Fallen Angels (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi) (The Unmaker Series Book 2)

by Casey Herzog

  By the hundredth pushup, he collapsed. His body was sweaty and his wounds were aching and swollen, but he had accomplished what he wanted. A newfound energy coursed through his body and mind that allowed him to stand and stretch as if he had just gotten up from a long rest.

  His enemies had tried to end his stay at the University, but they had made a mistake in underestimating his capabilities.

  If you think that’s going to be enough to take me out, you’re very mistaken. I’m not finished here…

  …In fact, I’m just getting warmed up.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Survivalist

  The Lucid Dreamers crossed him once more, for the first time since he’d distanced himself from them.

  Shortly after waking up, Dante found an old map of the campus in his room before setting out to search for his class. It helped him discover not only the way to the Wilderness Camp — the area where his class with Professor Webster would take place — but also the directions to a smaller canteen area where he had a quick breakfast of French toast and coffee.

  Now though, he walked just behind the dozen-strong group, their awkward whispers reaching him in unwanted scraps. He didn’t care what they thought of him, but he had no choice but to listen to what they said. Only Aaron and Andrew kept silent while the rest talked, their faces almost made of stone as their wordless fury ate at them.

  About time you took some rejection and learned some humility you arrogant prick, Dante thought as he watched Andrew walking. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for other students to step between him and them, and Dante felt relief as a pale-white girl with short brown hair approached and distracted his attention from the ugly things the Dreamers were saying about him.

  “I’m glad you’re okay, Dante,” she said with a cute smile, and the Healer wondered how she knew his name. “Oh, sorry. As you may have realized, everyone knows about what happened to you. There have been fights here before, ugly ones, but never a murder attempt. I’m guessing they underestimated your gifts, hoped you’d bleed out or something. You’d be a great loss to humanity; I’m sure of it. Even if we don’t know each other well yet,” she added with a blush, and Dante felt the color rising to his own face.

  “Well…thanks, I guess?” he managed to reply shyly, and watched the other girl smile once again and speed up, leaving him behind. A group of boys approached next, mostly lads his age.

  “You’re ‘ard,” the smallest and loudest of them said with an accent. “Clearly can take a knifin’ and come out like it’s nothin’. Tough little bugger.” The boy had blue eyes and the honest, quick smile of a mischief-maker. A little bastard, Callum would often say of similar children who arrived at the community. “Name’s Keith,” the boy said with an outstretched hand crossing the space between them.

  “Dante. I should be dead, yeah, but it definitely feels like I am, so there’s that. Let me know if you see maggots crawling out of me, in any case.” Laughter followed his joke, and Dante couldn’t help but grin.

  They joked together until they reached the main doors of the building, where an entire third of the First Term student force was already making its way towards the Wilderness Camp, a military-like training ground about twenty minutes to the north of the First Term Building. The only roads that led to the building were old dirt trails through bushes and between lines of trees.

  Dante pushed the entrance hall’s doors open, and the sunlight hit him with the intensity of a thousand lamps at once, causing him to wince and lift a hand.

  “Can’t blame ye,” Keith laughed, “Sun is bloody bright today.”

  There was already a steady stream of students heading off the main paths that connected the buildings and following the thin trail between green lawns that disappeared into a forest.

  “Have any of you visited this camp yet?” Dante asked curiously without directing the question at anyone in particular.

  Everyone shook their head or dissented otherwise, but Keith had his own opinion.

  “Ye’d be surprised; I’ve ‘eard a lot ‘bout this Webster guy. Proper dictator, always watching, but never correcting ye ‘till yer done. Once yer finished doing whatever it is ‘e’s watching ye do, ‘e comes over and unleashes ‘ell. Even smacks ye ‘round the head a few times if ‘e’s feeling like it,” the boy added.

  “We’ve met. He’s definitely not a pacifist from what I’ve seen,” Dante chuckled. “Are you part of a group as well?” All of this friendliness from Keith and Co. surely had a goal. At any minute he’d be forced to listen to a lecture about his potential and how they could help him develop or feel safer, blah, blah, blah. He’d heard it probably ten times already from twenty different sources since reappearing in public.

  To Dante’s surprise, Keith shook his head.

  “Not officially, no. Better off like this, just mates who stick together at all times. Ye could always become another of us. Not like ye’d have to leave yer current group or anything.”

  “I’ll think about it, Keith. Thanks.” Dante then noticed that they’d walked all the way to the edges of the forest. Ahead of them, scores of students were already entering the tightly-packed woods. The Healer’s eyes widened as he caught sight of something, moments before his heart sunk: there were a collection of obstacles within the trees, set as malicious traps to slow the students down and keep them from reaching their destination within. “Be wary of tripwire, guys,” he warned, “I’ve seen how dangerous it is; don’t want to see any of you hurt this early into our class.”

  “Yes, sir!” Keith said exaggeratedly, and at first Dante was unsure if he was being mocked by the other boy. A quick look at the others confirmed it, and the Healer’s mouth tightened.

  They fanned out immediately, taking Dante’s words into account and testing with thin sticks and fallen branches to verify if there was any wire or string tied between trees.

  A shrill cry reached them from nearby to their right, and the gang of friends caught sight of a girl at the precise moment she was swallowed into a pit built just underneath her.

  “Don’t bother,” Keith told Dante as the Healer ran over to help the girl out of the hole, “Webster is watching. Any sign of weakness and ‘e has you turn around and return to the building. That girl was weak and unobservant; she got what she deserved. We’re still here because we haven’t fallen asleep out here. Don’t let them fuck yer reputation because they feel awkward with ye saving someone else. And if you decide you must save someone, don’t let them catch you doing so.” He tapped his nose and gave a slight nod. “Maybe I’ll explain much of what I’ve been told to ye soon, eh Dante?”

  The Healer disagreed with Keith’s assessment of things, but he nodded. The other boy was a useful asset after all, clearly having been informed of how things worked around the University. He would come in handy as an ally, and perhaps could help Dante get to the bottom of his mysterious attack. I haven’t forgotten, he told his unknown enemies. I’ll find you.

  An entire section of the forest floor had been cleared out at one point and replaced with tarp covered in fallen leaves and stones set strategically to weigh the material’s corners down. Dante saw it first, warning the rest so that they could circle it. A group of students behind them was not as observant, and the Healer heard the screams as they collapsed into the wide cavity a few moments later.

  “This forest didn’t look as deep from the outside,” he pointed out after a while. “How far are we from the camp?”

  “As far as he wants us to be,” Keith said. The others muttered complaints in low voices, and Dante was still clueless.

  “Do you mean…he’s generating this place somehow?”

  “His ability,” a tall boy nearby said simply, “His rules, his land. I’d kill to be able to lose my enemies in an endless maze of trees like this.”

  So Webster could form environments, Dante realized. It was a sobering moment for him, considering he’d been used being the only one to possess such powerful abilities until then. Professor Si
las’ gifts were just as impressive and useful. Just imagine him during the war, playing with the Outsiders until he was ready to go in for the kill. The possibilities would be endless.

  “Look out!” Keith cried, and Dante was shocked back into reality by a growling figure that swiped its claws just inches from his face. The subhuman’s scarred visage was an ugly one, and it came forward again, this time targeting another of their group. Keith caught the creature by its torn shirt and pulled it away from his friend before throwing it to the ground. His foot came down ruthlessly on its skull and Dante noticed he’d had the wisdom to bring boots to the class, helping him crush the mutant’s face into the soft earth before another boy lifted a nearby rock and slammed it down into the subhuman’s skull.

  The Healer’s eyes widened as he saw the absolute efficiency with which they killed their threat without batting an eye and decided to stick closer to the group than he had before.

  “Is Webster out to test us, or kill us?” he asked incredulously.

  “Bit of both, really,” Keith laughed.

  An explosion made them turn, and they heard the wounded cries of a boy a moment later. Despite their instincts screaming at them to help him, nobody moved. Dante’s blood went cold as he felt himself betraying everything Callum, Johanna and Margaret had ever taught him, but he had caused enough trouble already and couldn’t expect forgiveness for future faults. I’m sorry, unknown student, but you’re going to need to pray that the University’s medical staff reach you before it’s too late.

  A flare shot up from a mile away, and they all looked up at it. It flew high up into the air, before bursting and forming a figure far above them. The figure resembled a face — Webster’s face, Dante saw.

  “Guess he’s seen enough, then,” Dante said, and they made their way toward him.

  He sat on the stump of an oak in the middle of a clearing, a dagger in his hand and a whetstone on his knee as he sharpened the blade with a look of concentration. Silas Webster was an intimidating man even when silent and thoughtful; the look on his face clearly told the students that while his body was right there in front of them, his mind was somewhere else. Probably somewhere in his memories, Dante considered. We all have those moments.

  Concentric circles had been carved outward from Webster’s position in the mud of the clearing, the smallest one several feet away from the stump. It was clear to the arriving students that they were to place themselves within the circles and await the professor’s commands. Only a dozen students were already at their positions in the circle nearest to the man, proudly standing straight and expecting him to begin talking.

  The stream of students from earlier turned into a trickle of arrivals, as each group entered the clearing in slow fashion, some of them looking dirty or even wounded in several cases. The forest has not been as generous to all of us, Dante observed.

  The Lucid Dreamers entered the area with Andrew at their head, a brief grimace spreading across his face as he realized they were late to the party. Aaron — Chameleon — stood at one side of the tall boy, Beth — Liquidus — at the other. The group leader’s lieutenants looked equally disappointed at the outcome of their first class, and the freckled boy with the shape-shifting abilities glared at Dante for a moment before looking away.

  Only when a couple of dozen more students had arrived did Webster finally shift and stand on his tree stump. His eyes scanned the mass of children and teenagers, taking them all in with a cold, hard look. His mouth had a marginal twist of displeasure to it, and he didn’t seem to be about to praise their performance in his first test.

  “Oh boy,” Keith whispered quietly, earning him a sharp look from the professor.

  “You,” he pointed at the boy with the easy smiles and the boisterous personality, “Come over here now.”

  Keith lifted his hands, but knew it was useless. The other students observed the exchange, some trying hard to stifle mocking smiles, others looking genuinely worried about what was about to happen. Dante hoped Webster would lay back on the punches, although he’d make sure to heal Keith’s wounds if necessary.

  The short boy stood trembling slightly before the professor, and Webster stepped off the stump and onto the ground. Immediately, his hand shot out and grabbed Keith by the collar of his shirt. A collective gasp spread out among the gathered, mostly because the dagger in the professor’s other hand gave the impression that he was about to execute the student in his grip.

  No such thing happened, and Webster sheathed his blade.

  “What is your name, boy?”

  “My—I—I’m Keith Farnsworth, sir. I didn’t mean to say anything, if ye excuse me. It was just me being dumb, and—”

  “Enough, Keith.” Webster let the boy go and patted his shirt down to smooth the wrinkles he’d left with his grip. “Your outburst was pathetic, but unlike most of those gathered here today, your performance in the field was not. All those who crossed my forest alongside this loud little fool, step forth.”

  Dante glanced to each side, nervously looking at the other boys who had tagged along with him since they’d left the First Term Building. He was the first to step forward, looking up at the professor standing before him. The man had seemed ruthless enough in previous encounters, but he was certainly showing a darker side of himself that Dante had not expected.

  “Healer,” Webster growled, beckoning the rest closer. “Students,” he began, raising his voice several decibels so all the gathered students could hear, “This band of fools did better than any other group or individual among you. They handled the threats I threw at them, evading them when necessary and combating them when not; they also didn’t make the mistake of returning for fallen allies or strangers like other idiots did. I am not teaching you to become cold, heartless machines,” Webster barked, “But in an environment like this, you have to keep going or you’re dead!” He paused, gathering breath.

  “Some of you standing before me look like you’ve trained in survival, been through mutant-infested hell or even had your own fair share of combat, but all of that seemed to count for shit back there in the forest. You were a disgrace,” he said, before looking down at Dante and the rest, “Oh, and you lot weren’t exactly perfect, either.”

  Keith smiled and opened his mouth, before one of the lads looked at him and shook his head wearily.

  “Good decision to save yer’ breath there, Keithy-boy,” Webster growled, mocking the child’s accent. He turned back to the students in general. “Don’t feel too bad, guys and girls. I’m here for a reason, and it’s to make you not suck as much as you did just now. This will be our first class together, but I’ve gathered what I need to know. Currently, you’re taking your lives for granted, and that just isn’t working for me. This world is cruel, unsafe and ready to eat you up and shit you out at a moment’s notice. Question here is: can you fight your way out of the heap of dung once it’s finished?”

  His words hung in the air and nobody responded. Silas Webster stood silently in front of them for a few more seconds before pointing towards the Lucid Dreamers.

  “I’ve heard a lot about your group, King. A competent bunch, so the other teachers say. I think I should decide that for myself. Come forward, bring a companion.”

  King eagerly took a few steps away from his group and nodded at Beth to join him. The girl glanced at Dante as she approached, eyeing him in a way he didn’t quite understand. He had felt attracted to Beth since laying eyes on her, but his split with the group surely had ended any potential friendship between them.

  “Yes, sir?” Andrew asked proudly, keeping his head high.

  Webster’s eyes glinted with certain malice as he turned towards Dante, and the Healer knew what was coming before he said it.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve met Mr. Popular here, Dante the Healer?”

  Dante clenched his teeth, but tried not to show his anger. Clearly, Webster was already aware of their fractious relationship.

  “Yes, sir,” Andrew repeated,
his tone remaining neutral, but his expression growing colder.

  “Very well, then.” Webster took a few steps back and motioned with his hands. A lump of bushes to one side of the clearing descended into the ground and revealed a weapons rack. “You shall be the first to duel. I’ve studied your survival skills — now it’s time for combat. Let the battles begin!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Humiliation

  Rusty hinges creaked in the darkness and a steel door on one of the warehouse’s walls slowly opened. The fearful whimpers of the chamber’s occupants echoed in the large space, and several of them huddled closer together in terror of what was coming next.

  Black, ringed eyes stared into the darkness. Their owner, a pale, black-haired boy no older than twelve, stood at the entrance of the cold storage space with a pistol in his right hand. He smiled as he looked into the terrified eyes of the captives: around two dozen teenagers and small children trembled or whispered prayers as they caught sight of him and the look on his face. Only one of the group’s members, the oldest teenager, remained calm and composed as the youth’s eyes scanned the group for signs of resistance.