School by Nathaniel Hardman (top reads .TXT) 📕

down on the gas again, and this time, they did move, skidding around backward and to the side, away from the guards. Jeff kept his foot down, and the car picked up speed. He looked over his shoulder to see where he was going, and he was jolted nearly unconscious as the car crashed into another of the high garden walls that lined the street.

“Forget reverse,” he growled and jerked the shifter down to “D”. The guards were running toward them. It was time to get back to school. Jeff shouted wordlessly and floored it once more.

There was a gratifying moment when he saw the guards’ faces change from angry to terrified; then Jeff felt a moment of terror himself when he realized he was about to run someone over with a car. He closed his eyes. No thuds. He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see the guards picking themselves up from the road.

“Jeff!” Suzy screamed, and he felt her yank on the wheel under his hands. Jeff’s body was pulled sidewise into the door by the centrifugal force as they careened around the corner at high speed, but somehow, they didn’t hit anything. Jeff gripped the steering wheel with both hands and clenched his jaw in concentration.

“Slow down,” Suzy commanded, “You don’t have to floor it all the way to the school!”

“I don’t know about that,” Jeff muttered. Windows were lighting up all around them. He looked up at the rear-view mirror, couldn’t see anything, and reached up to adjust it. Aliens were pouring out into the street, roused from their beds by the sounds of the car.

“Jeff!” Suzy yelled, pulling on the wheel again. Jeff jerked back, almost over-correcting into the wall on the other side of the street. He took a long, shaky breath.

“This,” he growled, “Is not as fun as I thought it would be.”

FORTY THREE

Jeremiah had been under this bed for an eternity.

It had been luck that they had recognized the alien being carried in here, and more luck when he and his guards had come back out to deal with the explosions that were sounding outside the castle, giving Jeremiah and Lori a chance to sneak in and hide under the bed.

They had felt the magic in the last two days, drawing them up, up. They had almost followed the tug onto the roof, but instead, they had lain low and scoured the castle, looking for the switcher, the alien with the wand that could bring their kids back.

Then, this morning, they had seen him carried in here. He had been in terrible shape when he staggered out again a short time later, and when they hid, they were sure he’d be back in moments.

But they’d been here for hours now, and Jeremiah was starting to wonder if the switcher had died. He wanted to just get up and explore the room, but he reminded himself sternly that they couldn’t afford to blow everything now.

Jeremiah snorted and woke up. He was enormously uncomfortable, especially his locked knees and sore back. He bent his knees the few inches he could manage and felt absurdly frustrated he couldn’t bend them farther. He tried again to roll onto his side, but there was no clearance.

He eased the phone out of his pocket and turned it on. 5:32 pm. Even if the switcher didn’t come back here to sleep for another five hours, he could return at any moment for some other reason.

This is going to be a long six hours if I can’t get comfortable. Jeremiah tried again to roll onto his side, and this time, when the weight of the bed resisted him, he rolled harder, and the bed lifted up several inches, supported on his shoulder and hip. It was a little heavy, but bending his knees and renewing his circulation was pure heaven.

“What are you doing?!” hissed Lori.

“My legs were going to fall off,” he whispered back, “I just had to bend. Try it; it feels great.” After a few worried protests, Lori rolled onto her side as well and let out a little groan of relief as she bent her legs.

The door opened, and a number of men entered the room, talking loudly.

The voices moved to the side of the room where Jeremiah had seen the desk and papers. One gave an order, and a door opened and closed.

Jeremiah hoped briefly that everyone had left, but then the conversation resumed, and his heart sank.

He wondered how they hadn’t noticed the tilt of the bed. Then he began to think that maybe if he rolled back very, very slowly, no one would notice.

Then he began to think about how much he needed to use the bathroom.

How long had it been? He rewinded through the day – the last time he peed was this morning, right before they had scavenged breakfast by the dining hall. And that was before sunrise. Good thing that drink was so terrible.

Jeremiah heard the door open again, then smelled food, something exotic and spicy. He held back a groan. They were having dinner in here, and the weight of the bed was becoming VERY uncomfortable. He began rolling ever-so-slowly off his side.

Lori hit him and held up one, barely-visible finger to wait. Jeremiah saw her put both hands up against the bed and bend her legs just enough to take some of the bed’s weight on her knees. She nodded to him, and he began rolling.

It reminded him of the many nights he had lowered baby Jeff into his crib, so careful lest he cry and wake up Suzy. This was gentler. After an eon, Jeremiah felt the weight come off his hip, then his shoulder. He breathed a silent sigh of relief before feeling the pressure in his bladder redouble; flat on his back, it was worse.

Someone