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porkwithbonesLaridian and I are co-writing a month of ficlets using the Inktober "Postapocalyptic Wanderers" prompts and the setting of the novel we wrote last year during NaNo, Trickshot, as the setting. (We’re writing the sequel as this year’s NaNo novel, so this is part of our preparation.)
Rik couldn't believe they hadn't cancelled school. Lots of parents were picking their kids up as the news became clearer on what was happening, but his hadn't. The teachers had mostly given up on trying to make students pay attention. Half the teachers weren't there either. Ordinarily he’d get in trouble for texting in class, but today…
Rikki: mom you have to come get me
Rikki: come on this is serious
Mom: I can't, your dad has the car. He's trying to get supplies.
Mom: I have to be here until your uncle picks up your cousin.
Rik could have hit his head on his desk. His aunt and uncle were unreliable about picking up their son at the best of times. Instead he lay his head on his desk and took shallow breaths, knowing it would make him look pale within a few minutes.
"Miss Henderson," the teacher said. He was one of those teachers who calls all students Mister or Miss and their last names. "Are you well?"
"I think I'm having an asthma attack," Rik said, still taking shallow breaths, wheezing just a little.
"Go to the nurse for your inhaler, then. I'll write you a note."
He nodded — grateful, obedient student — and took the note and his backpack to the nurse's office. He didn't often need his inhaler, and by school rules he wasn't allowed to carry it himself, as if he was a child. He was fourteen! And looked older. But the school policy was No Drugs, not even for the one kid who had cystic fibrosis and needed her inhaler three times a day during the school day, on a good day.
Whatever. They didn't know the one the nurse had was his spare. But it got him out of class. And he wanted his spare inhaler back, so after the nurse supervised him using it and locked it back up, he let the nurse see how weak he was, and had an excuse to lie down for a while until he caught his breath.
“You'll be okay if I leave you here, Erika?” the nurse asked. Her pager was ringing, as usual.
“I'm sure I will.” Rik made sure his voice sounded appropriately wan, but not too bad. He didn’t want Miss Jamison thinking she needed to stick around.
When the nurse was gone, he got her spare key out of the lap drawer. He got his inhaler from the side drawer, didn't touch anyone else's prescription stuff, and locked the drawer back. Looked in the next drawer. Epi pens, those would be good to have; he left one for the school, stuffed the other two in the bottom of his backpack. Did the same with various other medical supplies. Bandages, gauze, medical tape, hemostatic powder. He knew all this stuff, what it was for, how to use it. His family wasn't very good about keeping their first aid kit stocked, no matter how much he asked. He doubted anyone would be using what was in the nurse's station after this, but he left one of everything so they wouldn't be completely out, just in case.
When he was done, he didn't peek out of the door; he just opened it and looked around, like he was looking for the nurse. No one in sight except a couple of students scurrying down the hall.
I got a text from my Dad, he told himself, to have the story ready. He said meet him at the corner of Farmer's and Main, so he could avoid the traffic by the school. He said he had called the school and gotten the ok from the office.
Everyone knew he was a good kid. The school was chaos. Even if someone tried to stop him, with that story ready, he could probably get away. When he was well away, he'd text his parents, let them know he was coming home. He wasn't spending any more hours in a building with a bunch of other teenagers while a meteor hurtled toward the Earth.
Rik couldn't believe they hadn't cancelled school. Lots of parents were picking their kids up as the news became clearer on what was happening, but his hadn't. The teachers had mostly given up on trying to make students pay attention. Half the teachers weren't there either. Ordinarily he’d get in trouble for texting in class, but today…
Rikki: mom you have to come get me
Rikki: come on this is serious
Mom: I can't, your dad has the car. He's trying to get supplies.
Mom: I have to be here until your uncle picks up your cousin.
Rik could have hit his head on his desk. His aunt and uncle were unreliable about picking up their son at the best of times. Instead he lay his head on his desk and took shallow breaths, knowing it would make him look pale within a few minutes.
"Miss Henderson," the teacher said. He was one of those teachers who calls all students Mister or Miss and their last names. "Are you well?"
"I think I'm having an asthma attack," Rik said, still taking shallow breaths, wheezing just a little.
"Go to the nurse for your inhaler, then. I'll write you a note."
He nodded — grateful, obedient student — and took the note and his backpack to the nurse's office. He didn't often need his inhaler, and by school rules he wasn't allowed to carry it himself, as if he was a child. He was fourteen! And looked older. But the school policy was No Drugs, not even for the one kid who had cystic fibrosis and needed her inhaler three times a day during the school day, on a good day.
Whatever. They didn't know the one the nurse had was his spare. But it got him out of class. And he wanted his spare inhaler back, so after the nurse supervised him using it and locked it back up, he let the nurse see how weak he was, and had an excuse to lie down for a while until he caught his breath.
“You'll be okay if I leave you here, Erika?” the nurse asked. Her pager was ringing, as usual.
“I'm sure I will.” Rik made sure his voice sounded appropriately wan, but not too bad. He didn’t want Miss Jamison thinking she needed to stick around.
When the nurse was gone, he got her spare key out of the lap drawer. He got his inhaler from the side drawer, didn't touch anyone else's prescription stuff, and locked the drawer back. Looked in the next drawer. Epi pens, those would be good to have; he left one for the school, stuffed the other two in the bottom of his backpack. Did the same with various other medical supplies. Bandages, gauze, medical tape, hemostatic powder. He knew all this stuff, what it was for, how to use it. His family wasn't very good about keeping their first aid kit stocked, no matter how much he asked. He doubted anyone would be using what was in the nurse's station after this, but he left one of everything so they wouldn't be completely out, just in case.
When he was done, he didn't peek out of the door; he just opened it and looked around, like he was looking for the nurse. No one in sight except a couple of students scurrying down the hall.
I got a text from my Dad, he told himself, to have the story ready. He said meet him at the corner of Farmer's and Main, so he could avoid the traffic by the school. He said he had called the school and gotten the ok from the office.
Everyone knew he was a good kid. The school was chaos. Even if someone tried to stop him, with that story ready, he could probably get away. When he was well away, he'd text his parents, let them know he was coming home. He wasn't spending any more hours in a building with a bunch of other teenagers while a meteor hurtled toward the Earth.
