The electronic chirps were the first thing Mrs. Jordan perceived as she emerged from deep unconsciousness. She became aware of a warm light above her face, turning her vision a soft pink through her closed eyelids.
She opened them.
The room was well-organized, but messy. Drawers overflowed with bandages, medicines, and all varieties of medical supplies. Relaxing country music crackled from an unseen stereo. Mrs. Jordan craned her neck to reveal a barricaded door to her right, efficiently boarded up and reinforced.
Mrs. Jordan jumped a little at the unexpected voice, suddenly noticing the man perched on a chair in the corner.
“Coach Stipe?” Mrs. Jordan gasped, “What’s going on? Where am I?”
“You’re in the sports medicine room,” Stipe replied, “I saw you out there on the tennis courts and patched you up.”
It was then Mrs. Jordan noticed the swath of bandages constricted around her arm.
“But… isn’t that against the rules?”
“I do this every year, and I haven’t been caught yet,” Stipe stated matter-of-factly. “It’s all I know how to do. How would I fight? Throwing Band-Aids at them? I stick to what I know. Do you want some ibuprofen or something?”
Mrs. Jordan shot to her feet wildly.
“No! I don’t want to be caught collaborating, I’ll be disqualified!”
“I told you, I do this every year, and I have never been caught,” Stipe groaned. He gestured to the boarded-up door.
“See that barricade over there? That thing keeps the Teachernator out, and the radio over there emits a frequency that jams Brother Ray’s cameras. I assure you, we are perfectly safe.”
The door shuddered from the blow’s force. Something was knocking.
“This has never happened before!” Coach Stipe gawked, “Something’s wrong…”
Wood caved in as the door was obliterated by a mighty fist. It pulled itself back into the cloud of debris as an imposing figure straightened itself. As it entered the room, a cape of splinters fluttered off of its shoulders. The assailant cracked a sinister smile as it caught sight of its prey.
The KETELSEN-4000 reared its fist back for the killing blow.
Mrs. Jordan, acting quickly, hurled a razor-sharp protractor at the massive Teachernator.
The KETELSEN, acting quicker, effortlessly duck-walked under the projectile.
“We need to get out of here!” Mrs. Jordan hollered to Coach Stipe, before tossing a subtraction grenade at the far wall.
As the dense smoke cleared, the KETELSEN-4000 was dismayed to find that the two faculty members had escaped, and that the wall was now missing a sizable chunk.
As Mrs. Jordan and Coach Stipe ran as far away as they could from their attacker, the morning sun spilled over the horizon.
It was the dawn of the final day.
There were few left. Those who had not yet made their presence known waited patiently in the shadows while the titans clutched at each other’s throats. A unanimous chill shuddered down every faculty member’s spine as the new day rolled over. It was crunch time. The lesser threats had been weeded out. Only the mighty and the crafty remained.
As the sun rose on the final day… the real fighting began.
TO BE CONTINUED…
• • •