Rod Wars

by D. J. Hoskins

  “Holy hell,” he said, as he paused before the doors. Glancing inside he froze, dread seizing him. Why does that person look so similar...so familiar? he wondered, his legs shaking as he approached the body of an older man. Why does that guy host such a resemblance...? It’s almost like…it’s almost like…

  His body became sluggish, heavier and for a moment all he could register was the pounding of his heart as his throat closed. “No, no, no it can’t be,” he said his voice barely above whisper. “It can’t be. You—you would never die…”

  Nearly halfway down, the youth reached out for the wall and scraping along it, he collapsed just inside the door with a sob. His strength had left him; his world had crumbled. His grandfather was dead.

  In denial, the boy could all but muster a string of incomprehensible words as the tears flowed freely. Crawling, Aaron closed the last few feet to the body as slowly as the clouds were fast. His beloved grandfather appeared surprised even with his closed expression.

  Aaron’s trembling finger’s hovered over the hole in the older man’s head, the width no larger than a dime.

  It was unbearable. Reaching out with his other hand, the grandson grabbed fabric and buried his head in the middle of his grandfather's still warm body. There he sobbed, let loose the frustration, the self-loathing, the anger and guilt, grief and regret. His grandfather would never see him grow up, to graduate, to join the special core...and yet where had Aaron just been? Screwing around in the basement, wasting time, griping about drunken guards, and fantasizing about ancient items beyond his reach.

  "Gramps, stand up. Sit up, would you? Lying down too much will make your back hurt. Especially on this floor,” Aaron said and reaching out a tentative hand, waved it over his grandfather's eyes. "Come on Gramps...say something? You're still warm; your blood's still flowing, right? Come on, don't let a little hole knock you down...you've got to get back up. You’ve got to…I’m begging you. Please don’t leave me alone."

  He broke down into yet more sobs, and getting hold of himself, he lifted his head, tightening one hand on the fabric, the other into a fist. “Who was it?” he demanded. “Who killed you? Who killed you?! Who?"

  There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one.

  "Aaron?" A hand touched his arm gently and turning, he rounded on a young man. One of the surviving staff members. Dark tired eyes appraised Aaron piteously.

  "Mr. Johnson,” Aaron said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "My grandfather...he—he won't wake up. Someone...the hole, someone put a hole in his head and he won't—"

  "Aaron...he's gone."

  "I know that,” the youth croaked and sniffling he shrugged off the man's hand.

  Sitting back on his heels, he turned back to his dead kin and pulled out the rod. "I have it; I'll keep it safe...just you watch. I'll make you proud. So, wherever you are, watch over me? Because...I'm scared, Gramps...I'm—” Shaking his head, he rose to his feet as he slipped the rod back into a pocket. “I'll make you proud."

  Skirting the body, he wiped his eyes as he headed for the stage. Setting aside his grief, he transferred his thoughts to the rod and cursed. How many minutes did I waste? he wondered, glancing at the doors, paranoid as he climbed the stairs to the stage. If she’d snuck up on me during any of that, I’d be dead. One more mistake and I might be; I can’t let my guard down.

  Dark scars marred the stage's light wood, and while some corpses still lay scattered across its surface, many of the dead were lined out on the side. A piece of cloth had been pulled over their heads and hands folded on their chests.

  Near the back of the stage were several pipes that jutted out of the floor’s cracked and splintered wood. Water trickled down the grey discolored metal adding to the already soaked stage. Stepping onto the stage, Aaron appraised the remaining fifteen staff members, all of whom were vaguely familiar. "The rod is the priority,” he told them after a moment.

  His determination, however, was returned with wide eyes, broken eye contact, and universal fear. "The Red Death...is it coming again?" one asked, stepping back.

  "Red death? What are you—" Aaron began.

  "He's right, the rod is the priority,” Mr. Johnson echoed in the effort to redirect his co-workers fear to logic.

  "Priority,” another sneered. "We nearly died because of that ancient glow stick."

  "No, that was for the students," a staff member tried to correct their comrade, and then looked at Mr. Johnson. "Right?" The question was more asking than affirming.

  "Not to mention the Red Death hit us before we were ready,” a woman said.

  The previously outspoken man rolled his eyes. "Like an enemy ever waits? Even if we were prepared, what difference would it make? She'd torch us. Ready or not, one slip up and—"

  "Shut up and be a man,” an older woman spat, punching her companion lightly in the shoulder. "Either we fight or the kid's put at risk when we flee."

  "Then how about one of us takes the rod?" the outspoken man suggested. "That’s the best solution, isn’t it?"

  Aaron stretched out his arm, his hand humming with electricity. An electrical blade shot out from the center of the palm which stopped just inches before the man's throat. "That's out of the question. But oh, don't worry. You’re free to make other suggestions. However..." he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. "The rod stays with me."

  "Don't ask if you're not willing to give something in return, Kid. This involves our lives too," the man said as he took off his glasses, not looking the least bit intimidated.

  Under the influence of the man's indigo titus, the glasses stretched and morphed into a curved spear-like dagger, with a long handle and sharp blade.

  "Ryan, put that away,” Mr. Johnson told the man, then put a hand on Aaron's arm. "Don't worry Aaron. We can take—"

  A torrent of flames blew in the already damaged auditorium's double doors. Emerging from the heart of the smoke and flames was Akane, her katanas drawn and lit. Fixing Aaron with a murderous look, she shot over rows of seating, eyes set on the stage.

  Aaron, the first to react, turned tail in a run.

  "Al right, I'll leave her to—"

  "Screw this!" Ryan said. Cloaking his lower body in titus, he sprinted past Aaron for the backstage. Unfortunately, the man's cowardice started a snowball effect and prompted the remaining Corpus personnel to follow his lead.

  "Cowards!" Mr. Johnson shouted after them and managed to grab one by the arm. "Stand and fight!"

  Akane coming up before him, swung a blade in passing and sliced through flesh and bone. His severed head from his body. Kicking out a foot in midair, she caught his companion in the face. Riding him down, she stepped off as the head hit wood with a sickening crunch.

  Whirling into her next attack with a sweep of swords, she caught one man across the back with one sword and ran down another with her second blade.

  Aaron grabbing the man ahead of him by the shoulder, unleashed a surge of electricity through his body. Stepping over him, he passed through the backstage doorway. He turned, as the woman behind him stumbled over her companion, then fell into his front kick. Her momentum reversed, she lurched back onto Akane's blade.

  Back at a sprint, the youth at the exit door pushed it open and ran out as Akane dislodged and freed the dying woman from pain.

  Chapter 34

  String of Life

  A tornado of fire erupted out of nowhere and bending at an awkward angle, swept out from the Commons.

  The torrent sputtered and fell short of the ruins of the Tier 1 building. Though still a good distance off, the intensity of its heat conjured beads of sweat on Alex's forehead. Its presence, however, snapped the five out of their morbid state and they, like anyone still hanging around, made a run for it.

  The trapped were abandoned and the wounded left to die.

  Evading the flames, the five, along with a few other bystanders, looked on in shocked awe as it stormed past them. Catching the slow, it trapped the forsaken behind
an escalating wall of flames. No sooner had it flared up, than the tornado of fire sputtered and died. In its place a willowy figure emerged as Akane spun to a graceful stop, her swords still drawn.

  Before her singed and panting, rod in hand, was Aaron, the pale yellow of his titus cloak shining nearly as strongly as the sun.

  "Hand it over child,” the female monk commanded.

  "Come and get it,” he spat back defiantly, raising his chin. "My grandfather entrusted me with this. Like hell I'm giving it up." He tucked the rod away into an inside pocket of his blazer.

  "Aaron!" Sierra called, her tense expression a mixture of fear and worry. "What the hell are you doing? Run!"

  "I've got this; don't you dare help me...any of you. I'll show you the power of a true Goethe. So sit back and watch Sierra, 'cause that's where you belong,” Aaron said coolly and his smirk, though strained, returned.

  "Does he know?" Sierra wondered aloud.

  "About your granddad?" Katelyn asked. "Probably…"

  "Don't worry Aaron, I wasn't planning on helping you,” Alex reassured, a part of him hoping the monk would win.

  "He's going to die,” Melissa said folding her arms. "Not even Mr. Leptin stood a chance.”

  “Wait, he fought her?” Sierra asked.

  Melissa nodded.

  “When?”

  “Over the summer.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to go on a field trip.”

  “I’m guessing you never made it?” Daniel said.

  “That and so much more. I spent the summer on an Airforce base.”

  “So what now?” Daniel asked. “Are we just gonna stand here?"

  "Aren't you leading?" Katelyn asked. "You figure it out."

  "Leaders rely on the will of the people."

  "So cast your vote,” Melissa said.

  "Well I was a no from the get go,” Alex said frankly.

  "Shut it bug, you've already cast yours,” Katelyn snapped at him.

  "Guys we've got to help him,” Sierra pleaded. "You saw what that freak did to Mrs. Quill."

  "I thought you hated your cousin?” Daniel said.

  "He's family."

  "Well...yeah, I get that but, nah, I opt out. I never liked the guy,” Daniel added with an apologetic shrug. His face suddenly twisted, and putting a hand to his mouth, he doubled over.

  "Daniel?" Katelyn asked frantically, touching her brother's back. "Holy—"

  Daniel removed her hand and let loose a stream of vomit. He coughed, spit and puked some more.

  “I think all that blood is getting to me,” Daniel said.

  Melissa, getting over her initial revulsion, looked at Katelyn.

  "Katelyn? Your vote."

  "I'm with Daniel… Eww, but that's it, let it all—hey, watch the shoes!"

  "A yes, and three no's, looks like we're watching,” Melissa said. "But don't worry Sierra; you're welcome to back up Aaron at any time."

  "Screw you,” Sierra spat, raising her chin. "Goethes don't need help."

  Overhearing their conversation, Akane twirled her flaming swords, confident the one on one would be free of interruption. Pointing at Aaron with a blade, she smiled. "Let's dance, boy."

  Aaron pointed two fingers at the monk. The tips of his fingers flickered with a charge and he disappeared into a streak of lightening before reappearing half a second later in front of the monk. Striking up with a hand engulfed in electricity, he aimed for her heart, intent on shoving the hand through her chest as one would a sword.

  Akane side-stepped him and slammed her sword’s hilt between his shoulder blades. The downwards force smashed his face into the ground. Flipping a sword around, she slashed at him in a fiery downwards arc.

  "Aaron!" Sierra screamed, starting towards him.

  Katelyn caught her by the arm and smiled. "Goethes don't need help, right?"

  Sierra didn't answer, her eyes not leaving her cousin for a second.

  Aaron anticipated the strike by instinct alone and flipping over managed to move out of the way. Getting off with a searing graze that cut deep along his lower jaw he didn’t feel the pain due to his pumping adrenaline and quickly scrambled to his feet.

  Akane, her gaze level, allowed her opponent to put forth a distance of but a few feet between them. "Now you know the difference between us,” the monk said, her voice reeking with arrogance. "One is a master, the other a fool. Now, hand over the rod before you get hurt, schoolboy. You try my patience."

  "In your dreams,” Aaron retorted, his voice quavering and tone laced with fear. Nevertheless, he set his jaw and gathered his courage. Curling the fingers of both hands, he closed his eyes.

  "Oh?" The woman teased. "So you still want to play?" Her eyes, however, were weary and watchful, like a cat's.

  A flare of yellow sprang from Aaron's palm as lightening streaked out from its center.

  Though unable to anticipate the type of attack, Akane was experienced in combat beyond her years. Therefore, she watched him warily and hoped to anticipate any surprises by observing the slightest movement or mannerism that could potentially hint at his plan. He didn’t make her wait long and Aaron’s obvious tilt of the wrist was all it took for her to be up in an aerial.

  Aaron smiled slyly and Akane landed as the electrical current bent. Desperation worked hand in hand with human will. The young woman was the product of hard work. Her childhood had been dedicated to endless drills of speed and mental fortitude. Such practice allowed a reaction so swift as to—in that moment—surpass time and space.

  Bringing up her blades with a yell, Akane met the attack head on. Metal clashed with lightening as the blades sliced through it in an X, the flames attached to the swords turning purple. The contact forced the lightning around her in four different directions.

  Sweeping off his attack, the monk darted in with speed too swift to counter, let alone react to. Knocking him down in a spinning side kick, she stood over him breathing hard, and pointed a katana at him. Its flames, flowing back to red, licked at the inches above his throat.

  "This is a pitiful game and you an unworthy opponent,” Akane sneered. "I've wasted enough time with you. Now hand over the rod or else the next breath you take will be your last."

  "Screw you,” Aaron croaked with a laugh. His voice was forced and eyes wide. He was scared shitless.

  Akane returned his remark with a sword to the shoulder. Plowing through bone, the steel pinned him to the ground. The sword's wielder however, did not flinch, her face expressionless, merciless, impassive, ruthless.

  The air filled with Aaron's screams and the smell of burning flesh. The flames caught on fabric and began to spread. The woman, sheathing the other katana, ignored Aaron's howls and reaching down, retrieved the rod from his jacket.

  Chapter 35

  Unforeseen

  Akane retrieved her sword as she stepped over Aaron’s body, her eyes fixed on Melissa.

  “Ah, so our mystic was right after all, you did survive,” the monk said, lifting her sword. “And now you stand beside a real eleven who’s weaker than most five’s. How ironic.”

  Panicking, Sierra put her hands together impulsively and stomped. A slab of rock erupted from the earth at her command and slammed into Akane’s chest, forcing the rod from her hand.

  Landing with a thud, the rod rolled down a slight slope only to halt before Daniel, who picked it up in awe.

  "Sierra, wha-what are you doing?" Katelyn asked as Sierra shook her off and ran to her cousin's side.

  "I'm going to heal him!" the Goethe hollered over her shoulder. Raising the ground beneath her and Aaron, she molded from the earth a flat slab. Propelling it forth, she caused the mineral to plow through the ground towards the creek.

  A streak of blue light shot down from the sky and the monk in blue robes, Haruki, graced the bystanders with his presence. He paused his chaos with the arrival of his companion and watched the battle from atop the edge of the felled building.

  "Awe…she got
caught off guard,” he said.

  Looking down upon the limp figure of Akane with her caved-in chest, he sighed and shook his head as the clone burst into white fire. The flames incinerated the grass beneath it before dissipating.

  Haruki folded his hands behind him and shot an accusing look at the tier ones. Alex felt a chill go up his spine. The monk’s slate blue eyes were colder than stone and Alex had the unique feeling that the monk wanted to kill them. “Can I assume that you defeated my disciple?” he asked.

  Alex raised his hands up with meek innocence and shook his head. "No, no, that was our friend—er—our classmate's doing. We had nothing to do with it."

  "Yep, so don't mind us; we're just a couple of innocent bystanders,” Daniel said backing the blond up.

  The blue monk was joined by the one in gold, Takumi, who, dropping to the ground, peered down at the burned patch of ground. "Akane?" he asked.

  "She’s out,” Haruki replied.

  "I see…and what of the rod?"

  "Those students have it."

  "Why haven't you retrieved it then, Haruki?"

  "I was watching Akane’s replica when you fell out of the sky."

  "Well, anyway the school is so expansive,” Takumi said. “But...land wasted on useless statues and worthless buildings. I don’t see the purpose of five courtyards when there’s a cafeteria and three outdoor pools if that building," He waved a hand at the Commons. "Has a heated one indoors. Kaiga pours more of their money into pampering their prodigies than their poor."

  "So I take it you enjoyed your tour?"

  "More or less. But enough, we have yet to claim the rod."

  Alex, didn’t like where their conversation was going. Putting his hands together, he began to break down random sections of the tier building. Metal, concrete, glass and wood were dispersed into sand-like particles and began to swirl about Alex.

  The other bystanders had already made a break for it, realizing as soon as Aaron was stabbed that the party was over.

  Holding out his hand to Daniel, Alex took the rod and stuck it in his pocket. With the rod as a key to the Dark Realm, Alex knew that having one left twelve between him and his inheritance.