Tom grabbed Syd by the elbow, pulling her to a stop. As soon as they'd gotten out of the classroom they'd taken off down the hall, around the corner, down the stairs... And so on. He didn't actually know for sure, but now they were in the front lobby.

And they were alone.

No Eddie.

No Fred.

No Suzanne.

No anyone.

Did they make it out of that blazing death trap? Would the whole school burn down around them? Somehow, he didn't really think so. If the ghost — Melody was her name apparently — wanted them to burn to death, he had no doubt that they would. If she was strong enough to create a dark fog big enough to shroud the entire school building, than she was probably strong enough to keep it from burning down.

Tom hoped so, anyway. The irony of it almost made him laugh. Here I am, hoping that the ghost that's trying to kill us is going to keep us alive.

Still, he had to wonder why. Why start the fire in the first place? To scare them out? To separate them? Well if that was the case, then it worked.

"Where are the others?" Syd asked, panting. She was hunched over, her hands on her knees. Out of breath from their mad dash away from the fire. She wasn't the only one.

Jesus, but he could use a drink. He shook his head, licking his dry lips. "They probably went the other way."

"Then they're together, right?"

He nodded, but said nothing. Anyone with even the vaguest knowledge of horror films knew the first basic rule: Stay together.

Well, he thought, we certainly blew that, didn't we? "Fuck," he muttered, his sudden frustration and anger heating to a boil. Then louder he said, "Fuck it all to hell!" He wanted to hit something, throw something, break something. But he had nothing, so he punched the wall. He felt his knuckles split, felt the sharp sting, but the pain seemed insignificant compared to everything else. He hit the wall again, and again, yelling wordlessly.

Syd's hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he hit the wall one last time. The part of the plaster wall that he'd chosen to decimate now had holes and blood all over it, and his knuckles were a bloody and bruised throbbing mess. He hissed as the pain finally registered. "Fuck," he cursed again, his voice slightly hoarse from yelling.

When he looked at Syd, she was trembling. He frowned. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she seemed almost pale — or as pale as someone with her dark skin tone could be. "Hey, what—?"

"I don't think we're going to get out through the front door," she said, voice shaky. She wasn't looking at him, and he followed her gaze to the front door.

No, he realized, as he saw a grinning face leering at him from the floor.

Syd wasn't looking at the way out.

She was looking at the gory dismembered body of one of their classmates. May Jacobi.

He had been so busy catching his breath, and then beating the shit out of the wall, he hadn't noticed the mess.

How many does this make? Three? First Tru, then Mr. Hougan, and now May... Just my fucking luck. Am I some kind of corpse magnet or something? He shuddered, his stomach churning and twisting in on itself. Though the urge to throw up remained decidedly absent. Jesus, what's wrong with me? Am I getting used to this now? Is that it? Fuck...

Still, they needed to at least try the doors. If there was any change they could get out and get help... Well, wouldn't it be worth it to try? He swallowed, and slowly made his way towards the exit.

"What are you doing!?"

He looked back at Syd, who looked ready to puke. "I'm going to try the front doors."

"Why!? It's obviously a trap! Just look at—" She didn't finish, and turned away.

Tom only hesitated for a second before answering. "It's a chance I'm willing to take if it means getting out of here and getting help."

"What if it's locked?"

"What if it isn't?" He shot back, then turned to the doors again, continuing towards them. May's severed head grinned up at him from the floor, her cheeks pinned back with paper clips. Just like Mr. Hougan.

He averted his eyes, looking for places to step that weren't covered in blood. They were few and far between, and he knew no matter how hard he tried, he was going to get blood on his boots. His stomach twisted further, if that was possible, and he turned his gaze to the ceiling.

He could barely breathe through the coppery stench. Though there was no hint of decay in the air, at least not yet. "Fuck it," he growled, striding purposefully toward the doors, his steps squelching through the blood. The floor was slick under his feet, but he refused to look down. Bile burned the back of his throat, but he swallowed, forcing it back down. Ah, so I'm still human after all, but no time for that now.

Tom reached for the doors, then hesitated. He stared at his hands, steady as rocks... Or am I? What kind of person can remain this calm in a situation like this? Or does this just make me a good-in-a-crisis person?

He looked up.

He could see outside, the sun was shining brightly on the snow, the chill frosting the outside edges of the glass. The road leading back into town disappeared into the trees. If he didn't know better, he'd say the road was taunting him. So close, yet so far. Where have I heard that before?

He shook his head. Focus! We need to get out of here!

His fingers closed around the two metal push-bars, and he pushed. They didn't move an inch. He pulled, nothing.

The doors were completely frozen in place, didn't even rattle in their frames when he tried to shake them. He took a couple steps back, bracing himself before throwing himself at the glass of the right-hand door. He hit it hard, the push-bar digging into his side. He bounced off harmlessly, and he could feel a bruise forming where he had hit the bar.

He growled several choice curses under his breath, kicking the door hard in frustration. He might as well have kicked a brick wall, the only effect he had was on his foot. He cursed at the pain in his toes, and he slammed a fist into the glass with all his might.

Nothing.

He froze, staring at where his skin rested against the glass door.

It was hot to the touch. He jerked his hand away as soon as he felt the sting of the burn, and his skin came away a little redder than before.

"Okay," he said, shaken. "That's definitely not locked in the normal way. That's a ghost lock. Shit." He mumbled several other curses under his breath, limping away from the doors.

It was the middle of winter, the glass doors should've been freezing, but instead they were hot? But then what about the frost on the outside? Or was it only hot on the inside?

Tom let out a shaky breath. That ghost was really having a fucking field day with them.

When he got back to Syd, he grabbed her by the arm and started guiding her down the hall and away from the front entrance. "You were right," he said. "That was definitely a stupid idea."

"Why? What happened? What's wrong with the doors?"

He explained to her about the solidity of the bars, how they seemed more wall than door, and how the glass had burned his skin. As they marched down the hallway and around the corner, he glanced down at the pinkish skin of his hand. A mild burn, hardly worth mention.

"So should we look for the others?" Syd asked.

Tom looked at her, and nodded. "Yeah," he decided. "Sounds like a solid plan. We still need a way out though..."

The front door was definitely out of the question. Melody was smart. She'd blocked the doors, so she would've blocked the windows as well. They'd thought of phones, but the one in Mr. Hougan's room had been completely decimated. It was unlikely that Melody wouldn't've destroyed the others.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

"Mr. Hougan..."

"What?"

He shook his head. "Mr. Hougan. We found his body too, remember? What about the other teachers? And the staff?"

Syd nodded, her expression thoughtful. "What do you s'pose are the chances that they're still alive?"

Slim, but wouldn't it be worth a check? He shook his head. "Honestly, I doubt it, but what the hell, right?"

She snorted. "Right."

Then she pulled his arm around her shoulders. He twitched in surprise, his initial instinct being to pull away. She didn't let him. She glared at him, dark eyes looking directly into his. They were of a height (him being barely two inches taller), so there was no need to crane his neck to meet her gaze head on. "You're the idiot that decided to kick the magically locked door," she told him, her tone bordering on being scolding.

He blinked at her. "Seriously? I can walk just fine." Though that was bull shit, and they both knew it.

"Right," she said as they rounded another corner. "Keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, let's head to the cafeteria. Maybe the lunch lady's still breathing."

"She's not."

Tom jumped, and under his arm Syd stiffened, her eyes going wide with sudden panic. They both looked up at the source of the voice. His jaw dropped.

"You're still alive," Syd said.

Didi sat in the middle of the hallway, criss-cross-applesauce, her back to them.

In front of her, was another one of Melody's messes. Arms, legs, hands and feet, all over the place. Blood, intestines, what could've been a stomach.

And the head with its cheeks pinned back with paperclips. It took him a second to recognize this face, but he did recognize it.

It was Cliff.