One
Rick Kaiser faced the towering glass doors of
Armstrong High School. The setting sun dazzled against the white face of
the building to either side as far as the eye could see and glimmered deep
amber against the bank of bronzed windows.
He stood alone in the silence. Dreaming, he
suspected, except the glare forced him to shield his eyes, and the heat of
the day had sweat running down his back.
Since when were dreams so vivid?
Then why was he here? The school had closed hours
ago. The doors were locked solid and the corridors inside deserted.
Confused, Rick started to turn away.
A hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around,
slamming him against the door. A knife blade flashed in his face. A
point as sharp as a needle quivered an inch off the end of his nose.
"Got any money on you, kid?"
He saw the pudgy face, the mussed black hair, and the
hazel eyes behind the knife, and he held back his cry of alarm.
Mort Braggs threw his head back and burst into
laughter.
Shaken, Rick shoved Mort and his switchblade away.
"That was real funny, Mort."
"Kaiser, you're such a wimp!"
Rick leaned against the door until his legs quit
shaking, his eyes on the trees casting long shadows across the school
grounds. Had he just walked between those trees a few moments ago? Odd
that he couldn't remember any details of that walk. Lost in a
daydream, maybe.
Neither had he seen a slender girl in a long dress
following. She walked with her eyes to the ground, dark hair hiding her
face. When she drew closer, he saw that she was smaller than he would
have thought. Petite, was the word. She stood no higher than chest
height to his height of five nine.
Did he know her? It seemed odd that students should
be gathering at the school so late in the evening. It would be dark soon.
A soft feminine voice spoke behind him. "Who do you
think you're looking at, Rick Kaiser?"
Confused at every turn, Rick turned to the glare of
ice blue eye almost on level with his own. "You have a girlfriend," Marla
van Kirk said without smiling. "I'm good enough for you, aren't I?"
Her name took an uncomfortable moment to come to
mind. Rick draped an arm across Marla's shoulders to hide his
discomfort. "I guess you'll do," he said, catering to her taste for wit
and sarcasm.
"Yeah, you're darned right I'll do."
Marla gave Mort a hard look. "Are you just going to
stand there and look stupid?" She gestured with a nod for the boy to try
the door.
Mort gave her a mock sneer and tugged at the door
handle. The door had been locked a moment ago. Now, the main entrance
swung effortlessly open. Mort stumbled back and raised an eyebrow in
surprise.
Another memory snapped into place. The four of them
had an appointment for a special test at six o'clock. And Becky Marple
was the name of the girl coming up from behind. He shared a science class
with her. He especially remembered her Asian eyes. How could he have
forgotten?
He looked down at his watch. Five-fifty in the
afternoon. Right on time. He followed Mort and Marla inside the school.
Becky slipped in like a ghost behind them.
Inside, the inner door, a barrier of glass, remained
stubbornly closed and locked. A male voice spoke, the voice of Armstrong
High's executive computer. "Contraband has been detected on your person,
Mortimer Braggs. Place all contraband items in the drawer to your right.
If an error has been made, Security will be summoned to assist you in ten
seconds, nine, eight..."
"Do it," Rick said. The glass around them was
shatterproof. They were trapped until Mort got rid of the knife.
And once freed? What waited for them inside the
deserted halls of Armstrong High? Rick wasn't entirely certain. He could
not remember the reason for the scheduled test. Offhand, he could not
even remember ever having walked the dimly lit halls on the other side of
the barrier.
Something was wrong. Big time. It would be as easy
to beat a hasty retreat. Or had the doors locked on the group
already? He glanced longingly outside at the deepening shadows, but
sudden gooseflesh ran up his back.
White buildings rose from behind the trees, but for
the life of him, he could not remember where among them he lived.
