Playing with Fire

Chapter 2 - Part 1

8:00 AM

Fleiden High was not conducting a fire drill.

Gritty, grey smoke enveloped the west wing of the school, soot flying and dissolving into the air. The light blue sky was in deep contrast with the grey-black hue of the smoke, the stark and appalling scene growing the whole gravity of the situation. The sun was still in the east, not a ray cast on the west. It was, almost, as if the sun overshadowed the chaos to come by.

Scores of students marched in lines, pooling out onto the pavement from every stairwell far from the fire. The mix of navy and white bodies moved forward irregularly, the crowd pulsing and moving slowly, like clusters of stars against the evening sky. Scattered vests of fluorescent yellow dotted this crowd, worn by teachers leading lines into the football pitch.

Students chattered, giggled, relishing the fact that there was no class for now. Some didn't even look at the smoke rising above, towering high and close. Regardless, the freedom was of little comfort. The fake grass floor set out for the students was enveloped by the harsh sunlight, the sun blazing hard. The teenagers were engulfed in sweat and pungent odor, almost missing the conformed, air-conditioned environment of the school. This could only be said for the children wearing their formals, even worse for the navy blazers worn on this fateful day. The PE students were luckier, their breathable, loose clothing alleviating some of the discomfort.

The teachers stood in front of their forms, their blank faces hiding the fear they may or may not have. Their fluorescent vests glinted under the sunlight, a sickly yellow that stirred up even more discomfort among the students. Their sweating, pale hands held the green signs high up, their arms trembling from the strain.

A solitary man entered the pitch, his crisp, navy suit sharply outlining him against the bright sunlight. His shining, silver hair was combed neat onto one side, and his presence gathered command more than attention. He surveyed the signs held up by the staff, rows of green, glossy rectangles glinting under the sun.

"Year 7s" he muttered under his breath. "Year 8s"

Elementary's done.

He stopped abruptly at the two red rectangles, bright and disturbing. Two teachers from...

"Year 12," he rasped, taking in a deep sigh. He shook his head, walking past the red signs, moving forward the check the final year and the other staff.

Later. Just later.

He began to walk faster, the stark signs flying away from his field of vision. The fake grass quivered in the wake of his fast, frail paces. His pale grey eyes were trained on the tech staff before him, fiddling with their mobiles, sweat glistening on their hands and screens. The first thing to check on, immediately-

"Sir. Sir!" a woman called.

The principal turned around, harsh words about to escape from his shaky breath.

"Sir?" the woman asked quietly, gaze transfixed on his pale face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah- Yes, I'm fine," he said, trying to pick out the face from his jumbled memory. "What is it, Vivia?"

"Sir..." she repeated, biting her lip in stress. "Three students are missing from two of our classes."

Why is she-

Oh, she's the head of the year, isn't she?

"They haven't arrived yet. It's been 10 minutes since the alarm went off. It has been playing for five minutes since the fire and they aren't here yet." she continued, gripping her shirt. "I-I'm scared. What should we do?"