The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off yet.

We had a plan. We put things in place. Direction, steps, guidance.

Since all the recent emergencies in our neighbouring states, we basically had no choice. We wanted to get ahead of the game, and be fully prepared. We did everything right. 46 deaths, and 180 injured is reason enough. We had all been briefed thoroughly, and were supposed to be extending this briefing to the students today, at 11 am sharp. The alarm would sound, the procedure practised, the steps would be learnt. In preparation, for when the real thing happened. But it happened too soon. The alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. 


On the morning of Friday 29th October, each teacher, janitor, kitchen staff, all staff, were fully prepared for the alarm to go off at 11, to guide the students to safe places, safe positions, to call the emergency services and wait for help. After all, there had been a shooter on the loose for 3 months now. He weaved seamlessly from school to school yet leaving no pattern, apart from the bodies he had slain and left as a heap on the ground. He was quick. He was smart. He was untouchable. It was discussed at large, what to do. Do we shut the schools? Do we hire armed guards? How do we protect the students, and ourselves, whilst keeping a form of normality? At last, it was decided to keep the schools open, have a strict screening process, and an alarm. The very alarm that wasn't supposed to go off yet. We should have known, see, as we were prepared, but we all panicked. They did not prepare us for the fear part, not really.


On that morning, the students arrived as normal, chittering, skipping, rough and tumbling. Some, with parents hand in hand, and some, with a lunch bag, pe kits in hand. Everything was normal, everything was the same. There was no warning.


We decided 11 am, for 9 would be too early, too rushed, we thought. 2 would be too late, too disruptive, we thought. So 11. 11 was the plan. When the alarm was supposed to go off.


As the children settled into their classes, each teacher began to start explaining that there was a special event today. That it was very important, and everyone had to listen very carefully. That after, there would be a Pop quiz, and a prize for the winner. A prize. What a joke. How insane it sounds, now, after, to give out a prize, for the best student hiding from a shooter.


There is a shooter in the school. That's what the alarm said, when it rang at 10:37. This wasn't the drill we planned, this was real. I gathered as many students as I could. We all did, but the children didn't know what to do, they hadn't been briefed, like planned. They screamed, and scrambled, Sprinted and shouted. Chaos. We heard the shots, one after the other, like a beating heart - Bah-bum, bah-bum. Ironic. He kept shooting them, shooting us. Of course he did, what else would he do?








It was  11am. I knew it was meant to be at 11 am. I hadn’t stuck before 11 am before, so this was perfect. I struck on 12, I struck on 1, but never before 11am. I like it. Elevensies. Yes. That's what I'll call them. My Elevensies. I wondered if I should do something different, I was getting bored. Maybe my hatred is fading now? Maybe I'm starting to not care? Nah, probably not. It wasn't the death that I liked. It wasn't the blood. It was the fact that I did it. That was me. Finally, some recognition. I was so confident, having been so successful in the other schools. The schools that didn't have an alarm. 


 Anyway, the alarm was supposed to go off at 11am, so I had time. But it didn't. The alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. It wasn't supposed to go off when I entered the school at 10.37. But it did, and I panicked. I wasn't prepared for the panic, not really. I’ll admit it, I got scared. Scared that they could see me. That they were coming to get me. Ironic. I shot them anyway. Of course I did, what else could I do? It wasn't a clean getaway like before, I stumbled and tripped, over things that weren't supposed to be there. Like that stupid alarm.I didn't get to do as much as i wanted. Still, I did enough. I did do something new though. I did get caught. Because the alarm was supposed to go off yet.









It was quiet, but not calm-quiet. Eerie quiet, the morning we got the shooter. I don't mean got as in got caught. I mean got, for good. Dead. It had been going on for so long, yet we got him. We got him good. Some say we are just as bad as him, for death is death. The parents of the children don't say that. They say we enjoy it, because we do. Because they do. 


 He had been here for a few weeks, and boy, what a frenzy. Some inmates loved him, worshipped him. Some inmates hated him, absolutely detested him, with every inch of their being. And some inmates feared him, uncontrollably terrified of him. And he loved every part of it. He said it was because it reminded him of home. Being loved, feared, and hated, all at the same time. Makes you think, doesn't it?


The hanging was scheduled for 10:55. 68 dead, 203 injured. He didn't cry or shout or try to fight, when we came for him. He walked with us, mirrored us, almost respected us, I think. 

We all knew what would happen next. We walked, and walked and walked, until we reached the noose. We tied him up and read his charges. He radiated pride. Sick. He looked impressed that we got the number of victims correct. As if there were too many to count. Almost. The floorboards creaked with age, tired of being stood on, bearing the weight until the lever pulled. And then it did. He jolted and jumped, withered and kicked. This went on for a few minutes, until he was still. Until the medic checked for signs of life. But there was none. So at 11am, to indicate the death of a mass murderer, the alarm rang, right on time. Ironic.