School_s Out ac-3

by Scott Andrews

  He was impressive when he got going.

  "I don't know what you and your boy scouts have planned, but I can assure you it's utterly futile," he ranted. "You have no forces to call upon. We have the school surrounded and all your boys and their weapons are contained inside. They can't attack us for the same reason we can't attack them – they'd be cut down before they reached the walls. And even if it does come to a fight, which I think unlikely, my men outnumber you two to one and are not afraid to die. You should see them fight. It's a glorious thing. They fling themselves into danger without a second thought. They are magnificent!"

  David's messianic fervour was impressive but I wasn't completely convinced by it. I thought about the two men I'd interrogated on the river bank the day before. Magnificent wasn't the word I'd use to describe them; they were just scared idiots happy to have a tribe to belong to. Obviously there would be a hard core of men, like the one I'd killed in Hildenborough, who'd fight to the last, but I was sure that if David were taken out of the equation then the majority of Blood Hunters would fall apart. I hoped so, anyway. My whole plan relied upon it.

  "You're… you're right," I said, trying not to overplay it. "I know we don't stand a chance. I was bluffing. There's no way we can fight you, not like this."

  "Don't believe a word he says, David," said a familiar voice behind me. "He's got a plan, all right."

  I turned to face the new arrival. The guys I'd interrogated at the pillbox had told me Mac was here, so I'd expected to come face to face with him again. But nothing could have prepared me for how he looked. I recoiled involuntarily at the sight of him.

  His hair was all burnt away, his bald head blackened and scarred. The left side of his face was also a mass of scar tissue, and it sagged downwards, indicating that he had no muscle control there. The left side of his lips had been burnt away too, leaving half his teeth exposed and giving him a permanent sneer of loathing and contempt. His left ear was a ragged tatter and his left eye socket gaped, black and empty. His left arm ended abruptly just above what used to be his elbow, but the right hand held a machine gun with measured confidence. He looked like some kind of zombie.

  But it wasn't the sight of Mac that froze my blood and stopped my heart.

  Because standing next to him was Matron.

  And her face and hair were smeared with human blood.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "Look," I said, "It's a pretty simple plan."

  "Too simple if you ask me," said Bob.

  "Can your man shoot as well as you say… yes or no?" I asked.

  "He's bloody brilliant," he replied.

  "And does he have a problem with shooting people?"

  "No," he replied darkly.

  "Then I reckon it's our best shot. Um, sorry. Not intended."

  "But are you sure it'll work?" asked Rowles.

  "The Blood Hunters are a cult of personality. It stands to reason that if we eliminate their leader then they won't know what to do. There's every chance they may just wander off."

  "I can't believe this is our best plan. Hope they wander off. Jesus," muttered Norton.

  "You said he never comes out of the tent, so how are you going to get him out in the open?" asked Bob.

  "I'll improvise. Just make sure your man's ready. The second David steps outside, I want him dead. Then while they're running around flapping their hands and wailing you lot come out onto the road and line up, weapons raised. But don't fire unless you have to. And Norton, you lead the boys out of the school and do the same. With their leader dead, and us sandwiching them between two rows of guns and making a show of force, I think there's the possibility of a surrender."

  "And Mac?" said Norton. "We don't expect him to just walk away, do we?"

  "No. I don't really know what he's going to do. He's the wild card."

  Matron held a gun on me as Mac and David walked to one side and talked quietly, glancing over at me every now and then. I stayed seated. I looked up at Matron, trying to get some indication that she was under duress. Nothing.

  Eventually David returned to the table. Mac stood behind him, his twisted mouth lolling into a dangerous smile. His face was as hard to read as David's, probably because half of it wasn't really there. But he was up to something, and I didn't like it.

  "At the urgings of Brother Sean, I have reconsidered your request to join us," said David.

  What the fuck?

  "Oh. Um… thanks."

  "If you wish to retire to prepare yourself, Sister Jane will sit vigil with you in seclusion until the appointed hour."

  "Great, thank you," I said, confused and suspicious. "I promise you won't regret this."

  And so Matron and I found ourselves sitting on the grass in a corner of the tent, shielded from view by an improvised partition made of blankets draped over wooden stands.

  I had so much I wanted to say. Jane Crowther was funny and vivacious; she stood up for herself and didn't take any shit from anyone. Could this blank-eyed acolyte really be her?

  "I'm sorry," I said eventually.

  She looked up at me. It was hard to tell, but I thought she looked confused.

  "If I'd just got rid of Mac earlier then I could have brought you back to the school sooner. They'd never have found you."

  "Thank heaven they did," she replied. "For I am saved!"

  Please, God, no. I felt tears starting to well up.

  "Nah," she said eventually. "Only kidding."

  I had never been so relieved in my life. Except for that time when I didn't die on the scaffold. On reflection, that probably trumps it. But I was pretty bloody relieved. I went to hug her but she pushed me away.

  "Better not. I kind of stink. The blood, y'know," she whispered, careful that we shouldn't be overheard by anyone lurking on the other side of the blanket.

  "Yeah, about that. I meant to ask, why exactly are you covered in blood, carrying a gun and hanging out with psychotic religious cannibals?

  "I'm a loyal disciple now, Lee. Have to be."

  "Why?"

  "They have the girls. There are about a hundred people travelling with David now, and many of them have medical conditions that need to be managed. They need a doctor, so they need me alive. But I made it clear when they took me that if they harmed any of my girls I'd kill myself. The girls stay alive and untouched as long as I co-operate. They keep them in a caravan but they park it about a mile away from the main tent each night, just so I'm not tempted to try and find them."

  "But you're not a doctor."

  "You don't know everything about me, Lee," she snapped impatiently. I'd touched a nerve. "I went to medical school for three years."

  "So why…"

  She interrupted me. "Not important right now. That was another life."

  I looked at her blood-caked face.

  "You had to convert?"

  "Yes. It was a condition."

  "So you performed the ritual?"

  She nodded. "They chose a Blood Hunter as the victim. Made it a little bit easier. I couldn't have done it to a prisoner. God knows what would have happened to us then, but I couldn't have done it. Even so, it was…" she broke off, unable to continue.

  "So the girls are safe and you're the cult doctor, yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "I don't really want to ask this, but Mac…?"

  "Yes, I patched him up. Not the prettiest job, and he died on the table twice, but I managed it in the end. I think it was sheer force of will that kept him alive. He's very, very angry at you, Lee."

  "No shit, Sherlock. But why the fuck would you help him?"

  "It's my job. I save people. It's what I do. I don't… I try not to kill."

  "But after what he did, how could you?"

  "How could I not?" she replied furiously.

  I didn't know what to say to that. "And he's David's right-hand man?"

  She groaned. "Yes. After I patched him up he asked to convert and David let him. Said he had brought a message from God and deserved to b
e saved. They chose a child for his initiation. A young girl, no more than fifteen. He didn't hesitate for a second. And then he started doing it again."

  "Doing what?"

  "Worming his way in. Showing off, seizing the initiative, getting things done. He brought back more prisoners in the first month than they'd had in the previous three. Their strategist died in the attack on Hildenborough. Mac sussed that there was a vacancy, and filled it. David relies on him a lot now."

  "He should watch his back then. He'll be crucified before he knows it."

  "Not that easy. Mac doesn't have the same power base here. He's not been able to gather a little gang of followers. Everyone's first loyalty is to David. It was Mac who persuaded David to come here, and he devised the plan of attack. I think he stumbled across the, let's call them officers for want of a better word, a few weeks back, and they hatched the plan together. Lure you away, attack while you're off-site. He was incandescent when the attack on the school failed. He didn't anticipate such an organised resistance. And when he found the bodies of the boys in the truck yesterday evening, my God. Did you do that?"

  I explained what had happened to us at the farm and subsequently. As I told her about killing Wolf-Barry she did the strangest thing. She reached out and stroked my hair.

  "You poor boy," she said, her voice full of compassion and sorrow.

  I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

  "It was necessary," I said awkwardly. "I'm just doing what has to be done."

  She nodded, wordlessly. But she left her hand resting on mine.

  "So what's with persuading David to let me convert?" I asked.

  "I have no idea. Whatever he's got planned it can't be good."

  "But the ritual takes place outside, yes?"

  "Normally."

  "Good. When we get outside things are going to kick off. With any luck there won't be a proper fire-fight, but if the shooting starts I need you to run, as fast as you can, across the road. There's a stile in the hedgerow a few metres to the left of the school gate. They'll be waiting for you and they'll give you covering fire if need be."

  She nodded.

  At that moment a blanket was flung aside and Mac leered down at us.

  "How's the reunion going?" he croaked.

  "Sorry?" I replied. "Couldn't quite catch that. Could you enunciate a little better, please."

  He looked down at me, furious. It's hard to talk when your lips have been partially burnt away.

  I stood up and held out my hand.

  "Hey Mac, you look great. No hard feelings, yeah?" I glanced down and pretended to be surprised that there was no hand for me to shake. "Oh. Sorry." Mock embarrassed.

  "Come with me," he said, with what looked like an attempt at a smile.

  A crowd had gathered outside the tent, and Matron and I were led through them to a clear space in the centre where David was standing. This crowd was no good at all. The sniper wouldn't be able to get a good shot at David in amongst all these people. I was thinking as fast as I could but I had nothing. I might have to go through with this foul ritual after all.

  "Have you selected a victim for today, David?" asked Mac. And something in his tone of voice made me even more uneasy.

  "I have decided to take your advice, Brother Sean," David replied.

  The crowd parted and two men walked forwards, herding a boy between them. It was Heathcote. So now I knew what had happened to the boy manning the GPMG at the school gates. His face was streaked with tears and snot, and he was snivelling. He looked utterly petrified. He saw me and a moment of hope flashed across his face, but he swiftly realised what was going on, and he let out a low moan of animal terror. He started muttering: "Oh God, oh God, oh God no, please God no."

  His escorts walked him into the centre of the space and forced him onto his knees. Once he was kneeling I could see that his hands were tied behind his back. One man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, exposing the soft flesh of his throat. Heathcote fell silent, too terrified to even whimper. He knew he was about to die. As he looked over at me I saw the mingled pleading and fear in his eyes and I felt like I wanted to be sick.

  I was so transfixed that I didn't even notice Mac walk up beside me. I only registered his presence when he whispered in my ear.

  "You weren't there when we taught this bitch a lesson. You weren't there when we executed the men from Hildenborough. I made you my second-in-command but you never really earned it, did you? You never got your hands wet. Or your dick, for that matter."

  I clenched my fists. Mustn't let him provoke me. I had to think of a way out of this.

  "It was too easy for you," he continued. "I wonder, would you have shot one of the prisoners that day if you'd been there?"

  I turned to face him, defiant and angry.

  "No, I wouldn't have. I'm not a murderer."

  He chuckled. "You keep saying that, Lee. Who are you trying to convince? I should warn you, I'm a hard sell. I'm the one you betrayed, shot in cold blood and left to die, remember. Bates might disagree with you too. And I imagine you killed at least one of my officers yesterday. So what's the difference between a killer and a murderer, hmm? Coz you're definitely a killer."

  I just stared into his eye.

  "No answer to that? Well, let's put it to the test. You have a choice. If you want to live you have to kill Heathcote. Take a knife, slit his throat, watch him die. And then you have to drink his blood. You want to be in my gang you have to earn it this time. If you refuse I'll put a bullet in both your kneecaps and hang you upside down to bleed."

  David was smiling indulgently at the pair of us. He couldn't hear what Mac was hissing in my ear, but he was allowing his favourite acolyte a little fun.

  "And what's this lesson supposed to teach me?" I asked.

  "That you aren't capable of doing what needs to be done," replied Mac. "If you kill Heathcote and join us, then I won't be able to touch you. You'll be protected as one of the brethren. Then you can plot and scheme to your heart's content. Try and bring him down the way you did me. You may even pull it off. God knows you're a devious little fuck. There's a chance that you might be able to save the school. And Matron, and the girls. But only if you stay alive. And you only stay alive if you kill Heathcote. Sacrifice him to save the others, or sacrifice yourself to save your conscience. Your choice."

  He pressed a hunting knife into my hand.

  "You've cheated your way into leadership without ever having to make the tough choices. This is what leadership is, Lee: the willingness to send men to their deaths when necessary, the ability to kill without compunction or hesitation when you need to. Show me what you're made of."

  He stepped back, his hand resting on the butt of his holstered pistol.

  The knife felt heavy as lead in my hand. I stared at Heathcote's wide, terrified eyes as he shook his head imperceptibly, in denial of what was happening. I looked around me, at a sea of blood-smeared faces, expectant and excited. And David, amused but curious at my hesitation.

  "Come, come young man," he said briskly. "If you wish to join us you know what you must do. Bleed the cattle. Earn your salvation. Make yourself safe."

  I thought of the two men at the pillbox who I had spared. If I'd killed them and taken care of the river defences, we'd have been able to evacuate the school unseen by the forces at the gate.

  I thought of the officers I had released. If I hadn't let them go then Ben Woodhams, that young woman, Russell and Jones would all still be alive.

  I thought of Mac. If I'd killed him before he'd seized power then Matron would have been spared her ordeal, and countless lives would have been saved.

  If I had done what was necessary, so many people need not have died.

  Every time I'd spared a life I'd made things worse. Mac was right. And Heathcote was a dead man anyway.

  So I stepped forward, bent over the quivering boy, leant into him, whispered 'I'm so sorry' into his ear, and slit his throat open. All the while, looking straight
into Mac's face. Even half ravaged as it was, his look of triumph was unmistakeable. It was the most terrible thing I have ever seen.

  He mimed applause as the crowd began shouting hallelujahs.

  As I stood up I saw Matron standing in the crowd. She was crying. Her tears ran red as they streamed down her cheeks. It was only then that I realised I was crying too.

  The two men held Heathcote as he writhed and kicked his way to death, collecting the blood that flowed from his throat in an ordinary breakfast bowl. When his feeble struggles finally ceased, and the bowl was brimming with fresh blood, David stepped forward, lifted the bowl and brought it to me. He raised it to my lips. My nostrils filled with the metallic tang of slaughter.

  "Drink of the blood of the lamb, and be transformed to your very soul," he said.

  He didn't realise that I was transformed already.

  I took two short, deep breaths, and leaned forward to take a sip.

  As I did so I gripped the knife tightly, and brought it up as hard as I could into David's chest, aiming for his heart.

  The blade bounced off the bullet proof vest that David was wearing beneath his jacket, and fell to the grass.

  And all hell broke loose.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I didn't expect to survive. If it had been a straight choice – kill Heathcote or die – I like to think I would have chosen death.

  Thing is, I had a knife, but David was ten feet away. If I moved towards him I'd be shot down before I got halfway. The only way to kill him was to get him to come to me. And the only way to do that was to kill Heathcote and continue with the ritual. I knew, when I slit that poor boy's throat, that his death was buying me the chance to kill David. That was the deal. I also expected to be shot in the head a second after the knife slid into the bastard's heart. I was fine with that.

  But he didn't die. Nor did I. And so I have to live with the knowledge that I killed a friend in cold blood. The other nightmares keep me awake, but Heatcote's hopeless pleadings whisper in my ears every waking second.