New School

Chapter 13: Unlucky for Some

I wasn't asleep. April fucking Fools.

All three of us cowered into the corner as a silhouette appeared in the dimly lit end of the room. He began approaching us and seemed to be carrying something. A crowbar. Emerging from the shadows and into light, a bright, pale face appeared, belonging to a tall, thin and bony figure. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, and was shivering as he approached us. I recognised his face, however. He was in my class. I thought his name was George or something, but I wasn't too sure. He saw my face and mouthed the words:

You Murderer.

Suddenly, he aimlessly flung the crowbar he was clutching onto in our direction, but it was heading dangerously for Nadira's head. Conor reacted quick, however, and jumped in front of Nadira to take the hit. Conor collapsed to the floor, clutching onto his stomach where the crowbar had struck him. Immediately after reopening her eyes, Nadira rushed over to attend to Conor and try to help him. I wanted to as well, but I had to deal with George. (or whatever his name was)

Lunging for the crowbar, I threatened to throw it back at him, but he got behind a crate before I got the chance. Running across the room to try and lure him away from Conor, he slowly followed me. He seemed to be limping, but I wasn't sure if he had that injury earlier or not. Ignoring that, I used the crowbar to break open some of the crates in the room. Most of them were stuffed with fresh, neatly folded clothes, but one crate in the centre of the room was slightly smaller than the rest. Looking around the room to look for George, I spotted him slowly limping towards me from the other side of the room. I had time on my hands, thanks to his injury, and breaking open the crate, I could see what it held. Inside, on the floor, was a single briefcase. I noticed George getting closer, so I picked it up and ran. I heard quick, heavy breathing, and turning around to check on Nadira and Conor, I saw that Nadira was crying. My heart skipped a beat as I worried for the worst, but George was my main priority.

Sliding into a corner, I examined the briefcase closely. There was a four number lock on the front of it, and, glancing up to see where George was, I spotted a number on the corner crate.
7
Figuring that this was a number in the code, I sprinted to the other corners, memorising the numbers as I went.
4
0
8
While attempting different combinations of those numbers, George gradually made his way towards me. I felt like I was in a horror movie, but this was real life. The case clicked open when I entered 8407, and inside was the perfect tool for the situation. I read the engravement etched on the inside of the briefcase:
For agents on Her Majesty's Secret Service aboard ferries in the Irish Sea.

Removing the pistol from the briefcase, I attached the silencer that was included. I shouted, 'Hey George, quick, I have something for you!', to which I received the reply, 'My name is Geoff, you prick!'. He proceeded to charge towards me to the best of his ability considering his injury, but he stopped suddenly as I raised the pistol up and aimed it at him.

I feel sorry for the person who walked into that room later that day to find a body with a perfect, round, red hollow in the middle of his forehead.

Rushing over to Conor, I slotted the pistol in my belt, using it as a holster. Nadira was still crying, which I didn't like to see, and didn't comfort me. Tearing the sleeves off of my shirt, I used them as makeshift bandages to wrap around Conor's wound until we docked and we got to a hospital in Wales. After all, nobody knew about us in Britain...