Outside, he walked to the west building and pulled out the keys. He chose a small one and put it into the lock. There was a ‘click’ and the door opened. ‘That was lucky!’ he said. Inside, there was another door. He pushed it open. There was a corridor and some stairs. ‘Usually offices are upstairs,’ he thought. He climbed the stairs.
On the second floor, he found more empty classrooms and a staff room. ‘No phone here,’ he said and continued to the third floor. There, at the top of the stairs, sat a reception desk with offices behind it. There was also a black leather sofa and four chairs around it. He walked up to the desk and saw a red phone. ‘Great,’ he said and picked it up. He listened. There was no tone. It didn’t work. He slammed it down and looked for another in the offices. But for every phone, it was the same: no tone. None of them worked.
He sat down on the black leather sofa. ‘Now what?’ he said to himself. ‘I don’t have a mobile phone and there isn’t a public phone around here. How can I….’ He stopped and stared. He could not believe his eyes. There, on the little table in front of the sofa, was an old newspaper from two years ago. Mr. Green recognized it immediately. Above a black and white photograph of the burned classrooms, the headline said, ‘Teacher Killed as Fire Destroys Classrooms’.
Mr. Green stared.
There was another picture – of Mr. Green. The headline said, ‘Janitor questioned by police over fire.’
‘Where did this come from? Why is it…?’ shouted Mr. Green, but he didn’t finish his question. The sound of footsteps stopped him.
There was someone on the stairs.