‘A whole load’s taken from Patrick Stein again, with a few personalized tweaks,’ Stuart says.
And it bothers her again, because it makes no sense that a narcissistic psychopath would use other people’s words.
‘14 Words have tweeted part of the bloodbath announcement,’ Lysander says. ‘Again it’s via proxies and aliases. They’re using bots to get it to trend.’
‘Jesus,’ Bronze Commander says. He takes a moment and his voice is calmer. ‘We’re taking it down?’
‘Yes.’
But it will already be growing exponentially on the internet with humans now retweeting.
‘Why are they making it public?’ Bronze Commander asks.
‘Maybe because they have nothing to lose now,’ Rose says. ‘They know we saw the timed announcement so they’re trying to take back some ground. Or maybe they want it out there.’
‘To create more terror?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
* * *
In Matthew’s office, Neil Forbright has received an email from Frank in the library. The gunman tried to get in again; then he knocked at the door, like a joke. He is no longer human to Neil but satanic; a demon hunting for souls. Psychiatrists can dress him up any which way in scientific terms but he is something evil, connected to times when the devil roamed the world and came knocking at your door. Only now he has a gun and the door is in a school with kids the other side. And it makes it worse, it does, the kids’ courage.
Tonya has just sent him a link on his phone. He clicks on it. It’s a tweet.
14 Words.abc @14words.bca
The only fucking way this country’s ever going to get turned around is if there’s A FUCKING BLOODBATH. At 12.00 it’s a BLOODBATH IN OLD SCHOOL, in the library & classrooms, a nasty, messy motherfucker
His phone rings and he answers.
‘Mr Forbright? It’s PC Beard. Tonya’s sent you the tweet?’
‘Yes.’
‘We need to go for my plan straight away. Tonya and the other adults in the English classroom agree.’
‘But—’
‘He probably won’t spot me but even if he does, I’m just in a PC’s uniform, even got the helmet. Not like the armed lot – he’s more likely to laugh at me than start firing at anyone. I’ll be Bobby the retro policeman to him.’
‘Do the police even know about this plan?’
‘I am the police, Mr Forbright. We have strict ways of doing things. Playing “ring the doorbell and run away from the gunman” isn’t one of those ways. They would almost definitely try and stop me.’
‘Because he’ll kill you.’
‘I’ll be running away by the time he gets to the door. Not fast, my wife’s roast dinners haven’t made me a running machine, but there’s plenty of bushes to hide behind. He’ll chase after me for a bit, hopefully, and then he’ll return to you lot, but you lot won’t be there any more.’
‘What if he finds you?’
‘This is my community, my patch. And from what I know of your school, it’s a special place, a smaller version of England; lots of different nationalities, any religion you like, nobody’s fussed, takes in refugees – Sorry, going on. No time for that. But the thing is, I want to help. When you hear the doorbell, good and loud, that’ll be me – as if anyone else will be ringing the doorbell.’ He actually chortles. ‘Tell everyone to wait for the doorbell, and then count, what do you think, to twenty? To give him time to get to the front door?’
‘Depends how quick he is. Maybe fifteen if he’s fast.’
‘Yes, I think he’ll be fast. Count to fifteen and then run like the wind to the theatre. I’ll tell Tonya and you tell the kids in the library?’
‘Okay.’
‘You need to go with them, all right, son? They’ll need someone they trust to be with them. I’ll tell that lovely lady Sally-Anne in the theatre to let you in. She’s been waiting.’
And this is what evil does, Neil thinks. It exposes your fear and cowardice, your vulnerability and your fragility, makes you confront your mortality; but it also finds courage and selflessness that amaze Neil. He thinks of white type on a white screen, the poem’s beauty invisible until the background screen is turned black.
* * *
In the library, Hannah checks Mr Marr is breathing and he is, but so faintly that she needs to put her hand on his chest to feel it move. Ed and David are taking books away from the heaped barricade; Ed passes books to Frank, David to Esme, and then they carefully put them down on to the floor, trying to make no sound.
The book barricade dwindles.
The door is visible.
The footsteps are getting louder. They’re coming towards them.
The footsteps stop outside the door. Does he know he can open it? One shove and he’ll be inside.
She just wants to live so badly. Because it’s all out there, Rafi is out there and university and all of it. And Dad needs her. He still thinks that she needs him more than he needs her, but it’s changing, the pattern, the parabola, so she can’t not be here any more.
The footsteps move away; he doesn’t know he can open the door.
Ed and David pass the last of the books, Frank and Esme gently putting them down.
Everyone is taking off their shoes so they’ll just be in their socks and not make any noise. Hannah’s socks are still damp from running through the woods this morning. She takes off Frank’s anorak, which rustles, and her bangles that will jingle; lots of the girls are doing that, dangly earrings too, just in case.
A loud long ring on the doorbell, sounding strange and echoey in the corridor.
The footsteps come towards them, they get to their door, they keep going.
He’s gone past the door! He went past!
They start to count. They get to five.
* * *
Neil runs down the corridor towards Jacintha’s classroom, fearing that the gunman will realize it’s a trick and come back. Their part of the corridor remains deserted, the gunman doesn’t yet realize.
He reaches Jacintha’s classroom and opens the door, but only a few inches because there’s a desk still up against it and behind the desk he sees terror blanching the faces of children and the three adults, and then the relief that it’s him. ‘Time to go,’ he whispers. ‘Quickly now.’ And it’s like he’s asked them to jump off a cliff or stand in front of a firing squad, then Jacintha and Tonya quietly lift the desk and set it down softly away from the door; Tonya walks through the open doorway and the curse is broken and they all run through the doorway into the corridor.
* * *
They’ve counted to fifteen and it’s time to leave the library. Hannah’s hand is on Mr Marr’s chest, he’s still breathing. She looks at her socks and her wrist bare of jangling bangles; how can she leave him?
The door opens very quietly. It’s Mr Forbright. He looks at Mr Marr and Hannah sees his shock and upset, his love for Mr Marr, and through his eyes she knows for a fact, though really she’s known since he was first shot, that Mr Marr is dying.
‘Everyone out,’ he says. ‘Quick as you can. Run. You too, Hannah. I’ll come back for him, I promise.’