The Day the Dead Came to Show and Tell by Mira Grant Page B

would normally have laughed at him for using the word “daddy,” and not one of them did. They were all scared. They all wanted their parents. In that moment, “daddy” was probably second only to “mommy” on most of their minds.
    â€œOkay, good.” Miss Oldenburg held out the screwdriver, clearly waiting for him to take it. Finally, fingers shaking, Brian did exactly that. She crouched down and pointed to the restraints holding Scott in place. It would have been difficult to miss the way she positioned herself, far enough back that Scott couldn’t have kicked or scratched her if he’d been trying. It was…it was scary. Added on top of everything else that was going on, it was terrifying . “Do you see how the restraints are connected to the leg of the desk with little screws? If you can undo those, you can let Scott up.”
    â€œI want up, too!” wailed Emily. Her announcement was followed by a string of similar declarations, some of them angry, others mangled by tears and phlegm.
    Miss Oldenburg stood up straight and clapped her hands. The class went instantly silent, staring at her with wide, wary eyes. “All of you need to be quiet and sit still,” she said, in the tone she normally reserved for bad behavior and inattention. “Brian is going to let Scott up. We are going to take Scott to the closet, and we are going to decontaminate his hands and arms. Does anyone know what that means?”
    Sharon put her hand up. Miss Oldenburg nodded to her, and she said, primly, “It means you’re going to use bleach and wipe all the bad stuff away.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Miss Oldenburg. “Right now, Scott is a biohazard. That means that if I touch him, I might have to go away, and then there wouldn’t be any teacher here to help you. So Scott has to come first. Do you understand?”
    Normally, the idea of no teacher would have been a fascinating one, carrying the promise of mischief and excitement. Now, with the alarm still going and Miss Oldenburg wearing her recess coat and long gloves inside the classroom, the idea was terrifying. Several more students began to cry. The rest shook their heads in mute, anxious negation.
    â€œAre you saying you don’t understand, or that you don’t want me to leave?”
    â€œPlease don’t leave,” whispered Jenna. The students around her nodded.
    â€œI don’t want to, Jenna. That’s why Brian has to help me with Scott before we let anybody else up. Brian?” Miss Oldenburg crouched down again. “It’s okay. You can start taking out the screws now.”
    â€œBut I don’t wanna touch a biohazard,” whimpered Brian.
    Miss Oldenburg swallowed her sigh. She couldn’t push too hard, not if she wanted him to actually follow instructions. “He isn’t dangerous to you, Brian. You don’t weigh enough for him to be dangerous to you. That’s why I asked you to be the one to do this very important thing. Because he can’t hurt you, not until you weigh much more than you do right now.” Not that much more, but there was no point in frightening the boy further. Not when he was already looking at the screwdriver in his hands like it was a venomous snake.
    â€œDon’t wanna,” repeated Brian.
    â€œDo you want us to leave Scott here while the rest of us go to safety?” She regretted the words almost immediately, but she was committed now: she couldn’t take them back. “I have another screwdriver. I can let everyone else in this class go free, but I can’t touch Scott, not until he’s been decontaminated. Is that what you want?”
    â€œNo,” whispered Brian.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    This time, Brian didn’t say anything at all. He just nodded miserably, looking at the screwdriver in his hands.
    â€œThen please. Let him out of the chair.”
    â€œOkay,” whispered Brian, and