Chapter Two: Doubt and Silence

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Drenching rain poured over the city through the night and into the morning. Small streams of runoff water flowed through the parking lot. Fog covered the tops of the trees and overshadowed most of the light. As Marcus trudged through the rain, he thought, Even if he wanted to, there is no way to fly a drone in this weather. The wind whipped his jacket flaps over his shoulders and he yanked them back in place. He ran the rest of the way to the door, and shook the water droplets in his hair and on his clothes off him. He spotted Emma at her locker and came up beside her. "There is nothing we can do today." He unzipped his bag partially, "I brought my camera just in case, though."

"I know, this rain stinks. At least he can't fly the drone in this torrential rain. We are safe, if there was any danger to begin with."

He eyed her suspiciously, "You sound as if you believe his side of the story."

"Maybe we over-thought this. He could really have been just doing a survey. What if it's just our imagination and nothing is going to happen?" She sighed, hauling her back onto her shoulder. "We can talk more at lunch, but I am starting to doubt the seriousness of this whole thing." She turned and climbed up the stairs to her class.

Well, even if she doesn't believe that something is going on here, I still do. I won't let anything happen to this school. His mind turned to daydreaming again. If I helped catch a criminal trying to attack a school, it could jumpstart my investigative career later in life. This is perfect! He walked up the stairs after her, his steps light and on his face a smile. His first class passed by in what felt like a few seconds.

Before his second period class, he noticed a man weed-eating around the flag pole near the entrance to the school. A ball cap and large, sound-reducing headphones covered his face, but he looked familiar to Marcus. The beard triggered the memory. This is the same guy who flew the drone! He is still tallying the students, just from a closer perspective. What is he going to do? Nervously, Marcus skirted around the front glass doors as soon as the man turned his back. He headed back to class and motioned to Emma.

"That man we saw yesterday is back."

"It barely stopped raining, he can't be back."

"Not with the drone," his voice grew quieter, "He is trimming the grass near the flagpole."

"So he is a handyman. No harm in that." Her skepticism sounded slightly sarcastic. "You daydream way too much."

"I'm not imagining that I keep seeing him; he is out there." He strained his voice to keep it at a whisper.

"So what if he is? He is working, not flying a drone. We are safe." Emma walked back to her seat as the bell rang and the teacher called the class to quiet down.

So what? We are all in danger. He is still counting us. Marcus refused to let her see how her words had upset him. Doubts entered his mind. What if she was right? He pushed the thoughts out of his head. He had to be right; what other explanation was there?


After the bell rang, Marcus left the classroom, his mind wandering. He knew assuredly that something was going to happen. Why else would that man be constantly showing up? He asked his third period teacher to be excused and walked down the hallways, past the lockers and to the office. He ducked under the office window and walked up to the Administrator's office. He knocked and waited to be let in.

"Is everything alright, Marcus?"

"No, that man is back."

The administrator looked comical. "It has been raining incessantly since school began an has only just now stopped. He couldn't possibly be flying the drone again." He began to push Marcus towards to door. "Now, you need to get back to class and stop worrying about noth-" He was stopped by Marcus's staunch stance.

"Not with the drone." Marcus pleaded, digging his feet into the ground. I am going to fight for this school, even if they don't believe me. When the administrator paused, Marcus continued. "He was around the front entrance, cutting the grass around the flagpole."

"I don't know what you are talking about. Nobody was working out there today, even after the rain stopped, it is too soggy to do anything."

But he was there! Marcus wanted to scream, but he held his tongue back. "You have to believe me, he was watching the doors. He didn't have his notebook, but I could tell. He was still counting us."

"I will look into it." He dismissed Marcus, but his voice held no reason to believe him. "Go back to class."

Why does nobody believe me? Marcus thought to himself. We could all be in serious danger and they treat me like a daydreaming five year-old. He passed near the front doors once again, but the man was gone. Now they really wouldn't believe him. The man seemed to be like a ghost, only Marcus could see his ghastly shadow over the school. Marcus pushed the morbid thoughts from his mind. His school had security. Sure it didn't have a police officer, but it had a volunteer ex-military man guarding the entrance on school mornings. The doors were locked and there was an alarm system. Surely they didn't need more security than that? He tried to feel secure, but his doubts nagged at him. He refused to dwell on them and hurried back to his class. He slipped in the class room while the teacher's back was turned and everyone else paid him little attention.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

"-the retained object is diagrammed in the same way as the direct object, but..." The teachers voice droned on. Emma drowned it out. English was a simple subject and ultimately was recycled information passed down year after year. The textbook manufacturers were so bored that they couldn't even come up with a different example sentence. She could have had them memorized since seventh grade, at least, if she paid attention. Somehow without much effort, she managed to ace English. It just came easy to her. The teacher's pause brought her out of her thoughts. 

The English teacher, Ms. Brown, picked up her phone and curiously read the text. The students, excited to end the boring lesson, perked up at the extending silence. Her face turned from curiosity to fear in a split second. Her students began to cast worried glances to each other.

"Students-" Her voice cracked, barely audible. She cleared her throat and tried again, trying to sound confidant. "Students, stand and walk quietly out of this room. Head toward the lunchroom in the basement." When whispers began among the students, she sighed and asked, "For once, please keep silent on your way."

Marcus didn't have to ask what the text was. Something was happening. He saw the fear in his classmates eyes. This wasn't a drill. This was more serious than even a real fire drill. Uncertainty filled their eyes, and for once not a sound was made as they made their way down two sets of stairs and into the lunchroom. There were only two entrances, the door to the long basement hallway, the other leading outside the building, hidden behind the hill on which the flagpole stood, and a brick corner. The door from the outside was being barricaded with the extra desks kept in there for storage. Marcus realized that the entire school was gathering in the lunchroom. Teachers were turning the tables on their sides, forming a type of wall between the students and the two doors. The male teachers stood near each door, none 'carrying', but all wielding something from the kitchen to defend themselves. The female teachers hid behind the tables with the students. From kindergarten to the senior class, the students crowded behind those tables, not knowing what to fear.

Marcus waited for hi eyes to adjust when they turned off the lights in the large room.

The wait begins. Silence was their only hope.


Hallways of TerrorOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora