“Marybeth!” Her mother spoke up sharply. “You’re not leaving this house, young lady. That horrible gang is probably running around somewhere in the neighborhood.”
“But Mother,” wailed Marybeth. “We’ve got our programs to do for the Festival tomorrow! It’ll only take an hour or so and Mr. Knowland has given us special permission. What can possibly happen at school?”
“No use pushing the panic button,” said her father, and Marybeth looked at him gratefully. “That gang is far away by now, you can bet on that. I’ll drop Marybeth off at school when I take Davey to the doctor.”
Mr. Carmichael swung the car into the parking lot alongside the great sprawling glass-and-brick facade of Eastmoor High school. “Not a light in the place,” he said to Marybeth. “Are you sure you’re supposed to work here tonight?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy. We’ve got the mimeograph set up in the archery room. It’s off the gym and you can’t see it from here. I’ll bet Karen is there all ready. Old eager beaver. Now, please don’t worry. Her father will pick us up later.” She kissed Davey on top of his head. “You’re a brave little brother,” she said, “and I’m very proud of you.”
“I’m all right,” said Davey. “Just so Doc don’t stab me with no old needle.”
After the car drove away and the friendly light died out, Marybeth looked at the great blank row of darkened windows and shivered slightly. There was a dim light in the lobby of the gym entrance and she headed that way. Just as she reached the door it clanged open and she stepped back in momentary fright; then she recognized the tall gaunt figure of Mr. Bleecker, the custodian.
“Oh,” he said with a grunt, “you must be the other one. Mr. Knowland said there’d be two of you.” He opened a panel in the wall and switched on a single exit light. “I got enough trouble during the day without worrying about you kids at night.” He walked along ahead of her down the dim corridor, jingling his great ring of keys. “Man needs a little peace now and then.”
To the right of the corridor lay the great vaulted expanse of the gymnasium visible through the arched passages leading under the scats above. A faint glow from the skylight far overhead filtered down, slashed by a single bar of light from the outside cast by a vertical row of glass blocks set in the opposite wall.
Marybeth shivered slightly at the ghostly cavern so different at night from the noisy, brightly lighted expanse of gleaming hardwood in the daytime. The entire building took on a different character. Instinctively she stepped up her pace to be closer to Mr. Bleecker’s tall plodding figure.
As they turned into the side corridor leading to the archery room, she took one last look into the shadowed expanse of the gym. Suddenly she stopped and peered hard through the darkness. The narrow band of light across the glistening floor had blinked momentarily, as if an elongated shadow had just passed across it. Something, or somebody, had passed over the gym floor, quickly and silently.
“Mr. Bleecker!” she called toward the custodian, now out of sight around the corner. “Please, Mr. Bleecker, I think there’s someone in the gym!” She ran toward him as he turned and muttered something crossly. A door opened just ahead and light flooded the corridor as Karen’s face appeared. “Hi, kid,” she sang out cheerily. “About time. Gee, that was awful about your mother. I can’t wait to hear.” She stood aside for Marybeth to enter.
“But I wanted to tell Mr. Bleecker something,” said Marybeth hastily. “Wait a minute.”
“He can’t hear you anyhow,” said Karen. “Probably has his hearing aid turned down.”
Mr. Bleecker stopped in the doorway, jingling his huge key ring. “Now, listen, you kids,” he said, “you’re responsible for turning off lights and not leaving anything electrical hooked up. Understand? I go home to supper in a few minutes and I won’t be back until midnight. I left a door unlocked in the gym entrance. Pull it tight when you leave.” He glowered at them. “I want everything shipshape or I report you to Mr. Knowland.” He turned abruptly and stalked off down the corridor.
“What a grouch,” said Karen. “C’mon in, kid. I’ve got a stencil ready to run. Gee, I want to hear about your mother. I brought my transistor along and there was a news flash just a minute ago. The police have this whole end of town blocked off. Kind of exciting.” She stopped suddenly and looked at Marybeth. “Creepers, what’s the matter, Marybeth. You look pale.”
“It’s... oh, nothing really.” Marybeth shut the heavy metal door and snapped the lock. “It was probably my imagination, but I thought I saw someone sneaking through the gym.”
“Must have been a shadow. We’re the only ones in the building. Maybe what happened to your mother made you a little jumpy. I can’t blame you. But, gee, kid, it’ll get awfully stuffy in here with that door closed. No windows or anything.”
Marybeth smiled a little weakly. “I guess I’m just being silly.” She opened the door a few inches and peered out cautiously. “I don’t see why Mr. Bleecker couldn’t have left a light in the corridor.”
“He claims he’s protecting school board funds,” said Karen. “The old pinchpenny. He should hear my father groaning about taxes. C’mon, open the door and let’s get going. I’ve got to go down to the typing room and get more paper. This won’t be enough.”
“Hey, neat-o,” said Marybeth walking toward the archery rack at the end of the room. “Everything ready for tomorrow.”
“It should be,” said Karen. “Miss Kinsloe and I worked all afternoon. Restrung the bows and got all the arrows ready.”
“Lucky you,” said Marybeth. “You got out of English Lit. and Home Ec. We baked apple dumplings and mine tasted like glue. These are certainly funny looking arrows.”
“Oh, those are the flaming arrows for the finale. They’re simply fantastic. You don’t have to light them or anything. This little whoozis on the end throws out sparks from air friction and ignites the chemical in this tube. I think Miss Kinsloe said it’s magnesium. We fired some on the range and they’re fabulous. It takes a little more pull. That’s why we restrung the bows.”
Marybeth picked out a bow and pulled at it experimentally. “I see what you mean. This is—” She stopped suddenly and put the bow down.
From somewhere toward the front of the building came the unmistakable rattle of a heavy door being opened and closed. Karen’s brow furrowed. “That’s funny. Mr. Bleecker went out the back way. I heard him leave. Maybe that’s one of the teachers.”
She walked to the door and stepped out into the corridor, peering toward the main aisle. Suddenly she whirled back into the room, slammed the door, and leaned against it, her face pale.
“There’s someone out there, Marybeth,” she said, her voice choking slightly. “It’s a man. He lit a match and I saw him plainly. He... he’s wearing a black leather jacket.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and they stood listening in silence for several moments.
Suddenly Marybeth gave a short, sharp scream of warning. “Karen! The doorknob is turning. You forgot to lock—”
Karen twisted around desperately and fumbled for the catch. It clicked into place just as the knob turned hard and a weight thumped against the door. They both stood transfixed as the knob turned futilely and then stopped. There was no sound from the outer corridor,
“Who is it?” Marybeth called out, her voice quavering. “Who’s out there?”
The only answer was the faint click of metal against metal, and then dead silence. As an ironic counterpoint to the scene they could hear a police siren rising and falling in the distance. They looked hopefully at each other, and then the hope died as the siren faded away.