Ashe had the main exits held within two minutes, three columns of trained upperclassmen forming a loose funnel that let students through in manageable waves instead of one crushing surge. It was good work. She'd done this kind of thing before, in smaller drills, and it turned out the shape of it didn't change much just because the danger was real this time.
Behind her, the funnel kept moving, students shuffling through in ragged lines toward the courtyard, most of them too frightened to look at anything except the doorway ahead. A pair of younger boys clung to each other's sleeves the whole way through. Nobody stopped to thank her. Nobody had time to.
Then five students came at her from the side corridor, and she recognized two of them by sight before they'd said a word.
