Right, Diana thought.
The five hustled away through the hall and bounded down the stairs. When they got to the first floor they paused and listened. The back door was at the end of an adjacent hall. Surprisingly no one was in the hallway, and they quickly walked past the long line of classrooms. Luckily all the classroom doors were closed.
They slowed as they got to the end of the hall, and Ralph peeked around the corner down to the back door. Many teachers had their doors open, which was against security rules, but this wasn’t your ordinary school day, was it?
“Okay kids. Let’s just walk regular—like we’re not in a rush,” said Ralph.
As they headed toward the back door, the hall seemed to get longer. One teacher looked at them from her desk and started to get up, but Jen nodded at her and kept going.
“Just keep walking like you’re doing,” Jen whispered.
Finally they got to the door and quickly stepped outside.
“Our cars are a little less than a mile away,” said Ralph. “Can you walk that far Mrs. Aron?”
“I’ll try.”
“Okay. Let us know if you need to stop.”
Chapter 22
From the TV news helicopter the five-mile gridlock looked like a giant mass of metal. The raging horns, the futile blare of chaos, had died down. An occasional beep echoed in the sprawl. People jumped out of their cars and fanned out, frantic to get to their kids or to the safety of their homes. Cars were locked and left on the shoulder and on the road, which added exponentially to the expanding traffic jam.
At the newspaper, reporters were at a standstill, and they huddled in front of the TV. They needed to jump on this story, talk to folks who were stuck. But how? Cell phone connections were intermittent, unreliable. Forget driving anywhere.
The ire of bus drivers attempting to rescue students was growing; getting stuck in traffic was their worst nightmare. Fearing exposure to radiation, they tightly shut all the bus windows and sat in a tomb of airless heat.
A TV newsperson in the helicopter somehow got through to the bus company. Could he talk to one of the drivers via a walkie-talkie? Cell phone? He lucked out; a connection was made, and in minutes the helicopter hovered over a school bus while broadcasting a live interview with the driver.
“Can you get out of the bus so we can see you?” the reporter yelled over the roaring helicopter.
“No way. I ain’t getting cancer from stuff out there,” said the driver. “I’ve got a good mind to turn around and head back—if I only could. We want to get the kids, but honestly, we’re crazy to be out here. We’re not even required to do emergency rescues.”
“If you could turn back, would you? And leave the students?”
“Let’s put it this way. By the time I get there, the kids will be long gone. The parents are already there, most likely. That’s what all this traffic is—parents and folks trying to escape the radiated zone.”
The driver’s words were heard by millions watching TV or listening to the radio. The emergency evacuation was making live news up and down the Northeast coast.
Reports about the wind changed every fifteen minutes. Westerly winds that could push the plume out to the Atlantic Ocean were now heading north. People living in the city to the south of the plant breathed a sigh of relief. Phone interviews with scientists and meteorologists were little more than a guessing game; everyone was uncertain how the radioactive steam cloud would behave.
At Diana’s school, a throng of parents had stomped over the wooden barricades and closed in on the four policemen, now a weakening line of defense.
“You’re holding our kids against our wishes. Let us in!” one mother screamed.
Parents taunted the police, and one father belligerently headed to the side of the building, screaming out his child’s name toward the windows on the second floor.
“Stop!” called out one cop. “Stop right now. Please.”
The man kept going, yelling for his kid.
“Look Mister, you have to stop!”
“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” the man didn’t even look back.
The cop pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it to the sky. The man kept walking, his back to the cop. A shot thundered out. Parents froze. The man stopped walking and didn’t move.
From upstairs, Diana heard the shot and broke into a sweat. The children looked at her. Some went to look out the window.
“Get away from that window. Now.” Diana demanded.
“Was that a real gun?” asked one boy.
“Not sure. Lets all stay calm.”
A few boys in the class jokingly pointed their fingers at each other in a make-believe gunfight.
Diana had to find out what was going on downstairs. Her cell phone showed a small signal and she chanced a call to Lou. Miraculously she got through.
“Diana, what’s going on? Are you still at the school?”
“Oh yes. And, I think the police have lost it. A gun just went off, and I can’t see what’s going on. We’re all on edge, especially the kids. We’re still waiting for the buses.”
“Forget the buses, Diana. They’re stuck in the biggest traffic jam of the century. We’re watching it on TV.”
“My God.”
“They just interviewed a driver and he wants to turn back. I’m sure he’s not the only one.”
Diana could hear screams from the front of the building. Maybe the riotous parents had forced their way inside. How long could four cops keep parents from their kids anyway?
“Any reports about radiation levels?” she strained into a crackling signal.
“Nothing yet. You might be safer staying inside until it blows over, or at least until they know where the plume is headed.”
Diana looked at the kids. They had become silent and were listening to her talk to Lou. Suddenly she heard glass shattering from somewhere downstairs.
“Gotta go. Will call you later.”
“What’s happening, Diana?”
“It’s glass. Broken glass. Call you later.”
She faced the kids and said, “Everyone, get your stuff. We’re going downstairs.”
Without a sound they stuffed their backpacks and followed Diana out to the hall and down the steps. With twelve kids following her, she headed to her office. Jane would have to know the truth about Mrs. Aron.
When she got into the reception area, she saw the door to her office was open, and from where she stood she could feel a strange breeze. A few kids followed her as she walked inside. They were stunned. The entire windows had been smashed with a brick, and glass fragments had sprayed on the floor. Slivers and sharp, angular fragments covered her desk, a wild, disjointed mosaic of glass. A large shard, like a dagger, catapulted into the box turtle’s aquarium and jutted out the top. Diana sprang over to look at the turtle. The glass just missed him. She reached in and held him up and his legs started to wiggle. Lucky, this one. She extracted the glass from the tank and put the reptile back.
“Wow, Ms. Chase. Why did this window get smashed?” a girl asked.
A few kids gingerly stepped around the room, glass splinters snapping under their feet. The break in the window was large enough for a person to get through.
“Someone wanted to get in real badly,” she said, dazedly.
“Where have you been?” Jane stood in the doorway looking ragged. “Who are these kids? Where is their teacher?”
“I can explain, Jane, but why don’t we all get out of here before someone gets hurt.”
They moved out to reception area, and the kids crowded in wherever they could.
“What’s going on, Diana. Where have you been? There’s a full-scale riot going on outside!”
“Yes, I can see that. Listen, Jane. The buses aren’t coming—the drivers are either too afraid or they can’t get through the traffic. They’re stuck in a major gridlock.”