School's Out Forever (The Afterblight Chronicles: The St Mark's Books)

by Scott K. Andrews

  I managed to stave off unconsciousness, and rolled the wounded woman off me. She was still alive, but she was out for the count. I decided the time for taking prisoners had long passed. I put one in her head to finish her off.

  I had just got to my feet when I heard a tremendous explosion and a sustained volley of gunfire. It sounded like it came from the front of the school.

  They’d blown the doors.

  The sounds of battle overhead grew more intense. We were being overrun. I turned and ran into one of the side chambers. I picked up a box of grenades and a kit bag. I shoved as many of the bombs inside as I could, then I nipped into the next chamber along. I strapped two machine guns across my shoulders, put another pistol in my belt, and shoved as many clips of ammunition as I could carry into my pockets. I was carrying more hardware than Rambo.

  A Rambo with bugger all muscle tone, gangly arms – one of which was useless – a mild case of acne, a broken nose, a head that felt like a punching bag and a system full of unknown drugs. Still, I had lots and lots of guns.

  “Rock n’ Roll!” I yelled, cocked my machine gun, and went running up the stairs. Straight into somebody’s fist. My nose cracked once more and I went tumbling back down the stairs to the bricks.

  “This,” I said wearily as I lay there, “is getting repetitive.”

  “Don’t worry,” said a familiar voice. “It’ll all be over soon.” Mac was standing at the top of the stairs, shaking the fingers of his good hand. At least hitting me had hurt. He looked down at me and sneered.

  I tried to bring my gun to bear but Mac was too fast for me. He was down the stairs before I could gather myself and he kicked the pistol from my grip. Then he stamped on my good hand. Even above the sound of the battle overhead, and my own shout of anger, I heard yet another bone crack.

  Didn’t feel it though. Really, really good drugs.

  There was a stutter of machine gun fire from the top of the stairs. A Blood Hunter stood there, shooting back into the corridor, guarding the cellar door. At all costs I had to stop them taking possession of the armoury. I wanted to reach for a grenade, but even if my free hand had been working and I could pull a pin I’d only succeed in blowing the entire school sky high, taking everyone with it. Not an option.

  Mac stood above me, gun pointed straight at my face.

  “I really want to shoot you in the head, Nine Lives,” he snarled. “You have no idea how much I want to shoot you in the fucking head.”

  “Be my guest.” I screwed my eyes closed, waiting for the impact.

  “But that would be no fun,” he said. “I mean, orgasms are great, but they’re so much better after a little foreplay, don’t you think?”

  “Shoot me or shag me, Mac... make your mind up.”

  He ground his foot on my hand. I could feel jagged edges of bone scraping against each other in my little finger.

  The screams and gunfire from above were intense now. I imagined the Blood Hunters pouring through the front door, slicing and shooting the boys, smearing themselves in fresh blood and bellowing their victory.

  “It’s all over, Lee. There are too many of us. I’ll be back in charge of the school within the hour. Maybe I’ll celebrate with another crucifixion. What do you think?”

  “Not very original,” I replied. “You want to supersize it. How about a flaying, perhaps? Or maybe a dismemberment? Surprise me.”

  He squatted down on top of me, and leaned forward until my broken nose was almost touching his stubby little burnt wreck of one.

  “I will, Lee. I promise you that. Now get up and dump the hardware.”

  He stood up and let me rise, keeping his gun on me as I let the weapons and ammunition drop to the floor.

  “Now we wait for the commotion to die down so I can go claim my prize,” he said.

  “What about David?” I asked. “Won’t he have something to say about you taking control?”

  “David’s my problem. Let me worry about him. You worry about me, Lee. Worry about what I’m going to do to you, Norton and that little shit Rowles, and anyone else who survives the fight. There’s gonna be a bleeding tonight.”

  There was something different about Mac, and it wasn’t just the injuries and the missing hand. He was taking real joy in the destruction happening above. He seemed more feral, less in control. His one good eye sparkled with barely concealed madness, very different from the power hungry thug I’d known before. He used to be unpredictable; now he was just plain scary.

  “Mind if I sit while we wait?”

  Mac opened his mouth to reply, but a burst of gunfire from the doorway silenced him. I saw the Blood Hunter by the door struggling with someone, heard a bone-crunching snap, and a man’s lifeless body tumbled down the stairs to land at our feet.

  “Yeah, why not,” said Mac, ignoring the corpse. “Pull up a box of grenades. Let’s bond.”

  I turned into one of the side rooms, looking for something to sit on.

  “On second thoughts,” said Mac. “Let’s not and say we did.”

  Something hit me on the back of the neck, hard, and the world went black.

  As I lost my grip on my senses the last thing I heard was Mac laughing. It was the insane cackle of a triumphant madman.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I SPLUTTERED AS the water poured down my face. Ice cold, it brought me round instantly. I was lying flat on my back on wooden boards. I wiped my eyes and looked up to see Mac standing above me. I could see cloths and pulleys suspended high above him; I was lying on the stage in the school assembly hall. I could hear lots of other people moving around, the hall sounded full.

  “Wakey, wakey, Nine Lives,” he said. “Shake a leg. Rise and shine.”

  I put my hand to the floorboards to lift myself and found that my little finger was twice its normal size. It had a sharp point of bone sticking out of it above the knuckle. The drugs were wearing off, so when I put pressure on that hand it hurt. A lot. I gasped and gritted my teeth. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much pain I was in. I suspected the drugs were still dulling a great deal of it; my broken arm still felt okay. As long as I didn’t do anything stupid, like throw a punch, I’d be fine for a while. I used my elbow to lever myself up into a sitting position.

  The hall was to my left. Along one side all the surviving boys and girls, and the men who’d been fighting with us, were lined up. They were kneeling with their hands on their heads. I scanned the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted Rowles, Norton and Mrs Atkins, all safe and sound. Green was there too. There were about thirty surviving children and ten men. Bob was not among them, but Mrs Atkins’ new man, Justin, was. Guards stood over them with guns and machetes, making sure they didn’t try anything. The wooden balcony that ringed the hall on three sides was empty. There were roughly sixty Blood Hunters in the room, each and every one of them glistening with the very freshest blood. They were all staring at the stage. At me. Nobody was speaking.

  “Show time,” said Mac, with a grin.

  I had two options. Stay silent and risk letting them know how terrified I was, or take the piss and try to appear confident.

  “Go on then,” I replied. “Do us a dance. Show us your jazz hands. Oh, sorry, forgot. Jazz hand.”

  His grin didn’t waver. “Get up.”

  As I did so I saw that David was sitting behind us on the stage, on his throne. He looked as immaculate and unruffled as ever, apart from where my knife had ripped the fabric of his suit.

  “Welcome back, Lee,” he said. “As you can see we have taken control of your school. It amused me to organise a little assembly. We might sing a few hymns later, would you like that?”

  “Fine by me, as long as we don’t have to sing Morning Has Broken. I fucking hate that song.”

  I was thinking fast, trying to work out the angles. There were guards in the wings at both sides. Behind David the stage stretched back into darkness. There was a fire exit door back there, but I’d never make it. There w
ere three entrances to the hall itself: two sets of double doors on either side of the room and a fire exit at the back. All were guarded. There was no way out of here. Whatever Mac and David had planned I was stuck with it.

  “I was going to bleed you in public,” David said when I had gained my feet. “Make an example of you to others. But Brother Sean persuaded me otherwise. He has big plans for this place. He wants me to allow him to create a religious retreat here for our brethren. New recruits will be sent here for study and contemplation. Our wounded and old can find shelter here. He would run this endeavour for me. He even wishes to create a blood bank. The children you’ve watched over would be kept under lock and key, bled regularly but kept alive; a resource for the faithful. I and my chosen acolytes would continue our travels, taking the word to the world outside. I like the idea. What do you think?”

  “Sounds lovely,” I replied enthusiastically. “You could even have a cricket team, play the locals. Hildenborough are quite good, although you may have just slaughtered their first eleven.”

  David chuckled indulgently. “I thought you’d like it. But Brother Sean has some strange ideas.” Here we go, I thought. “Even though we have taken your school by force, subdued your army and seized your weapons he feels bad for you.”

  “I’m sure his heart bleeds,” I said, looking at Mac. His face gave nothing away.

  David continued. “He has this quaint notion that he needs to prove he’s better suited to run this place than you are. I can’t imagine why.”

  “He’s always had inadequacy issues,” I said. “It all goes back to his childhood. Bed wetter, you see.”

  “I see. That explains a lot,” said David, winking at Mac.

  “I told you how it works, Lee,” said Mac. “You want to be boss you’ve got to challenge the leader and beat him. Prove you’re better. You never learned that lesson. But you will now. You’re the leader of this place now, so I challenge you.”

  I laughed incredulously. “What, to a fight? You and me? Are you joking? I’ve got a broken arm and a broken hand. I fall down if I try to run and I can’t even make a fist. What kind of victory would that be? You might as well wrestle a puppy, you fucking idiot.”

  He stepped forward and hissed furiously in my face: “Better than stabbing you in the back, you traitorous son of a bitch.”

  I turned to David and shrugged. “Your boy has issues, Mr David, sir.”

  “Can I say something?” All heads turned to the crowd of captives. It was Norton.

  “No! Shut the fuck up!” yelled Mac, incensed at being interrupted, spittle flying through the gash where half his lips used to be.

  “It’s just that I remember something you said once about delegating responsibility,” continued Norton.

  Mac turned to the crowd. “Bring that little fucker up here.”

  A Blood Hunter walked over to Norton and hauled him to his feet by his hair, then marched him up the steps onto the stage. Mac was on him instantly, holding a gun to his face. “Explain,” he growled.

  Norton flashed a nervous glance at me and made his pitch.

  “Let me see if I understand this. You want to fight Lee for control of the school. Winner takes all, yeah?”

  Mac nodded.

  “And what happens to the loser?”

  “The fight’s to the death. If he wants the school he’s got to kill me with his own bare hands. He’s learned that lesson well. Ask Heathcote.”

  Norton looked at David. “And you agree to this? If Lee wins then you leave?”

  “I’ll leave anyway,” said David. “It’s just a question of who’s in charge when I do. Whoever wins, this will be a holy place for us. But I would allow Lee to complete the ritual and take charge for me. He’d have a large group of helpers, of course” – David indicated the crowd of Blood Hunters below us – “to keep him on the path of righteousness.”

  “Okay,” said Norton, turning his attention to me. “Lee, you’re the leader round here, Mac – sorry, Brother Sean – acknowledges that, don’t you?”

  Mac nodded, suspicious.

  “Then delegate to me, Lee. Let me fight him for you. For all of us.”

  “No fucking way,” snarled Mac.

  “Hang on, you’re changing your bloody tune,” I said. “Only half an hour ago you were telling me that I had to be able to send men to fight and die for me. One of the things real leaders have to do, you said. So why can’t I delegate? Norton, you willing to die for me?”

  “Sir, yes sir!” barked Norton. He even gave a cheeky salute to go with the grin.

  “Good man,” I said cheerily. I liked this plan. Norton was a black belt. He’d kick Mac’s one-armed arse all the way to next Christmas. “So Mac, this lesson you’ve been wanting to teach me. Looks like I’ve learned it. Willing to put your money where your mouth is? Gonna take on my loyal deputy? Or are you only willing to fight if you’ve got to fight me? I mean, yeah, if I only had a broken arm we’d be evenly matched. But you broke the little finger on my other hand. So unless you’re going to give me a gun the best I can do is slap you. Not going to be a very satisfying fight, is it? Your victory won’t be worth shit. But beat Norton, well, that’d be something. You’d have earned it then. That’s what you said, isn’t it... it’s all about earning it?”

  Silence fell. Everyone in the room was transfixed, waiting to see what Mac would do. If he went for this then we had a chance

  I walked up to Mac, who still stood with his gun aimed at Norton. I whispered in his ear.

  “All this time you’ve been pointing out to me the ways in which I’m a failure. The things I can’t do that a leader needs to. Not forgetting the rules of challenge and succession you keep banging on about. You want to do this right, yeah? According to the rules? Then here’s your chance. Follow your own logic, Mac. Fight the man I delegate to represent me. Prove you’re better than the best I can field.”

  “And what if I delegate too? What if I ask Gareth to fight for me?” He indicated one of David’s giant guards.

  “Brother Sean, I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” said David, with steel in his voice. “I do the delegating, not you. I’m indulging your whim. Take care that my indulgence doesn’t run out. The young man’s logic is sound. I suggest you accept the challenge. Otherwise I may decide you’re not the man you profess to be. I might decide you’re cattle.”

  Mac looked rattled. But he had no option now. He’d engineered this situation, he’d have to see it through.

  “Fine,” he snarled as he let the gun fall from his grip, and charged.

  Before Norton could react Mac took him in the midriff and barrelled forward, propelling him off the stage. They sailed through the air, crashing five feet to the floor of the main hall. Norton fell flat on his back, with all Mac’s weight on top of him. There was a dreadful crack of bone as his spine hit the hard wood floor, then a hollow thump as his skull bounced. Lying on top of Norton, Mac reached his one good arm up, grabbed Norton’s hair and slammed the back of his head onto the floor. Once, twice, three times. Then he leaned back, folded his arm and brought the sharp end of his elbow smashing down with all his might on Norton’s throat. There was an awful soft crunch as his windpipe collapsed.

  The whole fight had lasted about five seconds.

  Mac rolled off and got to his feet. Norton lay there, clutching at his collapsed throat, gasping for air. The assembled Blood Hunters roared in triumph.

  It’s a measure of how used to this kind of thing I’d become that while everyone was watching my best friend die, I took the chance to get to Mac’s discarded gun. I dived forward, landing on my broken arm, reaching for the gun with my semi-good hand. Yep, the drugs were wearing off. That hurt.

  Gareth the guard stepped forward and kicked me under the chin before I could reach the weapon. I was flung backwards off the stage. I fell hard and lay on the hall floor, winded, next to Norton. We looked into each other’s eyes. I could see all the fear and panic and horror in his, as th
ey widened, dilated, and died. The crowd kept cheering.

  Mac’s leering zombie face appeared over mine.

  “Well done,” he said, shouting over the din. “One more corpse for the cause. Hope you’re proud.”

  At that moment I finally accepted it. We were finished. We’d lost. I had no clever plan to fall back on, no trap to spring, no argument to put forward. I felt the darkest, blackest despair. I was beyond weeping or begging for mercy. There were no more sarcastic comebacks or flippant putdowns. My friends were dead or captured. I was a broken wreck. Everything I’d tried to achieve had been destroyed. I’d failed my friends, my father, myself. All I had to look forward to was a creatively stage-managed death. And I was okay with that. It’d be kind of a relief.

  I got my breath back and slowly rose to my feet. Mac faced me across Norton’s cooling body, one mad eye gleaming with triumph. I spat in it. He just laughed.

  I looked over his shoulder at the kneeling captives. Rowles’ face a mask of cold fury, Green weeping, Mrs Atkins staring blankly into space. I wanted to tell them how sorry I was, but it wouldn’t have meant a damn.

  “Loser,” said Mac, taunting me. I didn’t reply.

  David called for silence and the noise died away. The cult leader rose to his feet and addressed us.

  “Brother Sean has brought great credit to our crusade. He led us out of our hermitage and set us on the true path. And now, brothers and sisters, he has brought us to a place of refuge and sanctuary, where the chosen can abide in peace through the Tribulation. This place, once a school, will become a beacon of hope for all the world. Children will study here under our guidance, learning of the one true faith. Here we shall train acolytes and pilgrims, preachers and reapers. The good word shall spill from this hallowed place like a flood and it shall sweep away all the cattle from our lands and make us safe. Hallelujah!”

  The Blood Hunters howled their hallelujahs in response. David pointed at me. “Bring that child to me.” I didn’t wait to be grabbed and herded. I walked to the steps and mounted the stage again.