Posts Tagged ‘end of days’

I’ve kept the kids quiet and subdued for the past several days. They ask me what’s happened, but I know telling them the complete truth would just cause mass chaos. I tell them that there was an emergency and that help is coming, that we just have to sit and wait for them to come to us. Some of my kids, like Shelby, cry most of the time. She wants her mother and I can only substitute for that for so long. Then there are kids like Vincent who wants to get out of here, find his loved ones and see what’s happened beyond the carefully crafted safe-haven that I’ve made for them here. I can control the kids who cry more easily than I can the kids like Vincent. I’m scared and Matilda is of little help.

Her main contribution to life here is her daily bitching about the bathroom situation. It’s simple: We don’t have one. I’ve told the kids that if they had to go that they would have to find a spot in Mrs. Swan’s office and that when they were through to clean themselves up with the stock pile of tissues she had in her closet. It is not the most sanitary solution and I knew that it would not last, but it kept the kids close enough to the group, gave them privacy and kept us from having to go out into the school to the bathrooms and see all of the bloodshed that occurred in our quiet, little neighborhood school. There will come a time and it will be soon that I will have to take them out there, but it is hard for me to face that. To have to take that ideal of safety and protection that the school has served them with is overwhelming for me and it is a big step out into this new world that I am slightly terrified to have to be living in while I have to protect my students.

I’m working on the bathroom thing, I know it’s an issue and that I have to be the adult and get us all safely to a better location. For now, the pressing issue is going to get more bottled water and canned food from the kitchen. I’m taking Vincent with me this time so we can stock up. Matilda has “volunteered” to stay back with the others. I’m pissed, but someone needs to and in reality she will just slow us down if she came with us. I want to push towards the front of the school and check things out. The bathrooms are there and though I am sure running water is a thing of the past, I do think that it would be etter for the kids to at least have a bathroom that I could maybe manually flush if we found enough water.

Here’s to hoping it’s out there!

We were in the media center when it happened. The Outbreak. There I was with Matilda, my ancient from another time all together aide, who was never much of any help to begin with but there we were, trying to get my 17 kids to log onto the main server so that we could start our social studies project on the American Revolution. You think I was asking them to solve world hunger with they way they complained and whined as they tried to drag it all out. Now, I think they would be happy to go back to that moment, eagerly put their winter break behind them and begin that project, given all that has happened since then.

I haven’t moved them since it happened…since the hordes reached us. I feel that here we are safe. We are at the farthest end of the school, in the only place that does not have any windows with only two ways in and out. There is the main door I barricaded with book shelves with the help of some of my bigger kids once the sirens overpowered the screaming…the screaming of my co-workers and students who weren’t as lucky as us. We’re connected to the computer lab. I let the kids play in there, but we sleep in the media center on the cushions from the sofas and various other make-shift things we could find in here. I use the door from the computer room to come and go. I half-barricaded it and move it away only when I have to get next door to the cafeteria.

The hallways are deserted and littered with glass from when the bombing happened. There are streams of dried blood and gore, marks of  death that connect somewhere to a victim that I surely know, but I refuse to follow those trails to find out just who it is. We had gone into lock-down shortly before we were overrun which left all of the classrooms as an easy mark. Thankfully though, for us, the hordes had reached us in the morning before any lunch period had begun, leaving the multipurpose room eerily vacant. I grabbed as many canned goods as I could carry. We’ve been living off canned peaches ever since. Gag. School peaches – not exactly what I ever thought I would have to survive on or truthfully ever eat.

I know that we will have to branch out of here soon, but I don’t know how to exactly move with the group of children I have left. At the time of The Outbreak, 12 of my students were with me and Matilda. I don’t know what happened to the five that were with other teachers or out in the building, I can only hope the best and that they got out with someone before shit really hit the fan.

The back-up generators are spotty and patchy at best, but I am thankful to still have them. The kids are scared enough as is and the power at least allows us to use the lights and computers sparingly. Somehow we have internet? I’m connected to MILTglobe. I’m assuming it’s some sort of government set-up, I only hope that it stays up.

Is anyone out there?