by Jack Parker
If she had decided to shoot somewhere else –not his leg- then what would have happened?
She could have killed him.
The mere thought made her stomach clench.
Lia made her way back toward the corridor. It had probably been fifteen minutes and still no Ted. She raced down the corridor, then stopped and backed against the wall.
She could hear a voice.
"You can secure that side. I'm going down here."
Lia looked around. If whoever it was came down the corridor, they would see her. And she didn't want to have to use the gun again until she had reloaded it. She bit her lip, then a sudden idea occurred to her. Lia flung open the door behind her and ran into one of the screens.
Everything was dark, pitch black, and before her were rows and rows of seats.
She would hide there until whoever it was passed.
* * *
They reached the end of the corridor. It stemmed out into two more corridors. Jack looked toward the men and indicated the left side.
"You can secure that side–"he indicated the right "– I'm going down here."
They nodded and Jack made his way down the corridor, his eyes scouring over the many doors.
One of them was open.
He sucked in his breath and pulled out his gun, then made his way toward the door.
Lia dived in between some of the seats as she heard the sound of a figure entering. She had forgotten to close the door.
How stupid can you get?
It was far too dark for her to make out whether he was an Elonsican or Cadlian, but she could tell that it was a guy. Lia continued to crawl in between the seats, silently, as he made his way down the rows. He was turning his head, looking around for any sign of life.
What an idiot.
She bit her lip and counted in her head. He'd left the door open. She just had to be quick. One…two…three.
And then she bolted.
Jack heard hurried footsteps. He shot randomly, then noticed the silhouette of the figure in the darkness. He shot again.
"Stop!"
All he saw was a flash of black hair as the figure bolted out of the door and out of sight. He rushed toward the door and out into the corridor.
But the figure had already gone.
Jack shrugged.
At least they didn't try to shoot me.
* * *
When Lia arrived at the checkpoint Cal was already there and leaning against the wall, his hands placed in his pockets.
He cast his gaze over her panting form, seemingly bored. "I found him."
She suppressed a sigh of relief. "Did you get the key?"
"He wouldn't give it me. He wanted to see someone from the first mission."
"Me or Carmon?"
"Yeah. He said he'd stay put, so all we need to do is get to him and get the key. Then we're out of here."
She nodded. "Good."
Cal pulled out his gun. "Not exactly."
She looked at him inquisitively. "What do you mean?"
"We're not just dealing with rowdy teenagers playing with guns anymore. Officers have arrived."
"LAFFAT," she said vehemently.
"Right."
"So they'll be trained, which means we'll have to watch our backs."
He shrugged placidly. "Exactly. But don't worry; you're with me this time. So I doubt you'll get hurt." His tone of voice implied that it was fact rather than opinion.
She wanted to roll her eyes. How arrogant could you get? She chose not to argue. Arguing would take time and the sooner they got this done, the better. She had had enough action for one day and she desperately wanted to get back and go to bed.
Cal began to make his way down the corridor.
"Wait," she said. He turned his head as she reloaded her gun. "There. I'm ready."
He continued walking, Lia at his heel.
She felt like some sort of dog following its master. She caught up with him and turned her head. "Where exactly is he?"
"One of the screens."
That meant that her earlier prediction had been wrong. She felt lucky that she hadn't told Cal; he would have had a field day from that one. "What number?"
He shrugged placidly. "I'll know it when I see it?"
Lia took in a deep breath. "You didn't even look at the number?" she said in disbelief.
"No. I didn't."
"Wouldn't it have been easier if you did?"
"It's easy either way," he deadpanned.
Lia could feel the anger begin to boil within her chest. What right did he have to be so arrogant? He thought that he could do anything without even trying. He was so up himself. She hated people like him –people who thought that they could do anything, people who thought that they were better than everyone else at everything when they had no reason to.
Lia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms which were already sore from earlier on. "Why are you so –"
Cal's hand clasped over her mouth. He pulled her down beneath one of the benches and put a finger to his lips, then raised his gun. He bent down beneath the bench and pushed her further against the wall.
"Move up," he hissed. "You're taking up too much room."
Lia glared at him, then moved further against the wall. The air was dusty and it had a strong smell, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. Her hands felt sore as she flattened them against the dirty tiling, staying below the long bench. She kept her head to the ground and she could just about make out Cal's form beside her, his right hand supporting his gun and his left…Lia felt a new wave of fury course through her chest. He had his left arm over her to keep her down.
He was touching her.
What did he think she was, five? She wasn't stupid enough to get up in such a situation.
She could hear slow footfall approaching and a few rowdy shouts. Lia shrugged her shoulders, trying to get his arm off. Noticing, he turned his head to face her and was met with a glare.
He smirked.
"Get. Off. Me," she hissed, malevolently.
"You know you're loving it."
She could feel her face begin to heat up. "You wish."
"I don't wish, I know," he replied coolly. He bent down beside her and pulled her down further as the footsteps grew louder. His smirk intensified. "You're blushing."
"I'm not blushing –I'm red with anger, prick."
"Of course you are," he said dryly.
Suddenly, the footfall stopped. A voice echoed through the silence. "Hey, is someone there?"
They had heard them. Lia bit her lip and waited. Hopefully they wouldn't think to look beneath the bench, but if they did…
"I know I heard someone. So come out or else we'll shoot you."
The footsteps drew nearer. They were coming to the bench. Lia held her breath. Just as they were about to approach, Cal placed his gun on the floor and shot up.
What the fuck?
He ran a hand through his hair. "Hey."
Hey?
From what Lia could see, the guy was looking at him quizzically. "Dude, are you in the group?" He looked to his friends for affirmation. They merely shrugged.
Cal's face was set in a deadpan. "Yeah."
"Why the hell you down here, then?" The guy took a step forward.
Cal intercepted him. "I got bored."
"There's a g-" The Elonsican's mouth set in an 'O.' "Oh. You were bored. But, dude, wouldn't you want to pierce her somewhere a bit classy? I mean, a bench?"
He must have only seen her hair and thought she was a Gredge, so she was safe. And then the full impact of his words suddenly hit her.
What the FUCK?
Piece? Her and Cal?
Cal shrugged nonchalantly, "As I said, I was bored." She was sure that he was enjoying this.
The Elonsican scratched his head, thoughtfully. "Okay. But don't take too long. Officers are here and they'll start asking questions."
Cal nodded. "We're nearly done, anyway."
D
one? DONE? They weren't doing anything to be done with in the first place.
The Elonsican nodded and made his way back to his friends. Before he left, he added, "There's a hotel down the street and the rooms have locks. You should go there instead."
EWWWWW…
Cal nodded. "Thanks for the advice."
"No problem. Bye, and have fun."
What a weirdo…
"Don't worry, I will."
The Elonsican and his friends laughed as if Cal had just cracked some brilliant joke. Cal continued to grin.
Lia's hand clasped over her gun. She was so going to shoot him for this. As soon as the footsteps had died away, he turned his head to face her.
He raised an eyebrow. "You weren't planning to shoot me, were you?" he asked mildly.
Lia frowned. He made it sound petty –immature. She got up, then brushed off the layers of dust that had accumulated over her clothes. "Unlike you, I'm not immature."
He bent down, then picked up his gun. "I don't see how I'm in anyway immature," he replied, regarding her coolly.
Lia glared. "How the hell was that not immature?"
"How was it immature?" By leaving out "hell" he had made himself sound more calm than her –more collected.
"You did that on purpose because you knew it would get to me," she bit. She realized her mistake just as the last word left her mouth.
He smirked, again. "It got to you, did it?"
"No."
He ignored her and dug his hands into his pockets. "Which means it did."
"It didn't." Lia began to make her way down the corridor at a hurried pace.
"I wouldn't go in front if I were you. You don't know the number." He was using her own words against her.
She stopped walking and clenched her fists. "Hurry up, then."
He yawned and sauntered past her, his hands still dug in his pockets. She continued to walk behind him as they reached the screens, then he stopped.
"It's number thirty-two, by the way."
He had known all along.
He slid into the screen. Lia followed. Her eyes adjusted to the blackness. She could make out the silhouette of a figure sitting on the front row. As soon as they arrived, he got up and began walking toward them. Lia went to meet him and held out her hand. He handed her the key, then they shook hands and he left.
Lia leaned against one of the seats and sighed. "Can we go now?"
Cal shook his head. "Michael wants us to report to him directly after the mission."
Lia frowned. "Can't we relax first?"
"Relax where?"
Lia bit her lip. She was sure that the question had been rhetorical, but she had an idea. She pulled herself up, then grinned. "I'm leaving."
And, without a further word, she had made her way into the corridor, Cal at her heel. He had to follow her because she had the key.
It felt good to be in control for once.
* * *
Jack yawned and leaned against the headboard of his bed. It hadn't taken that long to sort out the cinema: as soon as they had seen the officers many of the teens had bolted. The main people who were caught had been taken in for questioning and the head officer said that he would take it from there and alert Jack tomorrow.
He would have to visit them the next day, then. But the head officer had said that any time would be fine, which meant that he could sleep in for as long as he wanted.
Jack yawned. He didn't have any plans for the next day, so he could sleep in. He grinned and lay down, then closed his eyes.
A shrill beeping filled his ears.
Jack shot up, then ran his eyes over the room. He picked up his mobile and switched off the beeping, then turned it on.
You have two new messages, it reads.
Jack clicked on the first. It was from Melan. He read it quickly, then groaned. She wanted to meet him at ten a.m. tomorrow at a coffee place called Ganners. He'd heard of the place before, but never had he actually gone there.
He opened the next message and looked at the sender. Jessica Coles. He frowned. Why would she send him a message? He opened it, curiously, then read. She wanted to meet him to discuss something and she said that he should text her back to arrange a time.
He lay down on his bed and sighed.
So much for sleeping in.
CHAPTER 11
A pebble skittered across the water's surface. Ripples cascaded from the edges, then diminished as the wavering beams of light danced upon their flesh and shattered upon reaching their periphery –disappearing into the water's shallow depths.
It looked like glass.
The sky was red, red tinged with oranges and gold and purples and a faint hint of yellow outlining the sun's edge as it blurred into the landscape. The sky looked like a fire, a rampant inferno burning overhead and stretching above the landscape, coiling over its surface and fading into the distance.
Cal lifted another pebble. It was smooth, almost perfect, save for a few blemishes upon its polished exterior. He tossed it into the water and watched as it hit the surface, then rebounded and fell once again.
Yet the glass did not break; the surface remained intact, impenetrable.
"It's a nice place to relax, isn't it?" she commented mildly.
He could feel the cool, crisp air as it wafted through his nostrils, leaving him feeling chilled and light-headed, if only for a moment.
"Yeah," he replied, "it is." He ran his fingers through the grass. It was slightly damp and it looked darker, shadowed, beneath the sunset. "I'm guessing you've been here before."
She was looking straight ahead, her gaze cast over the waters. She nodded absently. "I have."
"How did you find it?"
A ghost of a smile played across her features. "A –"she seemed to be considering her words for a moment, then continued "–friend took me here once."
She was still looking over the water, her eyes focused on something. He followed her gaze. There was only sky.
"What are you looking at?" It wasn't like him to be so inquisitive but he was tired, too tired to figure it all out for himself.
"The sky. Care to join me?"
And then it hit him. She wasn't looking at anything. She was looking through it, all of it. She was watching something that he couldn't see.
His fingers dug into the mud. "You're using sarcasm to skirt around the question." He had learned that the best way to make her give a straight answer was to state the purpose of her words, to predict what she was feeling and leave her to be unnerved if he were right. And he usually was. It made her angry, uneasy, and then she stopped watching her words and lost the smallest ounce of control over them that she had retained up until that point. And there were always signs, signs that he was winning.
She regarded him placidly. "And what if I am?"
Her defiance: sign number one.
She'd try to build up a wall, try to act strong. All he had to do was pull down the foundations she had already laid –mention something that would throw her off the edge. "Your friend: Carmon. You're pretty close to him, aren't you?"
The question was rhetorical, whether she chose to reply or not was her choice. She didn't.
Lack of reply as she attempted to find a motive behind his question and failed miserably: sign number two.
He continued. "At least, you think you're pretty close to him. And he thinks that you two are close, too. But, in reality, he knows nothing about you. All he knows are the bare bones, the surface layer, and he realizes that. And you realize that, too."
She ran her hand through the grass, coiled a single blade beneath her fingertips and tore it out, ripped it into shreds, then dug once again for another. She was no longer calm.
Nervousness and trying to focus on something else in hopes that the words would just go away: sign number three.
He smirked. "I'm getting to you, aren't I?"
Her head shot up and she faced him. "What the hell is your point?" she bit.
She got angry far to
o easily.
A hint of anger, usually curse words: sign number four.