they stormed in

They stormed in. Clad in black. Armed with technology that was the latest, in use by the most advanced armed forces on the land. The message sent out to the public would be that they were armed with mismatching gear and technology. That they were ragtag. It would be a small blip. Not drawing attention to the message. Just putting it out there. For if you were to know the truth, you might begin to wonder, who had armed them. And the state could not allow dissent or for it to be questioned.

They stormed in. Quiet. Lithe. Panthers. Well trained. The only thing that distinguished them from the security establishments world over was that they all had standard religious length beards. They didn’t need insignias or badges. Their coat of arms was hanging beneath their chins. Their barracks were in the heavens. Or so they believed.

The bell had just rung a while back. Students were shifting in their seats. Pent up energy not yet consumed. Their teachers sighed as they put their books on their desks. The period after break was the worst. At least they were only not paying attention before break. After, they were fidgety. Rebellious. It was as if little devils had gotten into all of them. The whole lot.

Two closed the front doors. They locked them with a rod that looked like it was made of steel, bent over and then tied into a knot. There were six in all. One by one, they closed the other three doors. They had studied the building plans in advance.

Fifteen minutes after the bell had rung, the students had finally settled down. A calm had descended over the elementary school. A calm tinged with a hint of danger. Kids seem to have more attuned senses. They can’t exactly explain them. But they are more in touch with the currents of the aura. As they grow older, their senses become dumbed down. Become fuller. From lack of use. And lack of belief.

Sixteen minutes after the bell had rung, they were finally at the start of the plan. They were about to begin.

The students were still in their seats when the shots rang out. They were shocked. They were the sons and daughters of those in the armed forces. They knew what shots sounded from weapons like. Then the first screams began. And crowd animals as we are, they all began to scream.

People began to rush out of the halls. Bullets stopped them dead. Literally. Bullets tore through their skin. They stopped. Fell down. And were dead. One teacher, four children. Students and teachers rushed out of their classrooms, and rushed back in.

The six who had come in, were nervous, sweat forming inside their uniforms. They couldn’t show it, of course, and those outside wouldn’t know. But they were nervous. And they followed the plan.

The smell of rancidity and fear hung heavy in the air. The sun was covered by thick black clouds. There were silence, other than the few splatters of gunfire. Children were trembling. Feeling cold.

In the end 132 schoolchildren between the ages of eight and eighteen were killed, and 17 of the school staff.