#55

I want to take this time to point out that what follows is a work of fiction, and contains trigger warnings regarding those troubled by depictions of school-based violence. No offense is intended towards victims or associates of victims who have been affected by in-school attacks. My apologies.

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Mina woke up. There was nothing but shattered rubble all around. “Where am I...?” she asked, but then she remembered. She was in the remnants of her school, far from home, in England.

Something...something happened. Something terrible. Involving Aurel...?

She turned and saw one of her professors; at least, what was left of him. His bloody severed head had been mounted on his desk. She suppressed a scream and jumped backwards. This only knocked over another desk, where another pulped student—Jenny something—had been placed.

She blinked and stepped away from at all, taking a minute in the corner to regain herself.

The classroom was dark, illuminated only by a thin red light coming from the glass window in the door. It was from a small fire, slowly burning itself out. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but she hoped it had been long enough for her attackers to leave. If they had an intention to leave.

She didn't know how she had survived. She remembered, though, how it had gone down. A group of blue and red-garbed soldiers had come in to the dorms, barking vague orders, which no one heard or understood. Several students, including her, had taken refuge in the classroom, but the troopers followed them. The professor tried to stop them; he lost his head. Then the blue ones opened fire with those rifles they had—she dove under her desk—and knew no more.

She touched her head. There was matted blood in her hair, hardened crimson tangled with the brown. She must have hit her head, and in their rush the soldiers assumed that the blow had been fatal. That could mean they were careless; or in a hurry.

She looked over the classroom. There was nothing here; nothing but the fallen bodies.

Moving quickly, she then went to the door. The metal knob was still warm, but then, the entire building was uncomfortably warm. She recognized that orangish glow now, and realized that the intruders must have tried to burn down the building. By some miracle, that hadn't come to pass. That could mean good news for her—and for any other survivors.

As she slipped through the door, she passed. Aurel was dead. He must be. He had discovered the thing at the bottom of the cave, that had allowed the army to come out. From him, they learned that the school was nearby, and had decided to attack. The cave was close enough so that if an army came out, the students would see and report their position. The brutality here was too intense for them to have spared her friend.

What about Jacob? No, Jacob had to be safe. He was still in Minnesota, and they had no reason to go there. Even if they did, the Army might be able to prevent a full scale invasion. She only hoped she could find another computer; her Skype was acting up, as was the phone, so she was cut off from him. She had to tell him that she was alright; he would be worrying.

Of course, she was worrying, too.

The hallway wasn't much better. She tried not to look at anything at all, but the everything that was this hall was available on all senses. She started running, uncaring of the fact that there could still be enemies about.

The only fortunate thing about all of this was that most of the people were face down.

When she opened her eyes after her long run, she had ended up in the cafeteria. She didn't know why; she just naturally gravitated there. Fewer corpses in here; really one, in fact (like that was a genuine bright side) and all around were overturned bins of silverware and shattered plates and trays. Some had blood on them, but she had noticed awhile back, as casually as she could, that blood was pretty much everywhere now.

She instead focused on the shiny surface of a cruel-looking kitchen knife, locking off more unsavory parts of her brain, and her perceptions.

She felt a strange echo of something as she picked up two of the kitchen knives. They wouldn't be much good against people with guns, but maybe she could throw them and get a good hit. Or trick them into close combat fighting. Then she could take them down, with blind luck alone; something she now seemed to have in spades.

There was a pause. She seemed to sense that this sort of pondering, concerning knives such as these, had happened before. And not that long ago, either.

She decided then that, since this place was relatively clear, it would make a good spot to rest. She ducked behind a table, isolating herself from the single corpse, and attempted to take a breather.

That was when one of the red soldiers walked in.