Everett: Revised edition

Chapter 20

I walked out of the Schoolhouse. Parts of the grass glistened like they had a dew that turned red with the falling sun. My face went limp with a mix of shock and disgust.

It was a disheartening sight. Teachers lumped together groups of students, and with light, comforting hands laid on the students' shoulders, guided them into the building. The students were quiet, yet they did not hold themselves rigidly as they normally would. Instead, they were limply bent over and meek. They all looked like little children new to the world and confused.

The students were all led along the left wall to the Schoolhouse. The Shadow Council soldiers kept their guns loosely aimed in the direction of the cluster of students and a thin line of teachers. Slowly the students streamed into the now open front door.

In a stupor, I walked upstream of the somber faces. I moved across the battlefield like a ghostly fog; faces of students, and faces of soldiers at work, drifted by. Remarkably I came to stand to the right of Greg as he oversaw the transition of prisoners.

"Everett?" I looked up at Greg calling my name. "Are you alright?"

I peeped out, "yeah". At that point, I looked to the trampled ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of pale white skin. My eyes shifted to the left. When my eyes could go no further, I slowly tilted my head to take my sight up the line of white. It was a human hand lying upturned upon the ground still attached to its owner. And with a slight rise of my head, I followed the hand up an arm and to a vacant face. A soldier rolled the body over and a glint of a badge caught my eye.

"Everett, we could use some help organizing the injured," Greg said. It was going to be a big task. I knew they needed everyone to help and I did not want to be the weak link. With that, I began to walk out of the fog of my mind.

"Right," I replied.

I moved across the battlefield. A white tent was being set up in the top right corner of the SchoolYard. Students were flowing into the entrance but were averting their eyes from the makeshift medical tent and the bleeding wounded.

"Take this." A bottle of foul-smelling liquid was handed to me. I put my nose a few inches above the opening of the bottle and sniffed. The smell burned the hairs in my nose. I scrunched up the skin on the bridge of my nose and corked the bottle. "Here are a few clothes too. Pour a little salve onto a rag and press it on any cuts or small wounds. I'll handle the major injuries." With no other explanation, the school nurse went back to her duty.

I knelt down next to the nearest wounded person. He gripped himself in agony as he let out a groan. Much of his body was bruised and scratched. I held a discolored white cloth in my hand and tipped the bottle of liquid onto it. The liquid made a delicate glopping noise as it came out of the bottle's mouth. The patient glared up at me as I went to apply the substance to his skin. His expression was quite cold, and as I was about to touch his skin, I registered who he was. He was one of the history teachers at the school. I believe he taught modern history.

"Well, go ahead," he said harshly. "I'm ready."

Ready? I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I went ahead and applied the rag to the first wound. As soon as the cloth met his skin, he winced. My eyebrows raised in confusion, but I kept going, applying salve to each wound I could see. Each time, he winced less and less unless I hit what seemed to be a particularly delicate spot.

This would be a good place for an important conversation or for info to be given if needed.

I was finishing up with his wounds when two Shadow Council soldiers came over to us. One was holding a clipboard and one held his hands behind his back. The latter one asked, "what is this patient's name?"

His name? I wasn't sure. I hadn't asked. In fact, I hadn't talked to him at all.

"Mr. McGinnus," the man said, responding for himself.

The first Shadow Council soldier wrote the name down on his clipboard. Then the second soldier asked, "are you done treating him?"

"I think so," I responded.

"Good. We'll take him from here."

A few soldiers I hadn't noticed came forward to help the teacher up. Without saying another word, they escorted him out of the tent.

From there I moved onto the next patient. Looking around at the wounded, I could see that it was a clear mix of our soldiers and of SchoolYard staff. I didn't discriminate who I would treat next. Instead, I moved on to whoever was closest at hand and would move down the line in that manner.

I knelt next to another wounded soldier when Greg ran up to the medical tent and grabbed my shoulder, turning me around. Greg had a panicked look in his eyes, "Where is the Head Admin?" Greg asked. 

Which character(s) would you like to see make a return? It can be anyone from beginning to end. 

Have you enjoyed the story so far? 

Would you recommend this story to a friend? If you say it on the bookshelf, would you consider purchasing it? 

What do you think happened to the Head Admin? Let me know what you think will happen next!