by Shiloh White
She locked it behind her?
I couldn't tell whether this lady was intelligent or just plain crazy, but I was mad either way.
“Lucy, we're not done yet!” Lara shouted behind me. I turned around and saw I'd been lucky enough to trip her into the hole I'd made from getting the last Agent with my acid paint. Her head and arms were above the hole and she was pulling the rest of her out. I estimated about six seconds from the time she got out to the time I would have a syringe in my back.
Fortunately it only took four seconds for my acid paint to melt a hole big enough to run through. I stabbed the door through with my paintbrush and the acid spread outward in every direction. I helped the process along, flecking more spots of paint until I could get through the hole without burning my skin or clothes.
“Run as fast as you can, Lucy!” Lara cackled behind me. “It won't matter. I'll still catch you!"
43. No Time For Puns—Running for My Life Here
On the other side of the door was a hallway. To my right was a large archway, almost like the one back at the entrance. To my left, another closed door.
Behind me came the thumping sound of running feet. I only had a few seconds until Lara reached me again. I made a split second decision to go left. I had a hunch the Headmistress had gone deeper into whatever this insane place was in order to conduct her insane plan. I turned and ran toward the closed door.
“Lucy? You sure you don't want to try fighting again? You almost had me the first time!” Lara called out behind me. I gave no response, saving the breath for running. In the meantime, my thoughts consumed my brain.
How is she alive? How was she able to be shapeshift without her Zone? Where'd the Headmistress go with Woodstock? Where's Dart? Am I going to die? Is Scott going to die? Am I going to die? Is Chug going to die? Am I going to die?
Am I going to die? My brain echoed as I reached the closed door. I grabbed the left handle, and it held fast. I turned around and saw Lara sprinting at me, devouring whatever seconds of lead I thought I had on her.
“Am I going to die?” I whispered aloud, then I covered my mouth with my left hand. Oh great. Now my brain's broken, and it's leaking through my mouth.
With my other hand, I desperately yanked on the other handle and it creaked open. Should have tried the other door first, my thoughts taunted. Was it possible for your own thoughts to be sarcastic to you?
Yes, my thoughts answered.
I ran into the room, which looked like a normal classroom—if Harry Potter was normal. Everything inside looked old and made of stone and wood and almost straight out of the fictional school for wizards. It must have been one of the oldest classrooms they had on campus. But I didn't stick around to check it all out. I scoped the room and found the door at the back.
This time, I didn't wait to see if the handle would work. Lara was on my tail and catching up. I pushed my red brush through the center of the large wooden door and it reduced to molten mush in a matter of seconds. Unfortunate thing was, it was enough for Lara to catch up.
“Got ya now!” she yelled from behind me. Before I left the room, her syringe embedded itself into the door frame to the right of my face. I froze for a second, then kept running.
“AGH! Quit running and just hold still!” she shrieked.
I turned back only to open a new hole with my paint, then I kept running. I replenished the red paint to my brush, and glanced back to see Lara leaping over the hole I made.
I guess when she could see them coming, things like holes didn't do much to her after all.
Exiting the classroom led me into another hallway, and Lara closed in on me fast. I felt her hand brush my wrist. I turned around and slashed my paintbrush at Lara, but she learned from her mistake. The scar she endured from me kept her from staying close enough for me to reach her a second time. She doubled back, diving to the ground to avoid the stream of acid paint coming for her. The paint missed her, but a blob of it connected with the chunk of wall between her and I, melting another hole. An opening I could escape through. Maybe. As long as I beat Lara to it.
I ran at the wall, bookin' it for that hole, but Lara wasn't letting that happen. She grabbed the hood of the cloak and yanked me back into the hallway. In the process, I bumped my shoulder on the hole and it burned a chunk out of the cloak. Despite the pain, I felt lucky the cloak hadn't allowed the burn to reach my shoulder.
When I got pulled back into the hallway, it wasn't Lara who stared up at me. It was Bartholomew Stark, complete with a shockingly evil expression on his face.
“You're not goin' anywhere, girl,” he growled. And I almost believed him, until he spoke again. “I'm gonna end you just like I ended—excuse me, I mean—” Like the snap of a finger, Stark's raspy, scraggly voice had disappeared been replaced by Lara's higher-pitched female one.
“I'm still working out the kinks,” she says to me, Stark's long hunting knife turning into a familiar syringe in her hands. “But who knew I could completely shape-shift?”
Catching me by surprise, Lara chose that moment to stab me. I thought about moving out of the way, but we were too close for me to go anywhere. I pointed my red brush at Lara's syringe and a glob of acid paint shot out. It burned her weapon from her fingers and she let it go, burning into the ground. Her other hand that was grabbing the cloak's hood let go to console the one in pain.
I ran through the hole and into another classroom, feeling more panicked than a moment ago.
You almost died, my thoughts reminded me.
I told them to shut up, but I felt my body shaking. I forced it to keep moving forward, hopefully towards my friends. “I can't let this slide now, Lucy! One scar is all I can stand from a stupid fearful girl like you. Now turn around and fight me!”
I did NOT turn around and fight her. I did, however, turn around and paint a bunch of lines of acid paint just above the hole I made. The first few lines melted quick, and the last couple took longer to melt down portions of the wall. Then the rest crumbled in front of Lara. She growled in anger and I knew I didn't have much time before she was hot on my trail again.
I ran towards the door to this classroom, but stopped halfway there. That way would just take me back into the hallway—with Lara. I shuddered and changed course, running over to the wall across the room. I replenished my paintbrush, and was about to flick the wall when a loud THUMP! came from the door. Lara was trying to bust in. Another THUMP! and a crack became visible right down the middle of the door. I yelped and flicked my paintbrush at the wall on the opposite side of the room. The acid flew onto the stone wall, but nothing melted off. Nothing even sizzled.
Another THUMP! came, then the crash of the door flying across.
“Looks like you're outta juice,” Lara said. “And out of time, too.” An evil grin crept on to her face while she crept closer to me, twirling her syringe in her fingers.
“Wait!” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. “Your face! How are you—"
“Showing the right emotion?” Lara asked. She rolled her eyes and looked at the wall behind me. “It won't make sense unless I tell you the stupid story.”
Then I saw a glint in her gold eye, and her expression got a little crazy. “I remember feeling the knife go in. It hurt,” she said. “Like, really hurt. But then,"—she took a step back and gazed up at the classroom's ceiling—"It was like someone reached out from above and pulled me out of the entire situation. The whole thing was surreal, you know?"
I didn't know. So far everything she'd explained was making about zero sense. But I was still alive, and that was the start I had. So I nodded slowly, letting my right hand fall to my side, and my left hand into my art bag. If I kept distracting her, I might have a chance at getting fresh paint on my brush.
“Then this guy,” Lara continued, “who sounded a lot like Disorder...he whispered to me. Said I was important. Too important to die, and too important to waste any more time in that Zone."
Lara took another step toward me, her ey
es filled with longing. I flinched, pushing my left hand—and my art bag as a result—behind my back. I could almost reach the red canister.
“He dusted me off,” she said softly, “like he actually cared, you know? Then he whispered in my ear, a secret to greater strength. To be freed from my past, and—"
Lara gasped, and stepped back from me. She covered her mouth with her hands, and pointed behind me.
A shiver ran down my spine, and then it jumped back up and spread to the rest of my nervous system. I only felt like that once since I'd been in the Dust.
“And—” Lara tried once more, but no more words would come out.
“He's right here,” the voice similar to Disorder's whispered in my ear.
44. This Isn’t Fair
Could I get a moment where I didn't have to face someone I thought I'd never see again?
Takao ran.
I watched Lara get stabbed and sort of...spontaneously burst into smoke.
Stark? For sure dead. (I swear he was. You tell me how anyone—or rather, anyone's consciousness survives being buried underneath a building.)
I pulled a one-eighty and saw his head peeking out of a dark circle. I stepped back from both him and Lara, watching as he walked into the classroom. His insane smile and his intense green eyes made my heart pump twice as fast. He wore the same green suit, straightening his purple tie as he looked me over.
“Damian,” I said. My voice was supposed to sound angry and intimidating, but it came out an octave higher, like I was afraid or something. (Yeah, right.)
“Lucy, it's been quite a while,” he said. “Or I suppose it has for you. As for me, well...” he stopped and turned his head slowly to Lara, who smiled real big like a six-year old ready for picture day. “You'd be surprised at what you could do in a week,” he finished.
She looked love-struck. Or starstruck. Something-struck. I couldn't tell. It was all disgusting.
“You saved Lara? Why? Better yet, how?”
Damian gave a small laugh.
“That's all you want to know?” he asked. “There are much bigger things at play, Lucy. Haven't you heard? Your friend Dart will be quite the catalyst.”
“What have you done with him?” I tried to fling my paintbrush at him, but I couldn't move. He was using his stupid power again to petrify me.
“Oh, I haven't done anything,” Damian chuckled. “The Headmistress on the other hand, and what she's going to do for me...You know, I think it would just be easier to show you."
He walked up to me, Lara close behind. I tried to get away, but you might as well have watched a fish flail around out of water. My heart began pounding out of my chest as he closed the distance between him and I. Damian stretched out his hand to Lara. She took it gladly. His other hand went to the top of my head. He pulled the cloak's hood off my forehead and forced me into a kneeling position.
Then he Zone-Hopped us.
For a moment, I was enveloped in darkness and then it disappeared just as fast. My body didn't stretch into spaghetti noodles. And it went by fast. We just...appeared.
Instead of the classroom, we now stood—I knelt—on a balcony that looked over a giant room from a second-floor vantage point. I guessed by the amount of tables, chairs, and sheer amount of space that the room was something of a main mess hall or assembly room.
Down the middle of the room, there was a walkway where no tables had been placed. And the Headmistress was being led down the walkway. Either side of it was littered with Depression Agents. A lot more than our eleven friends stood at attention, trickling down behind the rest of the tables. Some were sitting in the chairs, and some even sat or stood on the tables, but all gave their attention to the Headmistress.
Still in his sleeveless tee, Woodstock accompanied his mother up a large staircase at the front of the room. She rested at the top in a beautifully crafted, tall wooden chair. When she sat, the Agents cheered, pumping a deafening sound into the room. She waved her hand, and the applause silenced. At this, everyone's attention then drifted to the newest silhouette making his way onstage from a side entrance. He stood with his hands folded on the opposite side of Woodstock.
“That's Dart!” I gasped. “Dart, up—” I tried to call out, but Damian snapped his fingers and Lara literally dove to cover my mouth. Damian looked down at me and shook his head.
“It's very rude to interrupt an important moment such as this one,” he said. “The ceremony is just beginning. If it goes wrong, your friend might walk away from it. Do you understand?”
As angry as I was—enough to bite Lara's hand—I nodded, or I would've, if I could move.
“Was that a nod?” Damian asked. “I felt it was going to be a nod. Was it?
What was I supposed to do right now to help anyone besides wait? I couldn't move any part of my body but my mouth anyway. And if Lara was going to cover it the whole time if I didn't cooperate, I felt it was better to.
“M-hmph,” I said, muffled behind Lara's hand.
“Good,” Damian said. He gestured to Lara and she let go of my face.
“The students called it that, too,” I said. “A ceremony. What's it for?"
“Leave it to Lucy to ask all the questions.” Damian said. He walked up to the balcony and leaned against it.
“Your buddy down there,” jabbing a finger at Dart, “is gonna go through a process. When it's over, he'll know nothing but alliance with the Headmistress. And what's more, every one of those Agents down there that are still indifferent..."
He grinned again, and it was obvious he couldn't keep his excitement in. “After watching Dart, they'll all make the same decision. And then, that power of alliance to the Headmistress will re-awaken her Zone."
Re-awaken her Zone? Like what he tried to do to mine?
“You mean this Zone is Dormant?” I asked. “Can that happen to an Anchor Zone?” Damian stopped for a moment and twitched. The same chill from before danced on my skin, pulling up the tips of hair on my arms. For a split second I could move, but by the time I realized it, I was frozen again.
“No matter the size or strength of a Depression Zone,” Damian said in a scholarly voice, “it is still just that: a Depression Zone. Therefore, the same rules still apply—one could be Dormant. Just as this ceremony will awaken it, and then..."
“Then Disorder will have the stepping stone he needs to rise!” Lara shouted in triumph.
✽✽✽
“He'll what?” I asked, flabbergasted.
“Lara, lower your voice!” Damian whispered violently. For a moment, the scholarly vibe he put out was replaced with anger. He turned to her and glared, making her flinch.
Damian turned back to face me, his scholar outlook composed again. “Lara is correct,' he said. “We plan to bring Disorder back through this active Zone.”
A million questions raced in my head. The winner was: “Wha?"
“You really didn't think a sacrifice was the only way to bring him back, did you?” Damian chuckled. I felt myself blushing. It didn't matter that I didn't know that. So why did I care? Why was I blushing? Who cares if I didn't know?
“It's quite doable,” Damian continued. “Disorder just needs a large amount of concentrated Depression, and the Headmistress is already blinded by her obsession for him, so I used Takao to nudge her into setting this up."
“Takao's working for you?”
“I can't believe it either! All the boy asked in return was safety. And he did an excellent job in return. This Zone, and everyone inside will be the perfect stepping stone for Disorder."
“So everyone that's in the Zone now...”
“We'll all die,” Lara said with a (cray-cray) laugh. “But it's a small price to pay—” she began to answer, but Damian held up his hand to pause her.
“You have a truly deep devotion to Disorder, Lara,” Damian said. Then he smiled, and his face morphed into one of deviance. “However,” he continued, walking over to the ledge, “we will have the necessary means of escape, and
a safe spot to witness the rebirth of chaos."
“You're insane!” I said. Fear filled me with energy to fight, but Damian's power kept me immobile.
“I thought we came to that conclusion the last time we spoke,” Damian chuckled. Then he came off of the ledge and slid his hands into his pockets. The vibe in the air changed from a condescending one to a suave and slick one.
“But just in case you don't believe it,” he said, “insane is the new sane. Now quiet down. The best part is almost here."
I looked down over the balcony, and saw a pair of Agents bring a young man up to the front of the room. His head was wrapped in what looked like an old rag, leaving only his eyes visible. But there was no mistaking his uniform as the black garb of the Depression Force. That was Scott down there, and the rag must have been the pitiful cloth he tore off of Lionel's cloak.
I clenched my fists, but the rest of my body wouldn't move to save my friend. (I had no clue what I was going to manage from atop a balcony, but it would be better than being immobilized.) It was like Damian gave me just enough freedom to struggle, but not move.
Down on the stage, one of the two Agents led Scott to the Headmistress' throne and forced him to kneel.
“Let this signify the future of the Depression Force!” the Headmistress declared.
The Agents in the crowd begin to cheer. The other Agent that helped bring up Scott revealed a black knife from his sleeve and handed it to Dart with a bow of respect.
I looked on in disbelief, as my new friend was about to kill my old one.
45. No Fighting In the Hall! (Okay, Just This Once.)
Dart took the knife from the Agent and stepped up to Scott, who was struggling against the bonds the Agents had put him in. I fought back tears while the two Agents each grabbed one of Scott's arms and held him down.
Dart looked up at the Headmistress, and she nodded down at him in approval. He looked back down at the knife in his hand, and gripped it tightly. He stepped closer to Scott and I knew the Headmistress must have had her brainwashing haunches as deep—or deeper—in his head as Woodstock, who watched on from the side. Then Dart thrust the knife forward.