For six years, I have been working on a novel. The setting is a high school during a prolonged internal lockdown. Prolonged is four hours in the novel. For various reasons, first responders cannot get into the building. Partially, the point of view is from isolated classes stuck in the school who do not have access to the big picture. If you are a teacher trapped with your classes, your problems would be myriad. What do you do with a diabetic who needs insulin or other kids who have their daily medications in the nurse’s office? What do you do with kids who have to relieve themselves? What do you do with the panicked? Do you run or fight? With what? In other words, what do you do if you are not receiving any direction from anyone, and getting rumors from texts and social media that ramp up the anxiety levels?
If you are a teacher trapped with your students, your problems would be myriad. What do you do with a diabetic who needs insulin or other kids who have their daily medications in the nurse’s office? What do you do with kids who have to relieve themselves? What do you do with the panicked? Asthma attacks? Do you run or fight? With what? What do you do if you are not receiving any direction from anyone, and getting rumors from intermittent texts and social media and internet access that only serve to ramp up the anxiety levels?
This a sample from early in the novel:
Cassie came over and stood close to Z trying to be discrete. “Mr. Czarnecki is dead,” she reported matter-of-factly. Zarlapski froze.
“What?” was all he could say.
Tears started to well in Cassie’s eyes. Zarlapski reached out, squeezed her arm, and put his index finger to his lips. Cassie nodded and went to sit down. Zarlapski tried to picture what Rob Czarnecki, his former assistant baseball coach, looked like. He couldn’t remember.
Kelly Keiter had heard Cassie’s somber announcement and gasped. Several seconds later she made a run for the makeshift bathroom. Zarlapski remembered that Czarnecki was good friends with Mr. Keiter and they served together as deacons in their church.
Zarlapski signaled with his thumb for Meredith Clancy to go check on Kelly. Meredith had to step over the legs of Ackerman who was again oblivious to everything going on, thumbs flying across his smartphone.
Intermittently, other information was now coming in from outside and being dutifully reported.
“My mom says police are all over the place.”
“The windows in the office are blown out.”
“We’re on the news.”
“There is smoke coming from the gym.”
Zarlapski glanced at Nicole Bennington who didn’t say anything. Her eyes were closed.
“Nicole, take my phone, call 91, and wait until they pick up if you have to. Tell them you are in a classroom, and the teacher needs to talk to the police.”
Nicole hobbled over and took the phone. Zarlapski uprighted a plastic chair for her to sit on.
The Q-View 