<center>[font=Arial, sans-serif]LOCKDOWN[/font]</center>

CHARACTER PHOTOS:
Clara Martin : 1 2 3
Sandra Nestler : 1 2 3
Jake :
Staurt :
Austin :
Bian :

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RAANNNGGGG....CLANK..CLUNK.

The students of Westbrook High all scattered underneath their desks as all of the hardmetal doors were abrutly closed shut. Each student counted to 30, just like every other drill, and, once it ended, they stood up once more to proceed on with class.

This drill was that of a statewide security program installed in New Jersey. It is meant to protect each of the lives of the students and administration inside in the case of any such threat or nuclear attack to come upon the school or the nation.

In the promotion of this installment, the former directors of the board looked to this plan as proposterous. The idea of having hard metal doors, iron bars on the windows, and, to top it all off, all of the furniture and such bolted to the ground made the school sound more like a prison then it ever appeared to be in their lifetimes. However, past the bomb raidings of 2512 throughout a variety of places in the country, the new tactic was immediately installed.

"Please remain in your position and do not panic," the monotone recording system clanged about 22 seconds after the alarm went off, "this was another..."

Scratch. The recording system rewinded to a stop and then began to speak again with a lady narrating, "Students and administration of Westbrook High. It was been notified that there is a supposed threat upon our country. There is no immediate known source of the threat, but do not be alarmed. We will keep you updated throughout the day, and, in all, we will keep you safe during it. With this in mind, the school is on a temporary lockdown from the time being, and it will not be waivered without a change of notification by a legitimate source.

....rrriiinnnggg....

All of the students of Chemistry 0252 rose from their seats, grabbed their books, and headed to their next classes, in particular Clara Martin, the typical drama girl. Running forward, Clara had her Chemistry book and her Alegebra Book huddled in her arms as she caught up to Austin in the hallway between the two classes. "So, what do you think of it?"

"Think of what?" Austin asked, purposely making the initiative to look at Clara's chest.

"The alarm. What do you think? Do you know if anything is wrong?"

"Ehh.. Not that I would care." Shifting her head back and forth and simultaneously rolling her eyes, Clara made it known how annoyed she was at Austin right then. "Hey Clara," he calmed Clara down after seeing the look on her face, "I really don't think anything is wrong. Just another basic stupid school I am going to scare the c.rap out of the students to make them listen thing again. Just pay attention to your..." Austin stopped for a moment and took a glance at the book under Chemistry, "Calculus, and you should be fine."

"It's Algebra 1" Clara corrected him, moving the Chemistry out of the way and shoving the Algebra book in Austin's face, "Don't start thinking I'm that smart."

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"The system is down. It has been hacked," Stuart woaned into the microphone that was wired into his laptop, "The system.."

Jake walked into the room, laughing. Sandra was in the corner of the room. Her chair was turned towards the wall; her head was leaned against it, and she was spouting out insults as the nerd continued to sound different Star Trek comments into his computer. "I just think you may have succeeded in cracking her," Jake let out an airy laugh and watched the sound wave display on the computer screen, "Mind if I give it a try?"

Stuart hestitantly remained motionless for a moment and then slowly scooted the microphone over to Jake. "Come to the dark side, Sandra," Jake gave his best Darth Vader impression, "Come to us."

"Oh shut up!" Sandra yelled back, shooting up and stomping over to the other side of the room while trying not to burst into laughter, "My head hurts and the blasted nurse is sick again. Ok?"

"The force is strong with this one," Jake was able to make out before Sandra whacked him upside on the back of the head, causing both Jake and Stuart to break into laughter. "Come on Sandra," Jake calmed down from laughter and held his hand over the microphone, "We are just trying to have some fun."

"Can you at least try to have some fun without making yourselves looks like idiots?" Sandra asked and sat down helplessly in the seat in back of both Jake and Stuart, "Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot I wasn't supposed to mention your mental ability in front of you."

"Who is being the irritating one now?" Jake questioned to Sandra as he tossed over a bottle of Tylenol, "Try not to overdose ok. I really don't want to have to explain your problem with drugs once again to the administration."

Sandra smiled, knowing there was no way to revert back to Jake's comment and took her two pills of Tylenol. "So," she asked, "What are we going to be up to today in Computers Unlimited?"

"We are making Star Trek and Star Wars sound recordings," Stuart answered, "What does it look like?"

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Clara had rushed into Alegebra 1 a little too quickly. She sat in her desk in the back right corner of the classroom that was completely empty. The teacher had even left for a moment to return about 5 to 10 minutes after the bell rang, just like every other supposed lockdown.

Clara had come to the conclusion that he was a secret part of the staff, after an implied hint by her friend Michael that she has been crushing on for only God knows how long.

"Clara!" Bian ran to snatch the desk right next to Clara. "So.." Bian began shaking her head and shoulders to prepare herself for the next load of gossip that was about ready to spill from her mouth, "I just saw the downright cutest boy, in all of school last period. He is a new kid. I think he transferred from another state, but, believe me, he is... to die for."

Clara's mind immediately snapped into overdrive with the words boy and cute being used in the same sentence. "Ok. I am so going to have to meet him before anything happens, and, if yes, I think it may be time for, yet another, shopping spree." Clara and Bian simultaneously hipped together and turned to face the board in a rehearsed sequence.

A few other students in the class stared at both of them during the process, but the majority of students found it boring and ritualistic. It was when Mr. Jenson walked into the room that the boy gossip and shopping plans reduced to sign language between the two girls. It had taken quite a while for both of them to learn it, but, in the end, they both deemed the misery worthwhile.

"I am sure you all heard the news of the lockdown earlier today," Mr. Jenson announced to the class after the noise reduced to a level he felt comfortable speaking at, "I have been given more information that I am required to share with each of my classes. It appears that the lockdown is from a nationwide security reinforcement. As proceeding conflicts have appeared with other countries throughout the world such as Korea and Iran, and threat coming from each of these countries has caused the government to focus the country on a red alert and bring out the head of the heads to ensure the average American that the government is doing the best they can in this matter. Basically, school is going to be a little longer than 8 hours today."

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"Why? Oh why did I choose to be in my last period with you two?" Sandra complained as she lay down on the floor looking at the ceiling and plugging her ears from the two boys.

The teacher still had not walked into the room, not that he would have to from those three being the only students who elected to take Computer Programming.

"You know. This class was actually interesting when he were learning and not indulging our childish and immature behaviors."

"...and that was when the Yankees won.." Jake yelled into the microphone and both him and Stuart burst into laughter. Their supposed childish and immature sound recordings were coming together quite well for their standards.

"Oh.. we should do one about Sandra," Stuart promoted Jake, who quickly agreed and sat back in his chair to come up with just the right words to say.

"Alright," Jake cleared his throat, "I got it." It was then he sang, "Sandra. Oh Sandra. What are we going to do with you? What are we going to do with you, eh? What are we going to do?"

Sandra's arm flew into the air and collasped back down to her forehead in a sign of disgust as she yelled, "Shoot me. Please."

"Oh come on Sandra," Jake tried to calm her down, "we are just trying to have a bit of fun yelling stuff into the microphone and messing with the voices. What else would you like to do this off class day?"

"There isn't much more of this off class day," Stuart pointed out as his finger directed both Jake and Sandra's eyes towards the clock that was quickly approaching three o' clock, the final bell.

"Thank goodness," Sandra sighed relief.

"Isn't there that lockdown or something?" Jake asked.

"I am sure they have it resolved by now," Staurt answered while turning off and putting away his laptop, "Have we ever had to stay after school for something like this before?"

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Patricia Earnheart, the principle of Westbrook High, was a respectable lady to all of her fellow faculty. She would perform in such ways as seeking out the advice of her staff on what the most rewarding policy would be to better the lives and futures of the students.

The typical affair that would pass by her desk for around the past four weeks has been a solution to the overwhelming cost of water. It was apparent that, at the end of March, there was a problem that could best known as a leakage in the pipes. However, after much searching, pricking, and prodding no such leak was found, and the problem has thus been modified to that of a group of rebellious students. For today, on the other hand, the top of the input stack is a matter of the purpose and solution of the lockdown the school was currently in.

Ms. Earnheart sat in her rolling blue, cushion chair with her legs crossed under the long, wooden table, and her hands gently laid upon the table and held together by a slight intertwining of the fingers. Her eyes peered through her modern, librarian-style glasses to each invacant seat, taking in the name, approximate age, and employed position of each attending faculty member.

"Today we are called her for a new pressing matter," her voice resounded throughout the conference room in haste only moments after the final seat, Mr. Jenson, was filled, "as I am sure you all are award, this school is currently on a temporary lockdown as called forth by the central government (it was not directly called by the government as much as the country was put on a red alert which, by contract, immediately sent Westbrook High into lockdown mode). I will, first, go through whta we all know and then proceed to speak of new updated information that I have recieved rather recently. To begin, this lockdown was brought about because the governent was recieving threats, that were believed to be true, of bomb raidings to take place in the near future. For policy, this lockdown means that no student or faculty member will be allowed to leave this building and no one from the outside will be allowed to enter, no exceptions. Our job right now is to protect the students of Westbrook High." Ms. Earnheart paused for a moment to catch her breath and took a sip of water to prevent any further drying of the mouth. "Where was I? Oh yes, we need to protect the students and ourselves. That is our number one priority, but, I must continue beyond this point. I have recently been sent an update that will affect the status of our lockdown," Ms. Earnheart stopped once more. She was not the best public speaker, and she never declared herself to be. Even in this little conference, one could hear a slight rattling sound coming from Ms. Earnheart's fingernails tapping repeated at the wooden table.

Patricia took a deep breath as she, once again, looked into the eyes of a variety of the faculty present. She knew that they were all coming up with their own ideas of what was happening in their heads. Some believed it to be good and, in addition, abrupted a slight smile upon their faces, but other presumed worry which, unfortunately, Ms. Earnheart knew was the correct approach. "As a school body, we have not noticed the fear and heartache outside of these walls because of the automatic filtering system that was set in place when the safety preparation system was installed. However, outside of these walls, the reason behind this lock down has expanded to fact. I mean, the threat of a bomb has has transformed into," Ms. Earnheart set a split second aside to take a tiny breath, "what I regret to say, a bomb raid. I am afraid that we are going to have to stay here for quite a while longer until the situation improves outside of these walls."

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The meeting was adjurned with each individual falucty member running the possibilities of the future through his head. Each member walked unemotionally, with only the physical presence being noticed. It looked as if a child's nightmare of zombies in school had come to be true.

Patricia did not leave with the rest of the group. Instead, she sat, head to desk. The situation around her was unheard of, and the probability it would happen under her leadership was emmensely small, in her opinion, but, to a true statistician, it was rather likely from the other events that had taken place.

"Suck it in, Patricia," she instructed herself as she finally pulled the chair away from the table about four to five minutes after the last of the teachers had left through the door, "you have got to be strong. You have got to be an example to everyone in this time, and... you are not ready for this." Patricia had strolled to the nearest wall in correspondence with picking her emotions up, but, once the truth sunk in, she proceeded to lightly slam her head to the wall, in hopes of forgetting her life, her past, and not being able to fulfill her future in this matter.

It was unlucky for her that this had not come to be. Another teacher by the name of Joman had rushed in the room. He was from a small town in Utah, and he was training to be a Chemistry teacher. "Ma'am! Ma'am!" he shouted to Patricia, arms flying through the air, "We need to... out there. Now. The students are in shock, and they all want to leave."

"They can't leave, Joman."

"I know. They aren't allowed to, but they want to."

"No, I mean. They physically cannot leave. The doors, windows, and every other exit you can possibly think of is sealed shut. No in. No out."

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