[copyright AubreyParsons ©2018]

Lockdown | O N E

ALYSSA

      I SIGHED AS I watched a pencil fly from one side of the room to the other, lightly tapping the shoulder of an unsuspecting girl. The bleach-blonde sitting beside her snickered and covered her mouth, playfully mouthing 'stop' to the boy who'd thrown it.

      I looked a few seats behind the boy who'd thrown the pencil, focusing in on the dark haired kid picking at the scabs on the inner side of his elbow. He'd pulled his hood up over his head at some point, chest moving at a noticeably quicker pace than the students around him. He looked pale—sickly, even. If my memory stood correctly, I was pretty sure his name was Reece. He'd made me uneasy since we shared our first class in freshmen year, but I tried not to judge a book by it's cover.

      I sat in the middle of the room towards the back, absentmindedly shading in every other line on my notebook paper from red-line to red-line. It didn't matter where I looked, it was obvious no one was paying a bit of attention to the teacher at the front of the class. It was well known that the last fifteen minutes of fourth period were spent staring at the clock, playing on phones, and talking to the people next to you as you waited for the bell to ring.

      The loud click from the intercom pulled me from my thoughts. Unlike the usual delay before a student started speaking, the assistant principal's voice burst through the speakers. "Attention staff and students," he started. There was a slight edge to his voice, as if he was faking calm. My pulse picked up. "There will be an immediate lockdown of the entire building."

      Excited chatter filled the room as students theorized between each other over whether it was a real emergency or a drill. When I lifted my gaze to the teacher in the front, I was surprised to see her staring at her phone with a worried expression. Wordlessly, she quickly made her way to the classroom door, shut and locked it, and flipped off the lights. She pressed a finger to her lips as a signal for our silence, ushering us to the back of the room and away from the door. The quiet droned on for what felt like hours, leaving most students to share occasional whispers about how this had to be a drill, but the reassurance didn't last long. As cellphones buzzed and dinged simultaneously, I slid my own out of my pocket and stared in confusion at the screen.

      "It's an Amber Alert." I spun around in surprise to see the hooded boy staring down at his phone with a grimace after speaking lowly. I had the feeling everyone was too surprised by the first words of the year to come out of his mouth to say what we were all thinking. We all got the alert, dipshit.

      It was obvious the sudden attention on him made him uncomfortable, so I spoke up to ease the pressure. "Fourteen year old girl kidnapped. She was snatched out of the middle of the street by a man in a blue hoodie, believed to be around six feet and average weight."

      Just as I'd finished my sentence, another amber alert appeared on the screen as several phones vibrated and pinged. My eyes widened as I skimmed the information about the next victim: age, description, all information about the kidnapping.

      "Guys." My head shot up at the worried but familiar voice of the blonde who'd been previously flirting with the kid throwing pencils. She was visibly shaking, and nerves tied my stomach in knots. Her eyes didn't stray from her phone screen as she spoke. "I just got a text from a friend downstairs. Somebody's trying to break into the school."

      "That's not the only thing," the hooded boy added quietly. The boy who'd been throwing pencils wrapped a protective arm around the blonde's waist. "I just checked the News. There's been several deaths ranging from car accidents, murders, people jumping off roofs . . . It's complete chaos out there."

      Amber alerts, murders, lockdowns. My stomach churned violently.

      The streets weren't the only place chaos was brewing. Every student confined in this classroom started to panic as they each searched up their own information about what was happening outside, some even going as far as trying to open the door and escape. Our panic stricken teacher rushed around trying to calm everyone down, but the visible fear on her face just made everything worse.

      "Mom?" came the voice of a girl curled up in the corner of the room, a phone pressed to her ear as a hand covered her other one. She choked on a sob. "Mom, I'm scared."

      Before she had the chance to say anything else, a loud crash came from what sounded like the bottom floor of the building. Gun shots rained throughout the halls as the teacher whispered, "Fuck this," and unlocked the door. Startled students rushed out into the halls, down the stairs, and through the double doors in a hurry. I followed swiftly behind, but made the mistake of pausing just in front of the doors to glance back at the chaos.

      Multiple police officers fired their weapons at the bloodied man, but he refused to fall. He trudged on, arms swinging around him and mouth foaming as he ran towards the students. His skin was pale in contrast to his bloodshot, impossibly dilated eyes as he made his way closer and closer to the door I stood in front of.

      My heart pounded against my ribs as I spun on my heel and sprinted past several of the other students. My legs pushed on and on until they couldn't anymore, but I didn't bother looking back. Fear gripped me tight and refused to let me turn and see if the man—thing was still trailing me or the others.

      Without a second thought, I headed straight to the only place I felt safe: home. My mom would know what to do. She always did.

      I dug my keys from my pocket and tried to ignore the unsteady rhythm beating against my ribs. I didn't look back as I swung the door opened and slammed it shut behind me. My footsteps echoed against the tile as I stalked towards the living room, but stopped as soon as I noticed the TV was on and there was no sign of my mom. She was a bit of an electricity nut; if you used any type of electrical appliance and didn't turn it off or unplug it the moment you walked away, your ass was grass.

      Fighting off the uneasy feeling in my gut, I started for the kitchen. The sound of the kitchen sink running sent relief flooding through my system, and the sight of my mom standing in front of it made everything a thousand times better. We would be fine. No matter what was happening outside, we would be together, and if the last three years taught me anything, it's that Mom and I could recover from anything as long as we were side-by-side. "Did you see what's been happening on the news?"

      She didn't answer. In fact, she didn't move or show anything to suggest she'd heard me. I stepped forward, wondering if she had her earbuds in while washing dishes again. It wouldn't be the first time.

      I leaned a little to the side to catch a glimpse of her face, but her brown hair cascaded down and kept it out of view. I followed the trail of her long hair to her arms. They weren't moving. I gently lifted my hand to touch her shoulder. "Mom?"

      She spun around with a growl, mouth frothing and eyes bloodshot and dilated. I stumbled back and tripped over my footing, sprawling across the cold tile. I stared up with a start before crawling back as quickly as possible as my mom—or, what used to be my mom—advanced. My stomach rose to my throat as I clambered to my feet and shot forward, taking a sharp left towards the stairs and trying my best not to trip at the speed I ran. I slammed my bedroom door behind me the moment I crossed the threshold and didn't hesitate to drag my vanity dresser in front of it. Not a second later, the sound of pounding and vicious growling resonated around the room as she tried to get in.

      Probably to kill me.

      Pushing the thought aside, I rushed to my closet and slammed open the door, digging around the miscellaneous in the floor for the backpack I used to take whenever Dad took us camping. I dumped all its contents on my bed and searched my room for anything I might need—my flashlight, phone charger, hairbrush and deodorant, a few random clothing items, the army knife Dad gave me, and a hoodie that would keep me warm if I had to sleep outside. I couldn't stay here, no matter how much it killed me to leave my mom. Especially like this.

      A quick glance in my vanity mirror had me reeling back in surprise. My light brown hair was a matted mess on my head, my bangs sticking out in every direction, and my blue eyes were wide and wild like a deer caught in a set of headlights. I shook my head and looked away. Focus.

      Having deemed my luggage acceptable, I opened my bedroom window and glanced down at the door of distance, which was certainly a mistake. That drop looked a lot farther from up here than it did from my front yard. Please don't break a leg and this all be for nothing.

      I sucked in a deep breath and swung my right leg over the ledge. Pausing to glance back at the door and processing the fact that this might be the last time I ever see my mom again, I clenched my eyes shut, swung my other leg over the side, and jumped.