by F. F. John
He stares their way and frowns. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Seth walks up to us, interrupting my train of thought. He takes a swig from the champagne flute in his left hand and follows it up with a long swig from the large bottle in his right hand.
“You thought I brought one for you, right?” He cackles.
“Aren’t you the one who didn’t want to come here? You look like you’re having more fun than the rest of us,” I taunt.
Seth takes another gulp from the glass and the bottle. “I’m disobeying the rules already, so I might as well enjoy myself while doing it.” The music from below changes to a song he likes and he soars in the air to the rhythm. Liquid sloshes over the lip of his glass, dripping to the floor.
He screeches along to the song’s lyrics and Erhart cringes while I protect my ears with flattened palms.
My suitemate steps into the space between us and croaks even louder, prompting Erhart to say as he slinks off. “Nice talking to you, Invier.”
Seth is still swaying to the music when Mehrdad yells, “This song sucks! Turn it off and get me a DJ.”
A waitress hustles to a comm panel on the wall and relays his command. Three beats later, the suite is silent.
“A DJ is on the way, Scion Mehrdad,” she says with a bow.
The quiet drowns Seth’s bright smile. “Did you not see me enjoying that? Put it back on.”
“You’re drunk, Seth Talum,” Mehrdad says, his eyes on a waitress as she tips a neon yellow liquid into a goblet.
“Maybe if you were drunk, you’d be having enough fun not to mess up mine.” Seth retorts. “Miss? Please pour that baka a strong drink.”
Without a word, she pours a concoction of liquids into a glass. Mehrdad accepts the drink and recoils when he sniffs it.
“Don’t be a wuss,” Seth calls to him.
Mehrdad raises his glass and knocks back its contents in one long swill.
“Yeah! More!” Seth cheers as do Ika, James, and Erhart.
The waitress stirs another drink and he downs that one as well. Shot glasses fill and hands reach out for them.
The thought of dragging drunk participants back to our quarters is unsettling.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Invier
Voices draw my eyes to the suite’s door. The new DJ and her friends saunter into the room, all smiles. In no time, tunes fill the air. I sink into one of the sofas as the DJ’s friends pull my fellow competitors to their feet to dance. I decline an invite and opt for a drink.
Girls stroll in and head straight for the food and drinks. In no time, they are in the thick of things, dancing.
Ika collapses onto the sofa beside me, rattling on about clothes, shoes, and something called a collection. I refuse to indulge in his vapid discussion and instead, casually the room.
Erhart leans on a wall, head bobbing to the music. In one corner, James is entwined with a waitress, hands roving. It would be indecent to look too closely at what they are doing so I glance away. Still, how appropriate is it for a James to kiss other girls? Portan never mentioned that as a disqualification, though James may be violating the spirit of the Pursual.
Four girls surround Seth. He’s mid-sentence when they mosey off, leaving him to mope. With a hearty shrug of his shoulders, he takes another swig of his drink and dances on his own.
A girl joins Ika and I, squeezing between us. After she determines I have no interest in conversing, she turns to Ika, giggling at everything he says, no matter how dumb. Why should anyone care how many pairs of shoes he has? Apparently, she finds his five hundred shoes “fascinating.” Who needs that many shoes?
Having had enough of Ika and his impressionable friend, I go to the window and take in the party below. Two blonde girls launch into the air with broad grins, their hair eddying like fluttering silk. Flailing arms at the corner of my eyes cause me to stiffen. Something about the movement is wrong.
Masked men push their way into the crowd. The muzzles of their large guns flash. People topple to the floor, immediately trampled by others seeking to avoid harm. The DJ’s head is lowered, his attention on his turntables. The dancers around him, however, dive to safety.
“Look out,” I yell in vain. A bullet tears into him and he looks up, stunned. Realization doesn’t kick in soon enough before he slams backward from another shot.
“What’s wrong?” Seth comes close. Once he sees the pandemonium, he says, “It’s time to go, guys.” Instantly sober.
Something taps against the glass. A metal pellet is lodged into the pane right where my nose is and I flinch, terror building in me.
“Guess that guy wasn’t kidding about bulletproof glass,” Seth murmurs and heads for the door.
An assailant grabs a companion and points at me. They raise their weapons and let off more shots. I back away as more projectiles sink into the glass, spreading fractured lines in a growing web that threatens to lay waste to the protection that has kept us safe.
Seth is reaching for the door handle when it bursts open. It’s the man in sunglasses. He marches over to the DJ’s table and pulls a cord that brings silence. “Scion Cyra, there’s a problem and I have to get you all out of here.”
A waitress is on Mehrdad’s lap, coyly whispering in his ear when he pushes her off. She topples to the floor with a scowl. “Situation report?” He’s all business.
“The club is under attack.”
Mehrdad sneers. “No one would dare.”
“Well, they did. It’s crazy down there,” I say, pointing to the glass.
Mehrdad, James and Ika race to take a look and are soon satisfied that the situation is grave.
“Get me out of here.” Ika is already running past Sunglasses Man, who puts out a burly hand. Ika bounces back and lands on his backside as the man taps his ear comm to receive a message.
Without sparing a glance at Ika, he walks over to the wall comm. After pressing some buttons, a section pops out and he pulls out two guns. “I’ll take one.” Mehrdad snatches a gun. If Mehrdad’s rude grabbing of the gun unnerved him, the man doesn’t show it. Instead, he punches additional buttons on the wall. There’s a long beep before he says, “I have Scion Cyra and his friends.”
“They aren’t just his friends, Sunga, they are all Scions from the Twenty.” The commotion in the background bleeds through the conversation. “I need them taken safely to the copter pad. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Sunga says and ends the call.
I scan our suite, realizing that someone is missing. “What about Adela? We can’t leave without her.”
Back on his feet, Ika gnaws at a fingernail before shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “It doesn’t make sense to risk all of our lives for one single person,” he says. “Besides, she’s a Seltan. They know everything. She probably knew this was coming and left us behind.” He scoops a bottle of champagne and takes a pull from it. “If I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter. She’s a tough girl. She can take care of herself.”
Sunga looks at each of us. “He’s right, we must move now.” He cocks the gun’s barrel back. “The longer we wait, the worse our chances of getting you to safety.”
“You know how to use that?” he asks Mehrdad in a no-nonsense tone.
Mehrdad’s terse nod is equally serious.
Sunga opens the door slowly and motions us to follow. Directly behind him is Mehrdad, who has Ika and James by him. Seth, Erhart, and I at the rear.
“What about us?” The DJ rushes to the door.
“The room’s bulletproof and nobody can get in here. You will be safe,” Sunga replies. They all shrink back in and shut the door with a click.
He opens a side door in the hallway and leads us into a messy storage room. Barrels of paint stand stacked from floor to ceiling. He then slips into a tight space behind them and when it’s my turn, I duck, careful to avoid hitting a rusting pipe that runs low enough to knock someone’s head off.
&
nbsp; We push deeper into a tight hallway with inset ceiling lights that illuminate the way. Red and gold carpeted stairs muffle our footsteps as we jog down a level. Dull pops of gunfire come to us from somewhere in the building. Though nowhere close, Ika jumps at each one.
Our guide reaches a gray door with a shiny silver handle. He puts a finger to his lips and we all still. Even Ika manages to stem his anxiety despite the cacophony of additional gunfire. Sunga places an ear on the door then depresses the handle. Hinges creak, but not too loudly. Nevertheless, I balk, wishing this old building had been updated with soft slide doors like the ones in modern structures. He waves us over and some of us gasp.
We’ve stepped into a passage cluttered with bodies.
My brain struggles to comprehend the carnage before me. All I see are blood splattered walls and human beings strewn at odd angles. How did they end up dead in this hallway?
“Come on, Invier,” Seth whispers and grabs me by the arm to keep me moving. Waitresses in pink are interspersed amongst the dead. Their bright uniforms make them hard to miss even though I want to see anything other than their lifeless bodies. One girl with black hair lies still with a stunned death mask. I avert my gaze but it lands on her blood-covered pink wig. The middle of Erhart’s back becomes my focal point.
Another series of doors and hallways come and go. So too do the sounds of expelled cartridges and pained screams. I’m stunned at the complex maze Fenix is housed in. It’s been almost ten minutes since we left our suite and we’re still not at the copter pad yet.
“How much longer?” The fierce whisper is from Ika and Sunga ignores him. I wish I could whack him. Shouldn’t he know that he needs to be quiet?
Without warning, Sunga’s fist goes into the air, making us freeze. Feet smack the carpet from a corridor ahead that cuts across the one we’re in. He crouches, gun pointed straight ahead. Mehrdad takes point beside him and the rest of us make ourselves as small as we can in the open passageway.
If the approaching stranger looks to their left for long enough, we’re screwed. We could end up lucky, however. The stranger could be like us—trying to get out of Fenix. The alternative—an armed assailant—would lower our chances of getting to the copter pad unharmed.
My body chills as the footsteps near. A man in blue jeans speeds past, not giving us a glance. A door opens and slams shut, leaving the hallway silent.
We all heave a collective sigh of relief. With the gun still outstretched in unwavering hands, Sunga stands and we inch across the perpendicular hallway. A man screams, “Minim” and the crack of shots drum my ears.
For a moment, I wish this was a Pursual competition, where such a scene would only mean virt death. Alas, this is the real world and a well-placed projectile will spell extinction. Fueled by adrenaline, I rush out of the exposed hallway, pushing Erhart in the process. We plunge to the floor without getting hit. Leaping to my feet, I run behind the rest, but Sunga stays behind, one knee on the floor. Waiting. I sprint past and soon get to the front of the group.
Behind me, someone fires one shot, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the impact. They’re still closed when there’s the thump of a body hitting the carpet. I spin around to see Sunga is casually jogging to us.
“This way!” He goes down another corridor. This one is, thankfully, empty. He finally stops and announces, “We’re here.”
With a loud grunt, he pushes open a red door. Stairs lead to a night sky with thin clouds that hide the stars. I scope out the wide rooftop. Doors line the periphery. At the moment, they’re all closed and I mutter a prayer that they remain that way. At the middle of the rooftop’s floor is a blue square.
“Where’s our ride?” James asks as Sunga clicks on his ear comm. He closes his eyes in a grimace and says, “That’s unacceptable. With two weapons, our position is indefensible. We can’t fight our way out of this …” He breaks off, listening. Finally, he says, “Two minutes it is.”
“Two minutes? Why that long?” Ika paces, fingernails to his teeth.
“Relax!” Mehrdad says with a frown.
Seth hunches over, hands on his knees and his back rises and falls. Ika hunches with his head in his hands. I examine the rooftop to make sure the doors are still closed. Once confirmed, I turn to the group and say, “I’m not comfortable leaving Adela.”
“Not this again,” Mehrdad grumbles before whirling around to face me. “Adela Seltan will be fine and if not, it won’t be our fault. She shouldn’t have left us.”
“Why not? You said we’d be safe because Fenix is run by your relatives!” I say.
Seth straightens and stands between us. “Let’s all stay calm.”
At that moment, a loud buzzing sound drifts towards us.
Ika’s pacing slows. “Oh, thank the heavens.”
I let out a tense breath that’s swallowed by a wind gust.
A creaking noise cuts through the blustering breeze and we pivot toward an opening door. There’s a masked man in a doorway. He yells something that is whisked off into Ghitu’s night while Sunga’s gun poises, ready to shoot.
In a blink, the masked man pulls out a gun of his own. Something whistles past me and I wince at a sharp pang at my neck. The air is knocked out of me and I pitch to one knee. My hand goes to my neck and it’s covered in blood. Seth, already flat on the ground, tugs at my pants. “Get down!” He forces me flat.
When the bullets cease flying, the shooter lies on the ground, wedging open the door. Sunga and Mehrdad jog over and pull the body out of the door’s way.
“Blazes! Are you okay?” Worry lines Seth’s forehead.
Stunned, all I can do is clamp my hand over my injury as the airship descends onto the blue square.
“Let’s go!” Sunga orders. “Those gunshots will bring more of them.”
The fear of even more excruciating pain gets me running. Seth pushes forward ahead of me, while Mehrdad rushes up front with Sunga. James, Erhart and Ika race directly in front of me.
Mehrdad, James, and Ika hop on, while Seth and Erhart push me into the airship and Seth scrambles in after me. I sit, grateful to be a step closer to leaving this hell hole.
“Where’s Erhart?” I yell but soon see him on the ground. Like the dead we passed in the hallways, his expression is frozen in surprise. A cold chill cascades down my spine. He was right behind me, helping me into the ship. How can he be dead?
“Pull him in!” I jump from my seat and head to the door.
“No, it’s time to get out of here!” Sunga pushes me back into my seat and clicks my seatbelt in place. “The shooter could be …” He stills and we all follow his gaze. Out on the rooftop, a tall white-haired girl is running towards us.
“Don’t shoot! It’s Adela!” Seth says.
“There’s a hoard of those bakas coming,” she warns as she tumbles in. “It’s time to go.”
A door opens and is soon crowded by yelling shooters. Sunga hops in and the door slides into place. Bullets thud into the ship’s exterior and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping none of them break in.
Poor Erhart watches us go.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Invier
“And you left his body there?”
Titan Reffour is furious. A vein in his forehead stands out prominently. Although it’s after three in the morning, he’s dressed in a formal gray suit. His jet-black hair stands in wild directions. Behind him is Portan, hands on his walking stick, shoulders slumped. He’s in bedclothes and his hair looks equally disheveled.
This is the scene that awaited us upon our return: Reffour Estate on high alert and its Titan struggling to maintain his cool. Our absence wasn’t appreciated. Not to mention, seven of us left but only six currently sit in the lounge.
Mehrdad gives Adela a pointed glare. “Considering we didn’t want to end up like him, yes, we left him there.”
“What was that look for?” The corners of her eyes crinkle.
“Isn’t it obvious? I think you shot Erhart.” Mi
schief ripples over Mehrdad’s features. “Or, are you going to tell us it’s just a coincidence you disappeared to conveniently find your way to us right after he got shot?”
“You little baka—” She rises with a start, her chair flipping backward.
Titan Reffour slams his fist on a table. “Adela!” His tone has the expected result. She drops back into her seat, eyes still on Mehrdad.
The Titan sucks in air, then says, “Did you kill Scion Vesta?”
She spins to face him. “No.”
Mehrdad’s scoff is dismissive. “She probably killed him so there’d be one less person with higher points than her.” Now he gives me a sideways glance. “That’s why you also got shot.”