vinyl as the floor, area rugs only served as a short strip of carpet that was for cleaning the bottom of one's shoe, it ended almost a quarter into the elongated foyer. The left side housed a concessions stand, companion to the double oak doors next to it with a plaque above that read "Auditorium". Rob looked around and craned his neck around to catch something in the hallway that branched off from the foyer at it's right corner, a flight of stairs a few feet away from the alternate hall led into a gray, unappealing basement. Beside the unlively flight of stairs was one which ascended into the actual classrooms, the steps were wide with a handrail placed in between them. There was a sense of absence of life and yet, the lights suggested that things were normal and according.
Bud uncrumpled a small blue sheet of paper, printed on the face was a list of seven classes in small print.
"What's your first hour, man?" He seemed to ignore the fact that no one occupied the hallways((ONE)). Rob progessed forward towards the ascending stairs slowly, cocking his head to the side and haunching over a bit.
"Do you hear that?" He stopped, turning to Bud. A screech escaped from the Auditorium doors, and a second later was a horrendous sound. A cold, spine shivering sound rang out from the Auditorium, a round of bullets being unleashed behind the steel doors, they came in a continuous wave and the sound did not stop. A moment later the sound subsided, screams erupted from hundreds of people. Rob turned to Bud, there was a mutual glare between them, although Bud's eyes were fixed upon the stairs. It seemed like half of a second passed before they took action and stormed up the stairs ahead of them, their backpacks swaying from side to side and the zippers madly jingling like Sunday bells. Their steps woke the dead, stomping to the top, almost gliding on their feet down the hallway in front of them. They pulled on various classroom doors to the right, and the gymnasium's steel doors to the left. All the time cursing, their choice of entries became narrowed as the classroom doors ran dry and the last door was the Boy's Locker Room entrance, tightly locked in place. Finally, open doors gave way to a hallway, Bud's height almost corresponded with the low ceiling in this section, but the ceiling soon opened up generously as they strode along the tan and white tiled hallways. There was an oddity, though. Along these walls and sometimes stacked to the ceilings were boxes, as white as a pleasant day's cloud, their steps decreased as they looked around at them. Rob almost stopped into a slow-motion jog, examining the boxes with much interest. Bud on the other hand was pushing against glass pane doors, they led out from the hallway and into the school's sports field. Ahead, more open escape routes, yet more boxes. Their heart rates still high and their palms still clammy, Bud looked around with his mouth agape. Rob looked ahead, stairs. This was, no doubt, another opportunity to shield themselves from the presence of fire arms, he almost took two steps up at a time. Bud followed with no hesitation, they turned onto a corresponding flight of stairs, stepping over the four-foot landing and grasping a pair of door handles. They looked around, having escaped the main floor, their options widened. The right gave them the Secondary Media Center with unlocked, but the left offered the chance of a few more large art classrooms as a much more valuable refuge. They almost split themselves up, Bud going to the right, Rob to the left.
"No, no, the Media Center has scissors and all the office stationary you'd dream of!" Rob pleaded for Bud to follow.
"Art! Dude, do the words 'chisel' and 'hammer' ring any bells?" He debated. Bud dragged Rob to the Art rooms by his arm, he wrung the handles and cursed. Locked.
"Alright, smart ass, Media Center then." He turned back.
"Smart ass! Oh man, you're one to talk. I don't think a hammer can stop a gun, genius."
Bud scoffed "And your staplers will do something better?" He reached the doors, his heart fluttering with relief. Yet, as he reached, the locks within clicked, one by one. Shut out, he suppressed the loud words that tried to escape, stomping on the vinyl.
((TWO))
As they traversed, there was no choice but to go back downstairs. The third floor's doors were fastened like a bolt to steel. The open stairs that gave access were obstructed by the white boxes, and their minds seemed almost swelled with fear. Tip-toeing down the stairs they accessed the second floor by, they stopped, hearing a light clammoring down the hall. They shuffled back down to the first floor, and down a crescent-shaped hallway, it seemed like the school was constricting them like a python. The florescent lights above flickered on an off a couple of times, and the boxes had stalked them here as well. Rob stopped, halfway down the hallway, pulling Bud's arm.
"Where are we going? If we keep walking, we'll be back to the Auditorium." Rob sounded concerned, as expected.
"Uh, maybe we can leave? The exit is just around the corner." Bud's voice was shaking. There was a beeping and garbled voice; a radio system was squaking down the hall, and someone replied to the gibberish. They both pinned themselves against the boxes that still lined the hallways, hiding from anything ahead of them. Rob cursed, two shrouded figures rushed into sight. Both dressed in black military grade armor, wielding automatic rifles and a face obstructing helmet, two apparent patrol guards approached Bud and Rob, fastening their rifles on their backs and restraining the two immediately. Rob's face rammed into the wall, Bud's stomach taking the blow for himself. The patrol gave an inspection, searching for weapons and things of the like. One tilted his head to talk into a radio.
"Two kids wandering the hall, outside of H.B." A burly man's voice exited the genderless helmet, he nodded at the other patrol, they both hauled Rob and Bud off, continuing down the hallway. They rounded the hallway, approaching a stereotypical school library, computers and books coexisting in a large room just three classrooms large. The patrol swung the double sided doors open, pushing the boys into the library and shutting the door. It had changed, the library. Men and women in white lab coats with laptops and wires extending across the room looked up at them, cases carrying some sort of technology, the school's computers placed in one corner of the room, replaced by giant processors and printers. They all looked up, but only one from the countless approached them. He was a bald man, teeth somewhat uncared for, a pair of stylish glasses sat on his nose. He smiled, clasping his hands together.
Rob opened the nearly out-of-order refridgerator, it contained an almost empty jar of peanut butter and a full loaf of bread. Though, his attention was drawn to the dozens of orange juice bottles on the inside door shelf. He took one bottle by it's glass neck, ripping off the plastic top and drinking the bottle with no pause. He put the empty bottle back, clearing his throat of the little bit of orange juice that had gone down the wrong way. He fixed his short black hair up, pushing it forward with a handful of water from the newly bought silver sink beside the refridgerator. It was clear that he was in a hurry, his movements were quick and deliberate. He began to clean up the array of food that was carelessly left out the night before, it was another unfortunate night that he had missed a party that a friend threw while he was asleep. A block of cheese was the last thing to go, Rob had no intentions of touching it. He pulled the trash can up to the edge of the counter and pushed the cheese over with a nearby spatula. He slid the trash can back and bolted out the doorway into the living room. The area was a complete mess, red cups and styrofoam plates littered the floor and couch. Though small, the living room was quite cozy. The drapes hid the living room, dawning the excess light onto the couch. Rob groaned at the newfound dirty room, grabbing an oversized backpack on the couch and slinging it over his shoulder. He hurried past the small walkway between the coffee table and television set, making his way to an old wooden front door. He pulled it open, sliding out of the small space he gave himself.
The surrounding neighborhood was very well kept; honey locust trees lined the sidewalk, the houses were well kept, and had an overall feeling of tranquility. The sun was above the horizon now, the apricot light shined upon the whole street. ((4/16/08)) There weren't many cars parked along side the street, mainly because many of the neighborhood's residents cared a tad bit more than others and kept them safe in their garages. The houses too, were a sign, they were grand and their yards were spacious, some even had guest house; Rob was a resident of one of those guest houses.
He stepped out onto a mat that was imprinted with the word "Welcome!" and inhaled deeply, taking special note to this morning's details. In front of him was a winding brick pathway that was somewhat narrow, leading to a concrete area that displayed a top-of-the-line grill and a fairly large patio table and chairs. Beyond this area, the brick pathway led straight to a glimmering pool that spanned at least ten feet across the backyard. On either side, a very well kept garage was to it's left, and an even more glamorous two-story house to the right. Rob shrugged, strolling his way to the pristine house, across the almost flawless green lawn. Coming to a window that was almost his height, he knocked almost furiously on the pane. The blinds that had shielded the inside from wandering eyes flew upwards, a round-faced teenager with copper toned skin glared out, staring at Rob. He brushed back his black, straight and somewhat long hair from his eyes and raised the window up, making a slight shriek of metal-against-metal.
"Hey... your hair's kind of... messy." Rob mentioned to him as he climbed out of the window.
"So? It's always like this..." He replied, pushing his feet out.
This was Buddy "Bud" Ashwalker. Bud and Rob, best friends to the first degree, have been waking up thirty minutes after the suggested time for getting to school everyday. Both sixteen, Bud and Rob have been living like this for two years. Bud's parents could be called filthy rich at the peak of their salaries, which is why their house, garage, and guest house were not standard living conditions. In their philosophy, Bud's parents believed that Rob was too mature for his previous living conditions, and thus giving him the pleasure of staying in their guest house, the only reason for Rob's residence being that he and Bud were close friends. But with this lavish gift came responsibility, as with all good things. Cleaning, cooking, shopping, maintaining, and hard work had been what Rob was charged with, though he saw no challenge in any of them.
Bud landed on the perfect grass below; his figure was enormous. Standing at six-foot-three and weighing approximately three hundred pounds, Bud towered over Rob's five-foot-five and one hundred and fifteen pound physique. Their physical structures were completely the opposite; Rob's shoulder were small and drawn in, while Bud's shoulders were straight and almost board-like. Even their clothes differed entirely, Bud wore loose denim jeans that sagged down to his thighs, he donned a red and black lumberjack's sweatshirt, and a black shirt with various illustrations beneath it. Rob wore denim jeans as well, but his were pulled to his waist and extremely snug around his lower half. His upper half only differed in size, a black faded concert T-Shirt clung to his body. Bud easily reached into the veiled darkness beyond the window and took his backpack by the strap, hauling it outside and onto one shoulder.
"Ready?" Rob sighed.
"As ready as I'll ever be..." Bud shrugged, and they both made their way around the house, following the ever present narrow brick pathway.
Shrouded by chestnut trees, a newly installed birchwood fence guarded the backyard from the outside world, and a gate placed near the side of the house gave access to it. Rob first came to it, Bud lagged behind in a slump. At the foot of the gate was a deadbolt lock, he slid it open and gently pushed the gate open. The brick pathway continued past the gate, merging with a much larger pathway that connected the house with the sidewalk. A lukewarm gust of wind swayed the honey locusts' branches, making them move amongst the morning glow. Rob and Bud proceeded down the small pathway, and merged onto the larger, strolling across the sidewalk and into the middle of the street where they turned left. The street was so lightly used that there was no worry of vehicles coming their way, largely due to the almost disturbing suburban atmosphere. Rob cleared his throat, a miniscule amount of orange juice still lingering in his throat bothering him.
"Hey, did you see who came in last night?" Rob gave Bud a puzzled look, and vice versa.
"No... someone came in again?" Bud questioned.
"Apparently. The place was trashed, cups and food, stuff like that was all over."
Bud sighed "You know my parents aren't going to like it if they walk in and see that... or did you clean it up?"
"No... well, I cleaned up the food and crap, not the cups."
"You must have been taking some heavy sedatives or something," Bud chuckled "because apparently you missed the phone call about the assembly early this morning."
"Well, someone must have drugged me then. I didn't get a call... wait, from the school?"
"Yep. About nine-o'-clock last night." Bud confirmed. Rob arched an eye brow and pondered to himself. They both adjusted their backpacks.
"So there's an assembly today?" Rob checked his hair out of self-conciousness. Perfect.
"Sometime during second period, I think. I didn't really listen to the time, just the fact that we were going to skip a little bit of class."
The street was littered with maple tree seeds that drifted from the trees as a result of the unusually common winds today. The sun stood higher on the eastern horizon, the now golden bright light beaming onto their sides. Rob and Bud had since engaged in an entirely new conversation.
"I'm sure you have to use about your whole company to kill them. Otherwise, they come back with full resources and all the good stuff..." Rob talked, and Bud listened with intent.
"But my main city will be defenseless!" Bud posed an issue.
"Do you have all of your cities maxed out on barracks?"
"Yeah!" Bud seemed almost too wrapped up in the dilemma.
Rob looked troubled, almost defeated "Cheat." he bluntly said. They both chuckled. Video games, like any other teenage boy, were the prime of their recreational time. If there wasn't talk of the latest release or previous loss against the final boss on the last level, something was indifferent. More importantly were the twin laptops that both of them had been given from the last school summer vacation by Bud's parents. This was the epicenter of Bud and Rob's communication, networking, and video game playing. Without them, things wouldn't be the same. Ahead was a building that almost seemed to dampen the conversation about cheat codes and virtual tactics. It was a two story building, the structure covered half of the city block it occupied, then fading off into a half parking lot, half enclosed tennis court, and then farther along was a small child's park complete with swings and see-saws. This was the high school, grades ninth through twelfth were hosted. In an almost depressing way, Rob dove the conversation into the topic of grades and homework.
"Ms. Reddingdale gave me an 'F' on my test. Guess why?" Rob asked, a sliver of annoyance in his voice.
"Why?" Bud replied.
"Because I gave that kid next to me, you know Tom Kirkwood? Yeah, I gave him a pencil, and she accused me of cheating." Rob scoffed. This was obviously not a happy topic, but it was a relieving one.
"Yeah, well, if I keep getting 'F's in Biology class work... my parents are going to take away the truck." Bud sounded as if he was delivering the news of a deceased relative. Rob almost forgot to breathe once when he heard this come from Bud.
"You're kidding. The truck?!" He raised his voice, questioning Bud's statement.
"Take away the keys, that's it though. I might get it copied..."
"Come on... how many 'F's are we dealing with?"
"Sixteen." Bud lowered his head.
"Sixteen, Bud? You'd have to be asleep the whole class every day since February to get sixteen!" He lowered his voice, but it only turned into a quiet hiss.
"I know! I know..." Bud sighed. "Well, what about you?"
Rob entered Bud's state of defeat as well now. "'F's. As far as the eye can see." He tried to lighten the mood, and was successful. The topic shifted, as well as their grinning expressions. As they came upon a crossroads of two streets, the school just ahead, there was disbelief and confusion as they looked up and gazed at the line of black pick-up trucks and sport utility vehilces.
((4/17/08)) They seemed like they were parked in unison, every tire was straight and every truck was an inch from the curb, no more and no less. On the hood of every single one was the U.S. Government Seal printed in the exact center. The windows were heavily tinted, and the windshield's glass resembled a fading mirror. Rob and Bud stopped, in the crossroads of Edgewood Avenue and thirty-third street west. The maple trees swayed again, their seeds slowly dancing to the tar surface of the road. Rob and Bud remained still, remaining completely motionless at the end of Edgewood. Rob sighed momentarily, shooting his statue like gaze at the parking lot to the right of the school. Every parking space was filled with a black cargo truck, the seal printed on the retractable door on the back of every one of them. Rob tapped Bud on his upper arm, pointing to the dozens of black metal giants.
"What's going on?" Bud asked, his voice low.
"This is the assembly, isn't it?" Rob was in awe, almost speechless. Rob shifted his foot, getting ready to step forward. Bud advanced faster, slowly striding left down thirty-third street, inspecting the odd vehicles. Rob walked forward, slipping in between two trucks and onto the sidewalk. He almost jumped across the threshold, scared that something might happen, or that someone would appear from somewhere. Their paranoia was only peaked when they glanced at the school; the lights were all on, but no movement occured in the classrooms. This was unusual since the faculty usually came in at around five in the morning. Bud made his way through the procession of trucks, hiking his way up the concrete flight of stairs that led to the school's terrace. Rob followed him, proceeding further and cautiously approaching the second flight of stairs that gave way to the front doors. ((5/5/08)) Five doors made up the school's main entryway, all of which were locked during school hours. A stone slab walkway branched off from the entry way, leading to the lunch room doors. Above the path and the main entry was an industrial iron canopy, the architecture plain and set mostly upon functionality and endurance over attractiveness. Bud fished around in his jeans pocket, holding them by the waist with his other hand. Grasped between his fingers was a plastic card, Bud's half smiling face plastered on the front with the words "South Haven High, CLASS OF 2012" printed below the portrait. He flipped the card to the other side, a long bar code striped the side. Rob quietly approached him from behind, looking past his arm and at the card. A small gray box mounted beside the last entry way stalked them with its small red light that shone at the top right of the box.
"You sure about that?" Rob asked calmly, Bud looked down past his left arm to see him peeking at the card.
"Why not?" Bud questioned.
"They might record that you were late. What if we get in really big trouble like last time?" Rob stood aside him now, gazing at the box. Inside, the lights beamed down on the secondary foyer that gave access to the pay phones and general shelter from the outside. The large area rugs that covered the pseudo cobblestone vinyl floors were a gaudy blue, with tiny specs of red sewn in. The entire area was empty.
Bud waved the card in front of the box and it beeped in confirmation, the red light instantly changing to an allowing green, the front door locks clicked open. Bud pulled at the door's steel handle, stepping into the school at last. Rob followed, walking in front of Bud and through the open doors at their right. This was the main foyer, decorated with trophy cases and a glass enclosed bell that was an artifact of some old historical event. Benches cuddled up to the exhibit's side, made from the same hard vinyl as the floor, area rugs only served as a short strip of carpet that was for cleaning the bottom of one's shoe, it ended almost a quarter into the elongated foyer. The left side housed a concessions stand, companion to the double oak doors next to it with a plaque above that read "Auditorium". Rob looked around and craned his neck around to catch something in the hallway that branched off from the foyer at it's right corner, a flight of stairs a few feet away from the alternate hall led into a gray, unappealing basement. Beside the unlively flight of stairs was one which ascended into the actual classrooms, the steps were wide with a handrail placed in between them. There was a sense of absence of life and yet, the lights suggested that things were normal and according.
Bud uncrumpled a small blue sheet of paper, printed on the face was a list of seven classes in small print.
"What's your first hour, man?" He seemed to ignore the fact that no one occupied the hallways((ONE)). Rob progessed forward towards the ascending stairs slowly, cocking his head to the side and haunching over a bit.
"Do you hear that?" He stopped, turning to Bud. A screech escaped from the Auditorium doors, and a second later was a horrendous sound. A cold, spine shivering sound rang out from the Auditorium, a round of bullets being unleashed behind the steel doors, they came in a continuous wave and the sound did not stop. A moment later the sound subsided, screams erupted from hundreds of people. Rob turned to Bud, there was a mutual glare between them, although Bud's eyes were fixed upon the stairs. It seemed like half of a second passed before they took action and stormed up the stairs ahead of them, their backpacks swaying from side to side and the zippers madly jingling like Sunday bells. Their steps woke the dead, stomping to the top, almost gliding on their feet down the hallway in front of them. They pulled on various classroom doors to the right, and the gymnasium's steel doors to the left. All the time cursing, their choice of entries became narrowed as the classroom doors ran dry and the last door was the Boy's Locker Room entrance, tightly locked in place. Finally, open doors gave way to a hallway, Bud's height almost corresponded with the low ceiling in this section, but the ceiling soon opened up generously as they strode along the tan and white tiled hallways. There was an oddity, though. Along these walls and sometimes stacked to the ceilings were boxes, as white as a pleasant day's cloud, their steps decreased as they looked around at them. Rob almost stopped into a slow-motion jog, examining the boxes with much interest. Bud on the other hand was pushing against glass pane doors, they led out from the hallway and into the school's sports field. Ahead, more open escape routes, yet more boxes. Their heart rates still high and their palms still clammy, Bud looked around with his mouth agape. Rob looked ahead, stairs. This was, no doubt, another opportunity to shield themselves from the presence of fire arms, he almost took two steps up at a time. Bud followed with no hesitation, they turned onto a corresponding flight of stairs, stepping over the four-foot landing and grasping a pair of door handles. They looked around, having escaped the main floor, their options widened. The right gave them the Secondary Media Center with unlocked, but the left offered the chance of a few more large art classrooms as a much more valuable refuge. They almost split themselves up, Bud going to the right, Rob to the left.
"No, no, the Media Center has scissors and all the office stationary you'd dream of!" Rob pleaded for Bud to follow.
"Art! Dude, do the words 'chisel' and 'hammer' ring any bells?" He debated. Bud dragged Rob to the Art rooms by his arm, he wrung the handles and cursed. Locked.
"Alright, smart ass, Media Center then." He turned back.
"Smart ass! Oh man, you're one to talk. I don't think a hammer can stop a gun, genius."
Bud scoffed "And your staplers will do something better?" He reached the doors, his heart fluttering with relief. Yet, as he reached, the locks within clicked, one by one. Shut out, he suppressed the loud words that tried to escape, stomping on the vinyl.
((TWO))
As they traversed, there was no choice but to go back downstairs. The third floor's doors were fastened like a bolt to steel. The open stairs that gave access were obstructed by the white boxes, and their minds seemed almost swelled with fear. Tip-toeing down the stairs they accessed the second floor by, they stopped, hearing a light clammoring down the hall. They shuffled back down to the first floor, and down a crescent-shaped hallway, it seemed like the school was constricting them like a python. The florescent lights above flickered on an off a couple of times, and the boxes had stalked them here as well. Rob stopped, halfway down the hallway, pulling Bud's arm.
"Where are we going? If we keep walking, we'll be back to the Auditorium." Rob sounded concerned, as expected.
"Uh, maybe we can leave? The exit is just around the corner." Bud's voice was shaking. There was a beeping and garbled voice; a radio system was squaking down the hall, and someone replied to the gibberish. They both pinned themselves against the boxes that still lined the hallways, hiding from anything ahead of them. Rob cursed, two shrouded figures rushed into sight. Both dressed in black military grade armor, wielding automatic rifles and a face obstructing helmet, two apparent patrol guards approached Bud and Rob, fastening their rifles on their backs and restraining the two immediately. Rob's face rammed into the wall, Bud's stomach taking the blow for himself. The patrol gave an inspection, searching for weapons and things of the like. One tilted his head to talk into a radio.
"Two kids wandering the hall, outside of H.B." A burly man's voice exited the genderless helmet, he nodded at the other patrol, they both hauled Rob and Bud off, continuing down the hallway. They rounded the hallway, approaching a stereotypical school library, computers and books coexisting in a large room just three classrooms large. The patrol swung the double sided doors open, pushing the boys into the library and shutting the door. It had changed, the library. Men and women in white lab coats with laptops and wires extending across the room looked up at them, cases carrying some sort of technology, the school's computers placed in one corner of the room, replaced by giant processors and printers. They all looked up, but only one from the countless approached them. He was a bald man, teeth somewhat uncared for, a pair of stylish glasses sat on his nose. He smiled, clasping his hands together.