I scream and I scream and I scream. Nobody comes.
I pull against the tape that ties my hands to the chair, using all my strength, screaming like a madwoman. I chafe my wrists raw, kick against the bonds on my legs, scream until my voice goes hoarse.
The tape around my leg loosens a little. I stop screaming.
I squirm around in my chair using every single muscle in my body, trying to move my right leg. After a while, I can almost free my foot, but I can’t pull it through the loop of tape because my sneaker keeps getting stuck.
My world narrows to this one, desperate action.
I need to free my foot. Nothing else matters.
I grit my teeth, using all my strength until the muscles in my upper leg begin to burn like fire. When my foot finally pulls out of my shoe, I make a hoarse, high sound, the triumphant cry of an animal escaping a trap.
Then I hear the door swinging open.
“What’s going on in here? The library is strictly off limits to all students during the dance. Oh!” Miss Anderson makes a shocked little sound when she sees Daniel lying on the floor. Then she sees the four of us tied to our chairs. “Jess! What’s going on?”
My words spill out in a desperate rush. “It’s Jeffrey Black he’s gone insane he wants to kill everybody he’s going to shoot us you need to help me get out of here we must warn them he’ll be back any minute.”
She stares at me in astonishment, frozen to the spot.
“We don’t have time you have to hurry he’ll be back he’s got a gun he said he’s going to blow up the gym if we don’t hurry up everyone’s going to die please cut me loose we need to move now he’s got a gun and he’s coming back any moment.”
Miss Anderson’s large blue eyes blink slowly behind her glasses.
“Miss Anderson! He’s got a gun and he’s going to kill us! We have to get out of here now!”
My hoarse voice seems to jerk her out of her daze. She turns to the check-out desk, grabs a pair of scissors, runs toward me.
“Oh my God! Are you okay? What’s wrong with the other girls? What happened to Daniel?” She starts cutting at the tape tying my right hand to the chair.
“Jeffrey drugged them. He’s planning to kill us. And he said he planted a bomb in the gym.”
She’s almost managed to cut through the tape around my right hand when the door opens.
“Stop that!” Jeffrey yells. “Get away from her!”
Miss Anderson drops the scissors and turns around, hands in front of her, her voice low and calm. “Jeffrey. Please. Let’s talk about this.”
“I’m through talking to you.” He lifts the gun, points it at her.
“I really think—”
A shot echoes around the room, incredibly loud. For a moment I’m relieved— everyone must have heard that—but then I see Miss Anderson crumple to the ground.
Jesus.
The shock of it.
The icy disbelief.
Miss Anderson is on the floor, clutching her stomach and whimpering. Jeffrey walks over to where she’s lying. His face is completely expressionless. He looks her up and down, head bent to the side, almost as if he’s puzzled. Then he shoots her again, this time in the head.
Everything goes white and still.
*
Miss Anderson is lying in a pool of blood. From here I can’t see her face, but I can see the cheerful, heart-shaped pin holding back her thick brown hair.
Her bright-red cardigan.
Her Mickey Mouse watch.
*
I look up.
Jeffrey has walked closer and is now standing right next to me. He’s looking at Miss Anderson with a strange expression on his face. He doesn’t look shocked or sorry or upset. If I had to pick a word, I’d say he looks fascinated.
Time slows as I suddenly realize something with a cold, crystal clarity.
I am going to die here.
Nobody is going to save me, and I don’t have any magical powers left to save myself.
In a few seconds’ time, I’m going to look like Miss Anderson: small and broken and dead. I stare dully at her lifeless body, remembering all those hours she spent with me, trying so hard to help. The thought of her spying for the Order seems laughable now. Ridiculous. Miss Anderson was a good person and she cared about me, not some dumb magical bloodline.
And now she’s dead. Because she tried to help me.
No.
I grit my teeth. She did not die for nothing.
I might not have my magical powers anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have power.
I’m still alive, goddammit, and I have all the power of an ordinary girl.
*
When Jeffrey looks up from Miss Anderson’s lifeless body, his eyes flat and cold, his hand on his gun, I do not hesitate for one second. I explode out of my chair, using all the strength in my free right leg to push me from the ground and to fall on him, chair and all, tackling him to the ground with the hand that Miss Anderson freed in the seconds before she died. He has two hands to fight me, and two legs, but I have the element of surprise and a will to live so strong that my whole body quivers with a frenzied, raw lust for violence I never knew I had in me.
The impact of the fall traps his gun hand under the chair, luckily, and with my body over his, I use the weight of the chair to squash the hand under me. I crush his fingers against the gun until I hear bones crack, at the same time using use my right hand to grab him by the throat. He wriggles beneath me, trying to fend me off with his other hand, scratching at my face, slapping at my arm, pulling at my hand. I don’t feel any pain. I narrow my focus to keep him trapped under me, clenching my teeth and putting all my strength into the hand that is crushing his throat.
He’s struggling now, really fighting for his life, squirming beneath me until he manages to half-free himself from the chair.
I do not let go of my grip on his throat, fight to keep him trapped under my bodyweight. I am not that much bigger than this boy, but I want to live, and I am filled with the furious, painful strength of pure desperation.
My hand is beginning to cramp when I look up to see that his head is now right next to a small step. The corner of the step is pointed and reinforced with aluminum.
When he manages to free himself from my hand, I don’t go for his neck again. Instead I shove my hand straight into his face, my fingers scratching for a hold, poking at his eyes, his skin, his nose, and I smash his head against the sharp point of the step. I’m sweating and gnashing my teeth and wailing, a long, low, animal sound, and I’m smashing his head against the step and smashing it and crying and shivering.
It takes a while before I realize he’s not fighting anymore. When I look up, I see that his eyes have rolled back in his head. I don’t know if he’s breathing.
I don’t let go and I don’t stop.
I am going to live.
I keep smashing his head. I keep screaming hoarsely. I am going to live. I am not stopping. I’m smashing his head and I’m crying and I’m not stopping.
He doesn’t move.
After a while I let go of him, gasping for air, kicking myself away from his lifeless body with my one foot. I’m half-crawling, half-sailing across the floor, still tied to the chair, when I see the pair of scissors Miss Anderson dropped. I reach for it with trembling fingers, cut my left hand loose, then my leg. I stand up, fall down again, my body shaking with adrenalin and violence and terror.
*
My mouth is full of blood; I must have bitten through the inside of my cheek. My ears are buzzing, a low, dull, whooshing sound. My vision is blurred and hazy. I wipe blood out of my eye. I feel dizzy, realize I’m holding my breath.
I take a few deep breaths, feel my world steadying a little.
I am alone in a room full of lifeless bodies.
Seconds pass.
*
I’m trying to think what I’m supposed to do now but my brain feels foggy and sluggish. My body won’t stop shaking. I susp
ect I might be in shock.
Jeffrey said he’d planted a bomb in the gym. He said it would go off in twenty-eight minutes. By now it must be—what? Fifteen minutes? Less?
I don’t know what to do. Should I check on Daniel? Should I free the girls? Should I run to the gym and warn people? Was Jeffrey even telling the truth?
And then, mercifully, years of conditioning kick in and I remember what to do in an emergency. I take my phone out of my back pocket. Dial 911.
There’s no signal.
It takes another few seconds before I realize what this means: the cell-phone jammer.
I start running toward the gym.
I sprint down the hallway, past the labs, past the office, to the main entrance of the school.
No!
The inner security gate, a retractable folding steel gate, has been pulled shut and locked with what looks like a bicycle chain. From where I’m standing, I can see that that the gym is packed, its doors wide open. The principal’s voice is blaring from the speakers.
No one will hear me call.
Jeffrey was right. If the doors to the swimming pool and quad are already locked, the only way out of the building will be through the foyer. People will trample each other to death trying to get out.
Only to meet this locked gate.
I stare at the thick bicycle chain, which is fastened with a solid-looking combination lock. There can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen minutes left before the bomb explodes, maximum.
In the space of a second, a dozen desperate plans flash through my head.
I can try the office phones, he said he cut the phone lines, he might have lied, probably not, I should drive until I get a signal, I don’t have a car, I can steal a car, I don’t know how to steal a car, there might be someone in the parking lot, everyone is listening to Sweeney’s speech inside, I should run to the fire station, it’ll take too long, he said it’s jammed for miles, I must warn them, nobody will listen, I should run to the nearest home, they might not even have a landline, the janitor’s office should have an axe to break the lock…
There’s a fire extinguisher on the wall to my right.
Behind glass, next to the office. If I break the glass, an alarm will sound. Firefighters will arrive within minutes.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
I stumble over, break the glass cover by kicking it with my left foot, the one on which I’m still wearing a shoe.
No alarm.
As my throat closes in panic, I suddenly remember how heavy a fire extinguisher is. More than heavy enough to break a lock.
I grab the fire extinguisher, rush over to the gate, turn the lock on the chain to rest against the bars facing me. Then I start pounding the lock as hard as I can, using the fire extinguisher as a type of cudgel.
The lock doesn’t break. After about a minute my arms are aching and my hands are cramping. A fire extinguisher is not a sledgehammer: it is heavy and clumsy and difficult to hold. But it’s the only thing I have. I keep pounding.
“What are you’re doing?”
A kid is standing at the other side of the gate, frowning at me.
I keep on hammering. I don’t know what to tell him. My arms feel like lead and my headache is back and I’m starting to realize that I’ve made the wrong choice—I should’ve run for help. I can’t break this lock. I don’t have the strength. To break this lock you’d have to be as big as—
I look up at the kid, who pales when he sees my face. “What happened to you?” he asks.
“Find Ty Sampson. Bring him here, now!”
“Why? What’s going—?”
“If you want to live, you will run and you will find Ty right now!”
A nod and he’s gone.
I start banging again. Another minute passes. The lock shows no signs of breaking. Oh my God. I made the wrong decision. I don’t know what to do now, there’s no time, I should have…
“Hey, Applehead. What’s up?”
I’m so glad to see Ty that my eyes fill with helpless tears.
“You need to break this lock and open this gate. Now! Everybody’s lives depend on it.”
He takes one look at my face. “Okay. Pass the fire extinguisher under the gate.”
There’s just enough space to force the fire extinguisher through.
Words spill from my mouth in a rush. “Jeffrey Black planted a bomb in the gym. I think we have about ten minutes before it explodes. He said the bomb would start a fire; he soaked the area around the bomb in gasoline. He’s locked all the other exits. We have to get everyone out immediately.”
Ty turns the lock to face his side of the gate, then takes his first swing. His blow is about ten times more powerful than mine. His face is calm, his voice relaxed.
“Get Jonathan Pendragon,” he tells the kid, who has followed him back. “Get him here now.”
The kid disappears immediately.
Ty takes another swing at the lock. Then another. “I’ll break this lock in a couple minutes,” he tells me. Smash. “Jonathan will organize the evacuation.” Smash. “He’s a very persuasive guy.” Smash. “He’ll keep people calm.” Smash. “You should make sure no one else has wandered down the hallways.” Smash. “If Jeffrey really did lock all the other exits, they might become trapped.” Smash.
Oh my God.
I think of Daniel lying unconscious on the floor of the library. And Maggie. Chloe and Amanda. If a fire breaks out, they’ll burn to death.
I look at Ty, banging away at that lock. There’s nothing I can do here.
I run.
Back in the library, I go to Daniel first. He’s breathing regularly, but he’s still unconscious. I’m afraid he might have suffered a head trauma, that I shouldn’t move him. But I don’t know what else to do and there’s no time to think.
I roll him over and put my arms under his shoulders, locking my hands over his chest so I can drag him without his head banging against the floor. I’m hoping this will be okay; that I won’t hurt him worse than he’s hurt already. I start pulling him across the floor, but because I’m only wearing one shoe, I keep slipping on my sock. I pull it off; easier to get traction on my bare foot.
This time my method works okay. Daniel isn’t that big, and my shoulders are strong from years of swimming.
If only my head didn’t hurt so much.
I drag him out the library and down hall. Past the labs. Past the office. Toward the front entrance. When I pass the foyer, I see that Ty is still working at that lock. Behind him a group of students are starting to form a queue. People are calm: chatting and laughing.
Six minutes, maybe only five.
By the time I put Daniel’s unconscious body down on the side of the front steps, my muscles are on fire. I wipe blood from my eyes, run back for Maggie.
In the library, I realize I’ll have to cut her loose first. The scissors are still lying next to Jeffrey’s body. I run over and I pick them up, forcing myself not to look at him.
I can’t bear to think of what I’ve done.
I start to cut loose Maggie’s slumped form. I’m almost finished when I hear Amanda give a loud groan.
“What happened?” she asks, squinting slightly, confused.
I stumble over, trembling, hack at the tape around her arms. “Jeffrey Black is going to blow up the school. You need to get out of here now. Do you understand? Get out now!”
When Amanda is free, I run back to Maggie, wrangle her unconscious body to the ground, start dragging her the same way I dragged Daniel, legs on the floor, shoulders supported.
“I don’t think I can walk,” Amanda says.
“Then crawl. Do what you have to, but get out of here!”
I drag Maggie to the door, see that Amanda hasn’t moved. I know she’s must be confused and disorientated from the drugs, but I also know that if I don’t get through to her now, she’s going to die.
“Amanda!” I try to yell at her, but my voice is little more than a grating hiss. “If you
don’t get out of here now, you’ll never be on TV. Your YouTube channel will never blow up. You will never influence anybody. You’ll die right here, unknown and unloved, a small-town loser. Now get up and run!”
As I drag Maggie out the door, Amanda stands up on wobbly legs. She’s clinging to the furniture, stumbling like a drunk, but she’s moving. I hope she makes it out in time.
We can’t have more than a couple of minutes left.
I drag Maggie down the corridor, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. I’m tired after dragging Daniel and she’s a dead weight, heavy as lead. My head is ready to explode and there’s blood in my eyes. I’m making a strange moaning sound. I drag her past the labs. Past the office.
When I reach the foyer, I see that Ty must’ve broken the lock because the gate is open and people are leaving through the front entrance in a loose but orderly queue. There’s no sign of panic. I can hear Jonathan talking over the microphone, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Everyone seems calm but purposeful, as if they’re heading outside for a group photo or to watch a firework display.
Ignoring the shocked looks I get from the other students, I drag Maggie’s unconscious body to the front steps and put her down next to Daniel. I’m relieved to see he’s still breathing.
There’s probably only a minute left. Maybe less.
The gym is not even nearly empty yet.
I start to cry. Not because it’s all taken too long and people are going to get hurt, but because I know that Chloe is still unconscious, tied up in the library, and that I can’t leave her there.
I run back, knowing that I’m being incredibly stupid. If a bomb goes off now, I won’t make it. The gym is still packed; Jeffrey made sure there was only one exit. If a fire starts, people will crush each other trying to get out, and here I am running in the opposite direction.
But I can’t turn back.
Too scared to think what I’m doing, I run.
I pass Amanda in the hallway. She’s stumbling but making steady progress, one hand against the wall.
I get to the library. I cut Chloe loose. I’m still crying.
I’m expecting chaos to descend at any moment so I start to pray out loud, begging for a miracle: Two minutes more, please. Three. Pleasepleaseplease. Just four more minutes.
Ordinary Girl (The Dark Dragon Chronicles Book 1) Page 27