Apocalypse Atlanta (10 page)

Sweeping her gaze across the haphazard scattering of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cruisers in the parking lot, Jessica saw more people milling about them.  There were firemen and paramedics digging in the vehicles for supplies and gear, she saw several police men sitting in cruisers with injuries of their own, and several more officers pulling things out of the trunks of their cars.

One officer turned from his vehicle with the long, black shape of a shotgun in his hands.  As she watched numbly, the officer jacked the slide on the foregrip and hurried towards the school buildings.  She couldn’t imagine what was going on that would bring so many firemen and paramedics so soon, that needed a shotgun.  At a school.  It was absurd.

Biting her lip she looked in the direction the armed officer was going.  It was hard to see clearly past all the rescue personnel and vehicles, she could only catch bits and pieces of what was happening.  There seemed to be a lot of fights happening, knots of rescue personnel struggling with students like she’d seen at the elementary school.  And there seemed to be a lot more emergency responders who were injured.

But unlike down the street, here the conflict was not restricted to the entrance.  It had spilled out of the school and was happening outside.  And here, the students were not aged five to eleven.  These were children as old as seventeen and eighteen, many of them well into, or done with, their full adult growth.  Jessica knew from her own son, and some of his friends on the football team, that some of the ‘children’ were taller and stronger than some adult men.

Jessica closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself one brief moment where she just breathed, gathering her willpower and cramming the fear further down within herself.  Then she opened her eyes and turned to Candice, who was staring with wide, unblinking eyes at the scene.

“Candice.” Jessica said, too focused to be proud of how calm she made her voice sound.  Her daughter didn’t respond, and Jessica squeezed and shook her hand sharply.  “Candice!”

The girl’s head jerked, then turned and looked up at her mother.  The ten-year-old’s face was pale, and Jessica could tell she was close to, or already in, some stage of shock.  She had to hope Candice could hold it together long enough for . . . whatever was about to happen to be finished.

“Sweetheart, listen to me.  No matter what happens, you hold my hand and don’t let go.  You stay with me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Candice said after a moment, her voice faint.

“Yes what?” Jessica pressed, needing to be as certain as she could that Candice was tracking and had heard and understood.  “What are you going to do?”

“Hold your hand.” Candice repeated.

“And?” Jessica prompted.

“Stay with you.”

Jessica smiled, and though she tried, she really tried, to make it reassuring, she knew it probably came out as more of a grimace.  “That’s my brave girl.  Okay, come on.”

She started for the group of people on the edge of the parking lot, feeling Candice staying close at her side.  She swept her gaze across the crowd for any familiar faces as she approached  Jessica was hoping to see one of the teachers she knew, but honestly she would settle for any familiar face, including any friends of Joey or Sandra.

Her eyes lit upon Mrs. Jordan, who she remembered from Sandra’s class schedule as her English teacher.  Joey had been in her class when he was in ninth grade.

“Mrs. Jordan!” she called, changing direction to make for the teacher.  She called again, then a third time, and finally the teacher’s head came around.  Her eyes, her face, showed she was nervous, and she seemed to be shaking, twitching, as she finally focused on Jessica and realized she was the one calling to her.

“Mrs. Jordan.” Jessica said as she got close enough to talk without having to yell.  “I’m Jessica Talbot, Sandra and Joey’s mother.  What’s going on?  Where are my kids?”

The teacher blinked, and Jessica saw she was holding her left elbow, though she didn’t see any blood.  She waited, then tried again.  “Mrs. Jordan, hello?”

“Yes?” the other woman said quietly, and Jessica had to suppress a frown.

“What’s happening?”

“The . . . students.” Mrs. Jordan said, still in that quiet voice.  She sounded dazed, in shock, and Jessica had to steel herself to patience as she waited for the words to come out in ones and twos.  “Started . . . acting strangely . . . biting people . . . hurting . . . wouldn’t listen . . .”

“Have you seen Sandra?” Jessica asked when the teacher’s voice trailed off.  She tried to think back to the class schedule.  “She’s in your second period, English.”

“Don’t . . .” Mrs. Jordan was staring blankly at her, and Jessica realized the teacher wasn’t going to be much help.

She turned away and started circling the group.  Her eyes lit on a very pretty girl with long blonde hair, and she surged forward, jerking at Candice’s arm.  “Alicia!  Alicia!”

The girl turned, and she saw Jessica.  Her face was stained with tears, and Jessica saw blood on the sleeve of her dress, centered on a torn flap of cloth just above her elbow.  Alicia hurried forward and flung herself at Jessica, who reached to hug her son’s girlfriend with one arm, the other still holding Candice’s hand.

“Mrs. Talbot!” Alicia said, sounding half hysterical.  Jessica could feel the girl squeezing on her, hard, as she buried her head in Jessica’s shoulder.  “Oh my God!”

“Alicia.” Jessica said, patting her on the back.  “Alicia, I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh my God!” the girl repeated.  “It’s horrible.”

“Alicia!” Jessica said sharply, summoning her Mom voice.  “Talk to me.  What’s happening?”

“People are acting strange.” Alicia said without releasing Jessica, which she was fine with for the moment since the girl had her head right next to Jessica’s.  It made it easier to hear her through the noise in the parking lot.

“Strange how?”

“They’re biting people.” Alicia said, and Jessica could feel her shaking.  “It started in fourth period.  A few kids just suddenly got up and started attacking.  While that was going on, a few more started doing the same thing.  The teacher, the rest of us, we were all yelling.  Some of the guys were trying to break it up, then some of them were bit.

“Then some of them started biting.  Then we heard more yelling.  When I went out in the hall, there were people running everywhere, and it was happening there too.  It’s crazy!”

Jessica bit her lip for a moment.  “Alicia, have you seen Joey?  Or Sandra?”

“Oh my God!” Alicia cried, bursting into tears.  “Joey!”

Jessica resisted an overwhelming urge to shake the girl, or slap her, and settled for patting her on the back again.  She forced her voice into a soothing tone.  “Alicia, where’s Joey?”

“I don’t know!  Inside I guess.  He bit me!” Alicia said, suddenly stepping back as Jessica’s insides twisted with a surge of fear.  Jessica looked past the fresh tears rolling down the girl’s face, further disrupting her makeup, and at her arm as Alicia raised it for inspection.

“He bit me.” she repeated, her fingers holding the rent in her sleeve open.  Jessica saw teeth marks in the skin, jagged and gaping where Alicia’s flesh had been torn.

“Where did he bite you?” Jessica asked.

“Here!” Alicia half shouted, holding her arm up higher.

Jessica resisted, again, the urge to slap Alicia, though it was difficult.  “Where in the school did he bite you?” she persisted.

“In the east hallway.” Alicia sobbed.  “I saw him and ran over, and he just grabbed me and bit me.  He didn’t say anything, just leaned down and . . .” she shook her head, shuddering.

Jessica opened her mouth, but before she could say anything further, she heard a loud crack, then another.  Gunshots, her mind supplied, and she whirled toward the school, not even noticing as her sudden turn caused Alicia to stagger back.

More shots sounded, along with a surge in screams and shouts, but emergency vehicles were blocking her view of the entrance.  She saw heads turning in that direction all over the parking lot, including rescuers who were struggling with students.  She saw a few police draw their guns and sprint in that direction.

“Candice, come on.” Jessica said, stepping away from Alicia and tugging on her daughter’s hand.  She hurried across the parking lot, threading around ambulances and trucks, as more guns were fired.  At each shot, she flinched, and felt the numbness within grow.

All she could think of was her kids; Joey and Sandra might be in there, and people were shooting.  By the time she broke past the last vehicle and reached the front walk of the school, she was running, dragging Candice alongside her with an iron grip.  Her daughter didn’t say a word, merely stumbled along next to her.

When Jessica finally got a clear view of the front doors of the high school, she stopped in shock, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.  Nearly everyone there had blood on them, and more was visible on the concrete, on the grass, on the doors.  There was a knot of students in the pair of double doors that comprised the school’s front entrance, all of them trying to get out.  None of them were screaming, or yelling, or showing any emotion at all.  Every child’s face that she could see looked blank and empty.

That would have been strange enough, with everything that was happening, but what made it worse was when they didn’t react, at all, when they were shot.  A pair of police, a male and female officer, were standing almost side by side about ten feet away from the doors, their pistols out and pointing at the students.  They were shooting into the crowd of students, with two more police behind them pointing guns at fire and medical personnel, presumably to hold everyone else back and give their fellows room to aim at and shoot the kids.

Jessica saw half a dozen students were already on the ground, in the doorways and in front of the doors, but they were still moving.  As she watched, more were staggering and falling as bullets slammed into them, knocking them down.  The police were shooting low, shooting them in the legs, she saw.  None of the wounded students seemed to even notice their injuries, apart from the physical effects of losing use of a limb.

They were trying to crawl forward, even as other students walked past and on top of them.  Some of those trying to walk were falling as their legs and feet caught or turned on the obstacles formed by their classmates.  Those that merely fell, without being shot, were trying to get to their feet.  And some of those were being knocked aside as more students walked past and into them, knocking them down again.

As bad as that was, as unreal as it seemed, Jessica saw blood on the faces of nearly every kid trying to get out of the school.  Not smears of blood on the cheeks and forehead, like someone who’d been splattered, or who’d wiped a wounded arm or shoulder across their face.

No, the blood was on, in, their mouths.  She remembered the elementary school, where that little girl had been chewing on a fireman’s arm, and what Alicia had just told her.  She couldn’t help the dazed, cold feeling that paralyzed her as she stared at the front of the high school.

Candice made a whimpering sound, and Jessica looked down as she suddenly remembered her youngest daughter.  The girl’s face was bone white, and her lower lip was trembling.  More shots were fired, and Candice flinched violently as if they were hitting her.  Her eyes, wider than they’d been even over the past few minutes, more than they’d been back at the elementary school, were fixed on what was happening at the high school entrance.

That jolted Jessica into action, her mother’s instincts taking over and giving her a purpose.  She reached and grabbed, turning and pulling Candice to face her, putting her back to the scene.  Her daughter buried her head in Jessica’s stomach, and she wrapped her free arm around her mother.  Her other hand clung to Jessica’s like a claw, leaving Jessica with only one hand to stroke through Candice’s hair.  Jessica could feel the girl shaking, crying, and Jessica hugged her tighter as she looked back up.

The shouting was coming from the officers who were pointing their weapons at the rescuers, and from those who were being threatened.  She focused on the voices, trying to pick them out through the continued sound of shots, and the background of idling engines and the other people in the school parking lot.

Even as people shouted and screamed at them, the police were shouting back at the same time as they exchanged terse comments with the officers who’d joined them and were standing in shock or confusion as they saw what was being done.

“They’re just kids!  What are you doing?  Stop, stop, they’re sick, they need help!”  The rescuers were shouting.

“Stand back!  Back off!  Keep back!  They’re attacking people!  Leg wounds will heal!  We’re not shooting to kill!  The tasers aren’t working!  They’re hurting people!” was mostly what the police were shouting.

Jessica stood there, stroking Candice’s hair almost absently, feeling like she was in the headlights of an oncoming car, as the confrontation played out and the shooting continued.  There were well over a dozen students down at the doors now, maybe closer to two dozen, but the police officers seemed to be partially correct.

Whatever was going on, the tasers were having no effect; she’d seen that herself back at the elementary school.  And the students who’d been shot were not crying out in pain, or even stopping.  They continued to try to leave the school, to close on the people gathered beyond the doors, reaching to drag themselves forward with slow, jerky action like they’d forgotten how to move properly.