“Guys…”

Finn whispered tentatively, not looking behind himself. In the darkness some soft sort of tension told him they were listening as he was.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” came the reply from Sam to his right. “That’s a different sound; like a different gun.”

“What?” said Mercedes. “So he’s got another gun with him as well?”

“No, no,” mumbled Finn, trying to work out why the sound was so different, so important. Another crash echoed down the hall from the cafeteria.

“It sounded further away.”

Another crash, another shot, this time close, as the older ones had been. Then an even more chilling sound, a raking, rasping laugh, which cackled and sparked with madness; the noise was faint, but most definitely real. Finn’s spine came out of numbness to shiver. Oh God. What had that man done to Kurt? To his brother?

“He sounds close. Really close.”

Tina trembled and passed her hands into Mike’s.

“No,” Finn repeated.

“He’s still in the cafeteria. He hasn’t come out or we’d have heard him.”

Again they relapsed into silence as the noises continued. Then all at once a voice much louder, but also much further away echoed throughout the building. Its sound was muffled and distorted and electronic, but the children, hearing the tone, understood the message. The police were here. The building was surrounded and there was no escape for the gunman. Behind him, Finn heard someone give a long exhale of anxiousness.

“It won’t be long now, right?”

It was Quinn. Nobody answered as the electronic, loud-hailing noise began again, repeating its message. Almost in answer came that cackling laugh again, and another set of shots.

“They’d have come to the front of school right?” whispered Puck.

“So they must be down in the quad, trying to go up the back stairs to the cafeteria.”

“But,” piped Rachel, “Santana told them where we were; why would they be going in through the cafeteria? Why not just come and get us?”

Finn knew the responsibility for all the questions was landing on him. He had no ideas; no idea why the police should be doing what they were doing, no answers for the state of the universe; God, what did they want from him? A very gentle rustling noise drew Finn’s eyes upwards in the now familiar darkness; Kurt’s bag was open and the papers inside it were rippling in the draught from one of the high windows at the back of the room. But then he became aware of a second noise, of feet and muttered voices deadened by the two storey drop to the grass of the playing fields. There were people outside, on their side of the building. Lifting one hand over his head and signalling, Finn tried to direct the attention of the others to the window, open only a few inches. But turning with his heart pounding in his chest, he saw that most of them didn’t understand. Rachel’s dark brows were furrowed in confusion, Brittany’s head cocked comically. He bent low, feeling suddenly secretive, and whispered, still pointing.

“Outside. Can't you hear it? There are people outside.”

There was silence for a few seconds, but then Rachel looked him in the eyes.

“Finn, I can’t hear anything.”

Finn strained to hear the precious sounds again. But his head fell; he couldn’t.

“I swear I heard them; swear it.”

Puck turned away from the far door for a second.

“Sorry man; can't hear them either…”

Another noise from the direction of the cafeteria.

“Maybe, maybe you just wanted to hear it?”

“But…but if they are out there; then…then their waiting for us. We need to go, we need to go to them, get out of here…”

Finn was rambling, his voice getting louder in graduations. The possibility of all this coming to an end was almost overwhelming.

Rachel reached forwards and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Finn; calm down. We can't go. We can’t move and we mustn’t talk loudly, ok? We have to wait; they’ll come to us in a bit.”

The boy looked back into her deep brown eyes and blinked. No. Finn couldn’t stand it; any of it, any longer.

“I’m going to look.”

Before any of them could stop him, Finn had shrugged off Rachel’s light hands and, staggering slightly to one side as the blood rushed back past his knees, stood up outside of the cocoon of the piano. Sam and Mike lunged for his feet, but only managed to catch the hem of his jeans, which quickly slithered out of their fingers.

“No! Finn!”

Quinn darted forwards, crawling through the mass of bodies, but Sam grabbed her by the arms and held her back. Rachel sat, eyes wide, hands still half extended, as Finn dove across the room towards the raised seats, in full view of either door. Grabbing a chair and dragging it to the window, he climbed up and looked down into the moonlight.

From his position under the keyboard of the piano, Puck glanced left and right at the horrified faces of his friends, feeling Lauren’s soft hand tighten around his. He squeezed it back. Then made up his mind.

“Fuck this…”

He too dove out from under the cover and ran, still crouching, after his old best friend.

In the midst of all this, no one noticed that the noises from the cafeteria had stopped, or that the doors had swung open with that distinctive swoooosh.
-
Downstairs, Kurt and Karofsky had heard every shot along with Mr Schuester and the Glee members, as well as the wail of the loudhailer.

“What the hell do you think is happening?” whispered Dave, his eyes the only clearly visible part of him to Kurt’s adjusting vision, shining out of the surrounding darkness.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got him trapped somewhere.”

“Sounds like the cafeteria. That’s what’s upstairs on that side.”

Kurt let their voices lapse into silence again. He concentrated on continuously feeling the sensation of Blaine’s heart beating against his own, and his boyfriend’s back and chest rising and falling as he breathed. Keep going, Blaine.

A few more minutes passed, interspersed with random noises. Slowly, Kurt began to convince himself that he could hear other noises, shufflings and low voices, coming from somewhere nearby.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Listen. I think it’s outside.”

Dave’s eyes disappeared for a moment; Kurt pictured his huge face screwing into itself with the effort of listening.

“Yeah…yeah, I think I do.”

Kurt’s heart leapt, help was coming. But then a hail of shots sounded overheard again, having changed places, and Kurt heard a stream of different, very different sounds which stopped his heart and flung it into his mouth. From above, five, six, seven shouts and screams; the voices of his friends. And from outside a frantic running and clattering, leading to an iron grating sound, and the slamming of a door, with moving feet now pounding down the distant corridors. Whoever had been outside was now within, running in at a distance fire escape, chasing up the east staircase to the floor above. They had been forgotten.

And then, with a slight breath on his fingers, frozen half woven into Blaine’s soft curls, a small, unsteady voice, barely a sigh, cut into the tune:

“K-k-kurt?”

Eyelashes quavered and rose millimetres.

“K…kurt? Wha…whe…are…you ok?”