Crawlers

8:32pm

Jasmine had to crane over to see past Hugo, but a glance at the screen showing the passage outside was all it took. Last time she'd seen it, it had been empty. Now it was full. While they'd been talking, a large group of adults had massed outside. Their eyes were open and staring. They advanced towards the door with an eerie sense of purpose, all at the same time: the fact that the image came without sound made it look like some nightmarish game of grandmother's footsteps. 

The sudden silence in the room was broken by a low scratching sound. 

'The door,' said Robert. 'There's someone at the door!' 

The doorknob was turning. 

'Use the lockers!' yelled Jasmine. 

Ben was already moving. He had pulled one set of lockers away from the wall, and with Hugo's help he was heaving them round to make a barricade. Not a moment too soon: the door was just opening as the lockers were shoved into place, slamming it shut. 

A thunderous pounding of fists and feet now came from behind the door and wall. Jasmine stared at the screen. Out there, a crowd of formerly polite, cultured adults were now frenziedly trying to punch and shove and kick their way in. A scrum of them had formed at the door, battering away at it. In response - with a ringing crash - Hugo and Ben shored up their first barricade with a second set of lockers. At this, as if on command, the crowd outside suddenly stopped their onslaught. Their hands fell to their sides, and they stood there, frozen. 

Silence. 

'What are they doing?' whispered Josh. 

Nobody answered. As suddenly as it had started, the attack had apparently ceased. On the screen the group of adults outside remained immobile. But then a familiar figure pushed her way through to the front. 

It was Ms Gresham. 

'Children?' she said. 'Can you hear me, children?' 

They all looked at each other. 

'I know you're listening,' said Ms Gresham. 'Open this door.' 

Jasmine watched her. On the monitor, viewed from the ceiling camera, the creature on the back of Ms Gresham's neck looked like a shadow. The back of Jasmine's own neck prickled as she looked from the screen to the pale, panicked faces of the rest of the group. 

'You don't understand what's happening here,' said Ms Gresham, her voice sounding perfectly normal. 'That's all it is: a misunderstanding. We can sort everything out, get everyone taken care of. But you have to open this door.' 

'What are we going to do?' Lauren murmured. 

'Nothing,' Ben hissed. 'You saw her in the lift. We can't trust her.' 

'But,' said Lauren, 'she's our teacher.' 

Jasmine's mouth was dry. 

'Jasmine?' said Ms Gresham, startling her. 'You're more sensible than the others. Listen to me. Tell everyone to stop this foolishness and open this door right now. I'm waiting.' 

Ben looked at Jasmine and shook his head. 

Jasmine gave him a nod back. Her being 'sensible' was precisely why there was no way she would do what Ms Gresham said - not any more. 

But she was thinking: Ms Gresham might be talking, but the way the other adults were still just standing out there had reminded Jasmine of something. It took her a whole, slow second to work out what, but then she got it: the Barbican staff. 

The people standing outside weren't trying to get in any more; they were blocking the way out. 

On the screen, Ms Gresham sighed and crossed her arms. 'You're all being very silly,' she said. 'It hurts for a moment, it's true. But then... she makes everything better.' She paused then added: 'You'll find out.'