THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL by Drew Fuller
December 1, 2009 Short stories Tags: Drew Fuller
The sky was a mottled gray-blue, growing little brighter with the coming dawn. There were still patches of snow in the corners of the courtyard of Barbour Middle School when Brian pulled into his usual parking space in the third row. He eased the old brown Volvo station wagon into Park, grabbing his dented brushed stainless steel mug and his worn leather messenger bag after the engine settled down and stopped. As Brian walked across the wet parking lot, he looked up at the old, two story brick relic of the late 1950’s. The first white “r” and the dot above the “i” had peeled away from the sign on the front of the building, showing a rusted casing beneath. The concrete gutter above the roof over the entry walkway had crumbled a little more over the winter, and snow-melt was dripping from the roof onto the middle of the pitted sidewalk. Despite the superficial flaws, Brian loved the old school. He just hated having to do all of the dirty work.
He’d been the assistant principal for three years, and in that time his neatly coiffed short black hair had turned to a sharp salt and pepper crew cut that was easy for him to maintain. With two kids still at home and his young wife on permanent disability, having lost her left arm to an infection of the bone, he didn’t have the luxury to worry much about his looks. He was thin, pale, and nondescript. Most school days, he wore off-branded khakis, a long-sleeved button down solid-colored shirt and a flat, solid colored tie, usually a primary color. He didn’t stand out. He was good humored and level-headed, well-liked by both his staff of teachers and the students of the middle school. In his tenure, he hadn’t had to discipline a student for anything more serious than swearing at a custodian. Student behavior was excellent at Barbour Middle School and not out of a fear of draconian retribution. There was a positive atmosphere there, and it was, Brian hoped, partly his doing. He disciplined students fairly, listening to all sides of a story, sometimes to the neglect of his other duties, until he was satisfied that he could make a balanced decision that he and all parties could live with.
The door stood open between his office and the main office, as he stood on a chair pounding a nail into the drywall to hang a painting that his oldest daughter had just made for his thirty-third birthday. He could hear the teachers trickling through the main office to pick through their mailboxes and say hello to the secretaries before heading to individual classrooms or to before-school meetings. Usually, the seventh grade met together every Thursday morning, but the team leaders had canceled this week’s meeting, and Brian was glad for a little unexpected free time. There was an unusual amount of chatter in the office this morning, but he tried to ignore it stepping lightly down from the tan plastic chair. As he hung and straightened the neatly framed watercolor, the two-way radio on his desk squawked and a frightened, panicked voice sounded from it.
“Mr. Grey! Mr. Grey! This is Luanne Sheppard”, the stammering, breathless voice announced. Brian knew her well and was a little annoyed at the interruption to his reverie. She had driven the #3 route for the middle school since before he’d worked there, and she was a little bit excitable. She was often the last bus to arrive, because she reacted rather poorly to student misbehavior.
“Go ahead, Ms. Sheppard. Is everything all right?”
“Mr. Grey, we have a serious problem, and I’m on my way in now”, she said with a little more control in her voice
Brian looked at the clock on the wall. It was 7:40, and school didn’t start until 8:30. Her route usually finished right in front of the building at around twenty-past, that is if there were no disturbances. If anything, he expected her to be a little late, and he’d never taken a call from her this early. It was alarming, but more so because of the fear in the woman’s voice was something that he never heard. With his thumb he depressed the ‘talk’ button on the side of the radio and spoke.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Sheppard? Can you tell me what the situation is?”, he asked.
“You need to call the police! Call Officer Chiotti! Tell him that they need to pick up Gerry Barker. He hurt seven kids at one of the bus stops.” Her voice crackled through the radio, high and full of interference. In the background, Brian could hear the cries and excited talk of the children on the bus, the cacophony nearly drowning out the voice of the frightened driver.
Calmly, he addressed the situation. In his mind, it was already laid out neatly in front of him, and he just needed to fill in the gaps in intelligence before he snapped into action. “Christ!†he thought. “I hope that he hasn’t shot them.”
Brian knew Gerry well. He was a seventh-grader who was troubled and often truant. He’d transferred to Barbour from another middle school across town, because he had been diagnosed with an emotional disorder, and the only district program was housed there. Gerry had not fit in very well in the school, and his behavioral incidents had been escalating in frequency and severity in recent weeks. He spent almost the whole day in his special education teacher’s room, having not earned enough privileges to work his way into more general education classes. He was anti-social and mean-tempered, and Brian was not surprised at all by this news. He would, however, be surprised at what he heard next.
“Ms. Sheppard, are the children OK? What kinds of injuries do they have?”
“They’re bitten. They’re all bitten up bad.” Her voice broke, she started crying. “They were running down the sidewalk when I saw them. I stopped and got them all into the bus. These kids aren’t even on my route. They said they were waiting at another stop when that Barker kid came up to them. He didn’t even say anything. He just attacked them. When others tried to help, he bit them, too. These kids are really hurt!” Her sobbing now was making it difficult to understand her.
“Luanne! How far out are you? I’m calling 911.”
“I’m a few blocks from the school, now. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes”, she gurgled into the radio.
Several people were now gathered in the main office, having heard the exchange through Brian’s open door. He nodded and the lead secretary, a thin silver-haired woman named Joy jumped into action, getting on her own radio to call other bus routes. Brian got on the PA system and announced that the school would be on lock-down, and as students arrived, they would need to go to their homerooms where they would stay until they were notified from the office that things were clear. Teachers started to gather by the front doors of the school, preparing to direct the students as they arrived.
Brian returned to his desk, picked up the receiver, and dialed 9-1-1. Immediately, he got a busy signal. Surprised, he dialed again, and again the other end was busy, so he shouted to Joy to start trying to dial out for the paramedics. He picked up the hand-held two-way and switched it over to Officer Frank Chiotti’s frequency. Frank picked up almost immediately, and after Brian filled him in on the situation, he set out to patrol the neighborhood looking for Gerry.
With the building locked down and the situation, more or less under control, Brian walked down the now empty main hallway and headed for the gymnasium. The school nurse, Mary, a sharp, athletic brunette in her mid 40’s was there with the students who had been injured. They had arrived in a frantic state, five boys and two girls, and had been taken to the gym to keep other children away from them until help arrived. The boys were bitten on their arms and backs and one of the girls had a deep bite on her pale cheek. They had been at school for twenty minutes or so, but there was still no way to get through to the paramedics. In fact, most outside lines were jammed, and only the internal extensions throughout the district were working. Brian had called Frank on the 2 way to see if he could contact some help directly but he had received no answer, and he was getting seriously worried.
When he entered the gym, Brian was at first taken aback by the calm. Mary had dressed all of the children’s wounds, and they were lying, side by side on folded gray blankets, doubled over to cushion against the hard, newly finished gymnasium floor. Some were softly crying, some were just lying there.
“Mr. Grey. Where’s the ambulance?†one of the girls asked. “Yeah, isn’t it coming?†the other interjected.
“They’ll be on their way”, was Brian’s non-answer. He hated saying it, but it was all that he could say right now. Mary looked at him gravely, and he motioned for them to step into the hallway.
“They look better. It looks like you’ve stopped the bleeding. What’s happening?”
“What’s happening?†she asked, exasperated. “You tell me.  First, where are the fucking paramedics?”
“We can’t call out. Something is wrong with the phone system. I’ve also tried my cell, and I keep getting the same message, that all circuits are busy. Joy is trying non-stop right now. I’m also trying to get back in touch with Frank on the radio. All three of the middle schools are on lock down right now, and Sylvia over at Tesla Middle School says that teachers are confiscating cell phones, because they can’t stop the students from texting.”
She looked at him and cocked her head questioningly.
“I’m not gonna’ do that”, he replied before she could ask. “There’s some kind of emergency going on all over, and we’re setting up a TV in the library right now.”
“Brian”, she said and paused seeming to take it all in. “Brian, Jeff Augustine in there was bitten in the arm and had his radial artery severed.”
He looked at her and furrowed his brow, not comprehending.
“The bleeding, it shouldn’t have just stopped with gauze and pressure. I mean all of the kids’ wounds have stopped bleeding, and now they’re all just in some kind of shock. We need to get the paramedics here now!”
With his door closed, Brian opened his browser window to a 404 message. The servers were down so the wireless network wasn’t putting out a signal. The front door intercom was ringing as he stepped out of his office. Parents who had begun to show up were gathering angrily outside the main door demanding to be buzzed in. With the building secured, they couldn’t be let in until the police arrived and assessed the situation.
“Where are the goddamned policeâ€, Brian exclaimed in frustration.
The radio was a mess of confused chatter between the schools. With the phones out and the internet down, they were an island. Brian went to the external intercom and spoke through the phone, trying to reassure the parents, begging them to wait in their cars. The response was abrupt. With a few kicks, the glass in the front door shattered and a large, enraged father was working his way through the opening.
Brian rushed out of the office and turned to his right and headed to the front doors to meet the parents and assert what little authority he still had. He could see them, the father now through the doors, cut and bleeding from his hands, brushing broken safety glass from his coat and the rest of the parents trying to get through the kicked-in section of the door. Before they reached each other, Mary rounded the corner from the gym hallway and ran between the groups like hell was at her heels. She didn’t stop to look at anyone or even acknowledge their presence. She just ran, whimpering, turned a corner, and was out of sight. From the hallway, the moan came, low, guttural, and dry. Brian stopped where he was, as did the parents, and they turned to face their children.
wow, great story. i want to get more. really good though
Comment by Dragead on December 1, 2009 @ 2:33 pm
Awesome story. It gave me goose bumps. I would love to see this one continued.
Comment by Karline on December 1, 2009 @ 2:48 pm
Good writing!!!! MORE!!!!
Comment by RedneckZombieHunter on December 1, 2009 @ 4:06 pm
More! Yes, more! Really good. Really.
Comment by polkazombamamba on December 1, 2009 @ 5:18 pm
A great ‘first contact’ story. It read like the first chapter of a novel so can we have some more please?
Comment by Pete Bevan on December 1, 2009 @ 5:31 pm
hell yeah, zombie kids are the creepiest, i might have nightmares.
Comment by greg on December 1, 2009 @ 8:38 pm
This is CHILLING. Oh, man. I have goose-chills right now. It’s awesome as a stand-alone story, though I’d like to see more if you get the urge.
Fantastic work!
Comment by Christine on December 1, 2009 @ 9:00 pm
that was AWESOME!!! very scary….
Comment by Taylor on December 1, 2009 @ 10:12 pm
I can see it , feel it and smell it. Do not let this one die…
Comment by MadMac on December 2, 2009 @ 9:09 am
Leave a comment I have a question for the author:Do you work at a school? Because I do work at a middle school and you really had some insights. If not, the story was well researched. I work in an older building(70’s) and the morning routine of getting to school, team meetings, sped classes, gen ed classes, etc…It felt like I was coming to work. I love this story and have often day dreamed about what it would be like at my school on “that day”. (Yeah I read a story a day on my off period. HA HA)
Comment by Chris on December 2, 2009 @ 10:08 am
@Chris
Thanks to all for the great feedback. I am a middle school teacher, and I teach in a school that was built in the 60’s. I love this genre, and I have always wanted to combine it with work.
Comment by Drew Fuller on December 2, 2009 @ 11:12 am
Very creepy and spooky Drew. Great work!
Comment by jrderego on December 2, 2009 @ 6:52 pm
Very good! Please continue the story. I’ve got to know what happens next.
Comment by Cherry Darling on December 2, 2009 @ 8:36 pm
That was great, sure hope there is more!
Comment by Doc on December 2, 2009 @ 8:59 pm
Great story, hope you continue it
Comment by Micah V on December 2, 2009 @ 9:21 pm
Chris said what I wanted to say. I’m a Chris, by the way, too.
I am also a teacher at a junior high school, in Japan. I was a high school teacher in Toledo, Ohio, before moving here. I knew within the first few lines or so, that you had to be a teacher. It read SO realistically.
Thanks for the great story.
I’m working on an outbreak novel, set at a high school here. No one has really done zombies well, here in Japan (I often wonder if it has anything to do with the cultural differences in funeral practices… most Japanese are cremated because of space constrictions).
I did have one suggestion about your intro. You have a little backstory in the beginning, about Brian getting to school and his employment there. I thought the story would have been even more frightening if you had started with the distress call from the bus driver… you could sprinkle the backstory in as you went along. Just a suggestion.
Again, thanks for the great read. Give us some more!
Comment by Citizen Zombie on December 3, 2009 @ 3:17 am
I Loved the story and I am “dying” for more.
Comment by Lisa on December 5, 2009 @ 11:05 am
This was a great start to a wonderful story! Please continue I can’t wait to see what happens to the parents and Brian!!
Comment by Jen on December 6, 2009 @ 2:14 pm
Loved it great story, very entertaining.I’d love to read more.
Comment by hijinxjeep on December 6, 2009 @ 11:33 pm
MORE.
Comment by Sam Fisher on December 7, 2009 @ 2:13 pm
More
Comment by jfbranson on December 9, 2009 @ 3:27 am
WOW! What a great opening for your story!! I can’t wait to read more of it.
Comment by John M. on December 10, 2009 @ 3:31 pm
you should defentaly write more
it was a very good story and we would all like to read a sequel to it
Comment by fallenone on December 11, 2009 @ 4:17 pm
Don’t know what else to say that hasn’t been said. Loved it, keep writing if the mood hits you.
Comment by Terry Schultz on December 12, 2009 @ 8:04 pm
More BRAINS…oh, right. The story takes place in a school!
Jokes aside, I really like this story, and would love to see a longer tale come from it.
Several authors here are doing that, and the few unpublished stories of mine are the same. You write well, so GIVE ME MORE!
please…?
Comment by cdugger on December 13, 2009 @ 5:09 pm
Leave a comment
Really scary, please continue, I think we all want more.
Comment by Zoe on December 15, 2009 @ 10:50 am
Wait so who were the zombies The kids or the parents
Comment by JohnnyGee on December 18, 2009 @ 9:48 pm
great stuff man. chilling and realistic. you have to write more.
Comment by Joel on December 25, 2009 @ 11:11 pm
Very scary, very interesting, very good.
I’d like to read more so keep it going, your story is one of the best stories I’ve read on the site so far. =)
Comment by Brandon on February 17, 2010 @ 12:20 pm
I enjoyed it, except that it ended where it did. Please continue.
Comment by brycepunk on March 23, 2010 @ 12:20 pm