Scene 15
6:17 PM
"Things are extremely different this time?" Glenn said, his voice still shaky from whatever the hell just happened to him. "I'm very much aware."
Gwen's grip on his shoulder tightened. "What the hell are we going to do?"
Before Glenn could answer—
BANG
The gunshot cracked through the cafeteria like a whip, silencing every voice, every movement. The echo rang off the white tiles.
"EVERYBODY BACK!"
The Sheriff's voice boomed from the corridor entrance, authoritative and final. The crowd that had pressed in around Randall and Seth immediately scattered, bodies stumbling over each other to clear a path.
Glenn's head snapped toward the doorway.
The Sheriff strode in first, his broad frame filling the entrance, sunglasses still on despite being indoors, his hand resting casually on the holster at his hip. The smoke from his warning shot still wisped faintly from the barrel.
Behind him, moving with quick, purposeful steps, came Dr. West.
The doctor's white coat billowed slightly as he walked, his face set in grim focus. His graying hair was slightly mussed, and there was a tightness around his eyes that spoke of interrupted concentration.
And behind him, trailing just at the edge of the doorway—
"Tch... look," Gwen hissed, nudging Glenn hard in the ribs.
Glenn's breath caught.
Matthew.
He stood next to the Sheriff, just inside the threshold, his posture rigid and unreadable. His dark eyes swept across the cafeteria, taking everything in with that same cold, analytical stare Glenn had seen a hundred times before.
Dr. West must have been in the middle of a session with him. And now, here he was, watching.
Dr. West didn't waste time. She dropped to one knee beside Randall, whose body was still jerking in irregular spasms, foam and blood mixing at the corners of his mouth. The doctor's hands moved quickly, checking pulse, pupils, airway.
"Damn it," Dr. West muttered under her breath. She looked up sharply at the nearest guard. "Pick him up. Get him to medical. NOW."
One of the guards, a thick-necked man with a scar above his eyebrow, didn't hesitate. He bent down, scooped Randall up like a sack of grain, and immediately headed for the exit, Randall's limbs still twitching weakly in his arms.
Dr. West rose to her feet and followed without another word, her coat snapping behind her as she disappeared through the doorway.
The Sheriff turned his attention to Seth.
The boy was still on the ground, restrained face-down by two guards. His face was a mess, split lip, swelling around his left eye, blood dripping from his nose onto the white tile. His breathing was ragged, but he wasn't struggling anymore. He just lay there, limp, staring at nothing.
The Sheriff stood over him for a long moment, the reflection of Seth's battered, restrained body clear in the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
He sighed.
"Ground him," the Sheriff said flatly.
The guards nodded. They hauled Seth to his feet, or tried to. His legs dragged uselessly beneath him, unresponsive, his head lolling forward. They carried him out like a corpse, his feet scraping twin lines across the floor.
The cafeteria was dead silent.
The Sheriff turned slowly, his gaze sweeping across the room. Even the cooks had stopped moving, ladles frozen mid-scoop, eyes wide.
"What?" the Sheriff barked. "Waiting to see me pick one of you out to suck my dick? Go back to what you were doing, people!"
The spell broke.
Conversations resumed, quieter, more subdued, but present. Boys shuffled back to their tables. The line reformed, slower this time, cautious.
Matthew was the last one to step into the line.
He moved with no urgency, no emotion. Just calm, measured steps. His eyes flicked once toward the bloodstain on the floor where Randall had been, then forward again.