by Aaron Hodges
But Francesca’s struggles were already weakening, and her wings had fallen still. She managed to roll onto her back, but now her eyes were red and a trail of blood ran from her mouth and nose. Her neck was an awful tint of purple.
Liz pressed her hand to her mouth and watched as Francesca staggered to her knees. Her blood red eyes stared at Liz, tight with agony, filled with hate. She almost made it to her feet, but her strength finally gave up. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and with a long, drawn out moan, she toppled face first to the ground.
Liz shivered as she stared at Francesca’s lifeless body. She glanced across as Jasmine stirred nearby. Shaking off her horror, she moved across and offered her friend a shoulder. They both took care not to let their skin touch.
“Good job,” Jasmine gasped as she put a hand around Liz’s shoulder.
Liz nodded. “Sorry... about this,” she offered lamely.
“Feels like you hit me in the head with a brick,” Jasmine coughed. Inexplicably, there were tears in her eyes. “Where’s the others?”
CHAPTER 30
Stars flashed across Chris’s vision as Paul’s meaty fist collided with his chin. Blindly, he raised his hands in front of his chest and another blow connected with his arm. Chris deflected it with a flick of his wrist, then spinning on his heel, he drove a back kick into the space where he hoped Paul was standing. It connected with a soft thud, and he heard a satisfying whoosh as Paul’s lungs emptied.
The force of the kick pushed Chris off-balance, and he took a quick step back to recover. The stars faded from his vision and he found Paul half-doubled over. As their eyes met, Paul’s lips drew back in a snarl and he straightened. Black wings stretched out to either side of him, dwarfing Chris’s own. His wingspan had to be close to thirty feet wide.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Paul,” he shouted, “Come with us. Let Sam explain what happened.”
Paul laughed. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll listen to him…as I tear those pretty wings from his back,” growling, he took a step towards Chris, and then froze.
His eyes widened, and a groan rattled from his chest. His wings drooped and started to shake. Over the pounding of blood in his ears, Chris heard someone screaming, and shot a glance behind him.
His fight with Paul carried him to the opposite side of the stage, but the others were still grouped near the fire exit. Liz was still on her feet, while nearby Jasmine crouched on her hands and knees. Ashley stood beside the lectern, her lips parted, staring back at Chris in terror.
And Francesca was lying face down on the floor, unmoving.
Chris turned back as Paul gave a strangled growl, but he was too late to block the foot that lashed out and caught him in the chest. He felt something go crack, then Chris was tumbling backwards, landing with a bone-jarring thud. Sucking in a breath, he gasped as a sharp pain came from his lungs. Tasting blood in his mouth, he spat it out.
Across the stage, Paul leapt after him, and Chris quickly rolled and came back to his feet. Paul’s grey eyes followed him, devoid of humanity, all hint of compassion drained away. He was Chead now, consumed by his anger, driven by a hatred that swept all before it. Teeth bared, he stalked after Chris.
Bracing himself, Chris let him come. Every movement brought another jab from his chest, but he forced it from his mind. As the distance between them closed, Chris leapt, his foot flicking out to catch the larger boy square in the jaw. Paul’s head whipped back and he staggered, but to Chris’s shock, he did not fall. Instead, Paul straightened, a dark grin spreading across his face. Before Chris could retreat, Paul’s fist flashed out and caught him in the chest.
Chris groaned as the blow connected with his broken rib. He felt something inside him tear. Struggling to breathe through the pain, he doubled up and tried to retreat. But Paul was not about to let him recover. The boy came after him, fists raised to beat Chris into the ground.
Chris gritted his teeth and spread his wings. Turning, he leapt into the air, even as the shard in his chest tore deeper. But before he could lift off, something slammed into his left wing and dragged him back down. Crashing face first into the ground, he tried to rise, but Paul landed on his spine, driving him back into the carpet.
“Going so soon?” Paul grated in a rusty voice.
For a second the pressure on Chris’s back relented. Then Paul’s boot came crashing down on his wing, and a pain unlike anything Chris had felt before shot down the length of the new limb. He heard something go crack as Paul lifted his boot and stomped down again. A terrible scream tore from his throat, and he tried to roll away. But with his wing pinned beneath Paul’s boot, there was no escape. An evil grin spread across the boy’s face as he ground Chris’s wing into the floor.
Then with a blood-curdling scream, Ashley slammed into Paul and hurled him across the room. Her white wings flared out as she stood over Chris like a guardian angel, her red hair streaming down around her shoulders, her tawny yellow eyes glowing like tiny moons.
Paul staggered back to his feet, his stone-grey eyes flashing with rage. Blood trickled from his mouth, but reaching up, he wiped it away and shook his head.
“Run away, little girl,” he hissed, “Maybe I will let you live.”
Ashley laughed in his face. “Go on then.”
Paul’s lips drew back in a snarl. Growling, he charged. At five-foot-one, Ashley looked like a child beside Paul’s six-foot-six, but she stood her ground. The fear had gone from her eyes – in its place was a cool determination, an unyielding will in the face of the boy’s fury.
At the last second before Paul struck, Ashley leapt, her white wings beating down to lift her tiny frame into the air. Paul staggered past beneath her, and folding her wings, she slammed her heel down on the back of his neck.
Off-balance, the blow sent Paul toppling to the ground. Grinning, Ashley landed gracefully behind him. She crossed her arms and watched him stagger back to his feet, a soft smile on her lips. Her amber eyes were aflame as she waited for him to make his next move.
Chris looked around as movement came from nearby. Liz crouched beside him, her brow creased with concern. Jasmine had one arm draped over her shoulder, but Chris was relieved to see she was okay. Her eyes were slightly glazed, but otherwise there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her.
“Are you alright?” Liz asked.
His chest tightened. He took a deep breath, and felt the broken rib pressing against his lungs. His left wing hung limp beside him, twisted at an awful angle. Looking around, he saw the last students struggling to hold back the soldiers. They only had seconds before the men broke through.
Looking into Liz’s eyes, Chris shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the thumb drive and pressed it into her palm. “Take it, get out of here.”
“What?” Liz’s eyes widened as she saw the thumb drive. She shook her head. “No, we’re not leaving you, Chris. Come on, get up, there’s still time.”
Chris staggered to his knees. Pain radiated through his body, robbing him of strength, but he reached out and gripped Liz by the shoulder. “I can’t fly, Liz,” he croaked, “He broke my wing. If I come with you, they’ll catch us all.”
“Then they catch us all,” Liz said.
Her eyes hardened, and she started to stand, but Chris caught her by the wrist and pulled her back down.
“No, Liz,” he blinked back tears, “You need to live. You need to show the world what’s on that drive, tell them what they did to us. Make all this mean something.”
“But what about you?” Liz’s voice cracked, and her eyes shone with unspilt tears. “I can’t leave you like this. I… I love you, Chris.”
Chris squeezed her wrist. Pulling her forward, he kissed her, hard and fast. His heart started to race, and for a second his pain lessened. But when they broke apart, it returned two-fold. Biting back a scream, he gathered his feet beneath him and stood.
“I love you too, Liz,” he stroked her cheek. “But you have to go.”
Grimacing, Chris shook his head. “No, Liz. I won’t let them take me, not this time.” He forced himself to turn away. If he stared into her eyes any longer, he would never be able to do what was needed.
“Chris…” she croaked from behind him.
“Go, Liz,” he said again, swallowing his grief, “I’ll distract him, so Ashley can follow you. Go!”
Across the room, Ashley was running rings around Paul. Every time he went for her, she would dance clear, and he would stagger as she landed another blow. As they watched, Paul leapt at her again, and received a fist to the face and a knee to the groin for his efforts. Wheezing, he fell to the ground as Ashley leapt back.
Chris steeled himself and moved away from Liz and Jasmine without looking back. Silently, he hoped Liz would listen, but there was no time left for discussion. Studying the two fighters, he searched for an opening. If he could distract Paul for just a second, he could give Ashley a chance to escape. But he had to act quickly – the last few students were crumbling, and the soldiers almost had a clear shot at him. Glancing back, he was relieved to see Liz and Jasmine almost to the exit. His heart lurched and he quickly looked away again.
Paul was circling Ashley again. His face was bleeding from a dozen cuts and a dark bruise showed on the back of his neck. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. Then he bared his teeth, and his eyes seemed to darken. Chris saw him straighten, and realised he was about to attack again.
Before he could charge, Chris threw himself between them. Paul’s eyes widened and for a second he hesitated, taken aback by Chris’s intervention. Taking the opportunity, Chris twisted around and caught Ashley’s eyes.
“Go!” he screamed.
Then he turned back to Paul, and charged.
The surprise on Paul’s face turned to amusement as he watched him come. But Chris couldn’t turn back now. Fire lanced through his chest but he leapt at the larger boy. Twisting, he swung a fist at Paul’s face.
But Paul merely grinned and reached up to catch him by the wrist. Chris’s heart fell into his stomach as he was yanked forward into a crunching headbutt. White light flashed across his vision, and then he was falling. He hit the ground with a dull thud.
Blinking, he tried to clear his vision and regain his feet. But the strength had fled his limbs, and when his eyes cleared, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. His ears rang and he could hear distant voices, but before he could look around in search of them, Paul’s face appeared overhead. Their eyes met, and Chris saw his death lurking in the empty grey that stared back at him. Closing his eyes, he waited for the end to come.
Instead, there was a soft thud, and he opened his eyes in time to see Ashley tackle Paul, driving him back. Paul stumbled beneath the force of her attack, but Ashley was half his weight and the blow had only stunned him. Snarling, Ashley chased after him. Leaping into the air, she slammed her foot into his chest.
Paul was still recovering, and this time Ashley’s kick put him flat on his back. Before he could get up, Ashley raced in and stamped her boot down on his face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke, but before Ashley could retreat, Paul’s hands shot out and caught her by the ankle.
Ashley screamed as Paul surged upwards, lifting her foot with him to throw her off-balance. With Ashley’s ankle still firmly in his grip, Paul hauled Ashley’s leg above his head, and then slammed her face first into the ground. Releasing her ankle, he dove, attempting to pin her down and use his bulk to overwhelm her. But Ashley rolled to the side, her wings contracting, and Paul slammed into empty carpet. Coming to her feet, Ashley fixed Paul in her sights, and charged.
Still on the ground, Paul gaped at Ashley’s sudden fury. Her eyes remained the same tawny yellow, but there was a glint to them that reminded Chris of the rage he’d seen when Liz and Jasmine had turned. Yet this was different somehow, tightly controlled, as though Ashley had somehow managed to take all her pain and fear and insecurity and turn them into strength.
Paul managed to stagger to his feet before Ashley was on him. Her fist flashed out, and he raised his own to turn aside the blow. A sharp crack rang through the room as her knuckles caught his elbow. Paul screamed and holding his injured arm, he tried to retreat. But Ashley came after him, her amber eyes simmering.
A sickening crunch came from Paul’s skull as Ashley’s next blow caught him square between the eyes. His eyes rolled up into his skull and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Slowly, he toppled backwards and landed with a soft thud on the carpet.
Ashley stood over him, chest heaving, her white wings trembling with each inhalation. Fists clenched, she watched him for long seconds. But Paul lay unmoving. His eyes stared blankly up at her, unseeing.
Chris managed to stagger to his feet and move across to her. She looked up as he approached, and the tension seemed to rush from her body. She sagged, and reaching out, he caught her as she started to fall. Pain burned in his chest, but he held her close and looked around.
There was no sign of Liz or Jasmine, but while the whole fight had lasted no more than a few minutes, their time was up. On the staircase, the last of the students had fallen. Now the plain-clothed soldiers poured out onto the stage, their guns held at the ready as they formed a semicircle around Chris and Ashley. A deadly stillness fell over the room.
Chris held Ashley tight against him. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fled with Liz and Jasmine, but he was suddenly glad to have her there. Together they faced the black-barrels of the soldier’s guns, and waited for death to come.
“On your knees,” the Director’s voice carried down to them.
Chris looked up and saw her slowly descending the stairs. His eyes were drawn to two silver bands she held in one hand. His heart clenched as he recognised the shock collars, and he felt Ashley’s grip tighten around his waist. A shiver went through him as he shook his head.
“Kill us,” he croaked. “We’re not going back.”
The Director’s face did not change. The soldiers still on the stairs gave way before her. As she reached the stage, she held up the collars. “They weren’t meant for you,” she nodded to the limp bodies of Paul and Francesca, “I removed them as a show of trust. But I liked to keep them handy, just in case.”
“Get it over with,” Ashley croaked beside him, “You can’t make us go back, so you might as well end this joke.”
“But who will replace my faithful servants?” she raised an eyebrow, “You’ve made such a mess of them, the least you can do is take their place.”
“Go to hell,” Chris stepped towards her.
Two dozen rifles lifted half an inch as the soldiers glanced at the Director, waiting for her order. Despite himself, Chris paused. Now that the end had come, he found himself suddenly wanting to draw out this moment, to savour every last breath of life.
The Director pursed her lips. She turned her back on them and looked up at the students. “They’re all traitors you know,” she laughed, the sound cold and hollow, “You know the punishment for traitors.”
At her words, the soldiers still stationed at the top of the lecture theatre swung the heavy double doors closed. The men on the stairs turned and pointed their rifles into the rows of chairs where the students huddled, open terror on their faces. Several cried out as the Director looked back at Chris.
“Don’t,” Chris croaked.
“Why not?” the Director raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” Ashley begged, and a smile spread across the Director’s face.
Lifting the collars, the Director tossed them down at their feet. “Put them on, and I will spare them.”
“No,” Ashley whispered beside him, but even as she said the word, she slumped to her knees.
Chris crouched beside her. They glanced at each other, and he could see the terror in her eyes. Then Ashley closed her eyes and swallowed. When they opened again, the fear had fled. Reach
ing out, she gripped Chris by the shoulder. Neither spoke, but Chris nodded. Together, they picked up the collars.
“Put them on,” the Director repeated.
Nodding, Chris steeled himself, and lifted the metal collar to his throat. He shivered as the cold steel touched his flesh, and he fought the urge to hurl the thing from him. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath, found the clasp, and pressed it together. The collar gave an audible click as it settled into place.
A pit opened in Chris’s stomach as he looked up at the Director. Another click came from Ashley’s collar, sealing their fate. Together, they met the woman’s gaze, helpless slaves before her wrath. She grinned again and lifted her wrist, showing them the controller she wore as a watch.
“You remember this?” she waited until they both nodded, “Good. Behave, and I won’t have to use it.”
Biting his lip, Chris stared down at the carpet, too afraid to do anything else. Despair welled in his chest, robbing him of strength.
“Excellent, you may yet prove useful.” The Director laughed. Chris flinched as the sound grated in his ears. “Okay, men, it’s time we finished with this mess. Kill them all.”
Chris’s heart froze in his chest as he looked up and saw the soldiers taking aim at the students. A scream clawed its way up from his chest, and he started to his feet. A deafening roar filled the lecture theatre as the soldiers opened fire. He screamed again, and leapt at the Director, determined to tear her down.
Before he could take two steps, white fire wrapped around his neck, cutting off his shriek. His feet went out from beneath him as his muscles spasmed, and then he was on his back, his whole body convulsing as the boom of gunfire echoed through the lecture theatre. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He thrashed, unable to breathe, to think, to do anything but listen as three hundred students were murdered where they knelt.
Only when silence returned to the lecture theatre, did the darkness finally rise to claim him.