A/N: Why has this taken so long, you ask? I'm at school. Notice the present tense—that means updates will remain slow. I wanted to warn you. Yes, I know almost all of you are at school too, and still manage to update, but I major in creative writing—novel writing on the side really just isn't going to happen.
But, I really do enjoy this story and don't want to quit; it just might be on hold for awhile. As in until my next chance to go home, which is Thanksgiving. Don't kill me, please; I'll try to keep these little random spurts of editing up, but like I said, please don't become too expectant.
That's also why I haven't been reviewing/reading any of your works, which I want to express deep regret for. I love reading some of the stories on here, and I miss 'em dearly. Especially a shout-out to MysticalPearl—I really enjoyed chatting with you, and I wish all the best for you and your writing.
Wow, that was a sappy paragraph.
Until I we meet again, then. Well, not really meet, but until I come back on and…oh, never mind. Enjoy this craptastical chapter, and reviews would be loved, though I probably won't be able to respond to all. (That sounds so bad, like I'm oppressed or something, when I'm really the happiest I've probably ever been.)
To recap:
Immediately, the weight lifted off of my back; now able to breathe, I scrambled up and broke into a sprint.
He kicked up metaphorical dust; I could beat him in flight, but not running. Right on his heals, I just narrowed my concentration onto nothing but his back. Catch him, catch him, catch him…It was a trick, a goal to help me ignore the renewed shooting.
Where were the others? No, don't think, run.
He skidded into a turn, disappeared behind the navy-blue dumpster; there was a spattering of clangs as bullets punctured holes in it.
A searing pain in my leg; I kept pumping. Serene thoughts floated by, buoyed by my adrenaline. I must have been shot…I wonder if it's bad…
The sharp turn made me stumble; I fell to my hands, pushed back up…the door was open, Fang holding it…
The narrow aisle formed by the two dumpsters closed in around me. More shouting; so much firing it was a drone. He was a dark blur. A neon light. Cold; ice chips stinging my arms. Almost—almost…Then suddenly there was no wind.
Disclaimer: I don't own this. If I did, I'd do a better job.
Claimer: This is my idea. PLEASE DON'T STEAL.
Chapter 26
I'd made it inside. Yippee.
My welcoming consisted of both wailing sirens and spinning lights; it was like looking at the world through a piece of red cellophane paper. Not exactly the glitzy paparazzi I'd been expecting, but on the other hand, I hadn't run right into the barrel of a gun. Yet.
Guess I couldn't stop for a break.
Automatically scanned the loading room for them—there was my Flock—they were all standing on their own, even the dog. Wait, no, where was—
The bang of the door closing echoed, and I jumped, reminded of gunfire. Spinning around, I spotted the missing member—Fang was running towards a stack of wooden crates that lined the entire wall.
Ah, yes, barricade the door…Good plan.
I forced myself back into a jog, wincing at my burning calf, and yelled, "Move it, guys!"
They immediately scattered from their huddle and grabbed the heaviest things they could move. There was a lot of choice, I noticed—we were in the back storage room of the building, with a utilitarian build. If not for all the red alarms, it would've been gray, and the ceiling was high enough I could've flown in tight circles.
Fang and I hooked our fingers under a slat of wood and pulled, attempting to drag the crate across to the door. My feet slid around on the smooth concrete; he did no better.
"How about this?" called Nudge.
"Perfect," I muttered, not even glancing up. I doggedly hauled—it'd moved a foot or so—but I knew there was no way we could have the door barred in time to stop the guards from coming in.
Fang had reached the same conclusion; he let go and rasped, "Keep pulling." With that, he ran back to the heavy metal fire-door and leaned against it, braced to hold back an entire unit of men.
I huffed. We were stronger, but not that much stronger…Once they hit it, he wouldn't be able to keep them in check for more than a few seconds. But it was still more time, I told myself; I'd take full advantage of those moments.
Despite the lack of Voice, my head throbbed with a dull headache.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Iggy and Nudge lift a metal shelving unit between them and shuffle towards the door. Total was scouting around, oh-so-helpfully yapping off a list of potential blockades: "Here's another shelf! Oh, this might wor—nah, too light…"
Angel had taken post by the other door—the one connecting this room to the rest of the building—and was scanning with her mind for approaching Erasers from that direction.
In this time of observation, I'd moved about, oh, two feet. Six more to go.
Gazzy was grabbing everything he could lift and dumping it in an empty crate to make his own super-heavy device. Of course, he'd overlooked the part that he'd have to move it once it was full—
There was a dull bang, and the door was forced opened about two inches; Fang winced and threw his whole weight against it before the opening got wide enough to slide a wedge into.
I couldn't hear what he said over the wailing alarm, but from my rudimentary lip-reading I gathered it was down the lines of, "Hurry the hell up."
Iggy and Nudge stopped a couple feet from the door; they couldn't get any closer since Fang was leaning against it.
It seemed more sentries had joined the Open the Door battle—Fang's feet slid back a few inches, then he forced the door shut again, then it'd get a little more open…
"Fang!" yelled Iggy. "Get out of the way!"
He was leaning at a forty-five degree angle, shoulder pressed against the heavy metal door—moving seemed a bit impossible for him.
I'd made progress…four more feet to go.
I'll deal with this stupid box later. "On the count of three," I hollered over the blare, jogging the whole five steps to get by their side, "Fang gets out of the way and you two move. Ready?"
Bang. This time someone managed to get a gun barrel through the gap to act as a wedge; Fang slipped back, now scrabbling for grip on the floor.
"One…"
Bang. They'd started ramming into the door with more gusto, sensing victory.
"Two…"
Bang. Someone made the mistake of trying to squeeze through the temporary opening; he howled when it was thrust back, pinned halfway, but he managed to squirm backwards. He was going to be so bruised tomorrow, but at least he hadn't been completely crushed.
"Three!"
Fang lunged out of the way, while Iggy and Nudge sidestepped to drop the shelving unit in front of the door.
In that two second gap of no one protecting it, guards managed to throw it halfway open.
Fang and I both dove for the door (Ig and Nudge retreated) but a sentry still squirmed past and into the cargo-bay, albeit one without a gun—he must've been the sap who'd volunteered to use his as a doorstop.
"Attack!" roared Total. And before the guard could get his bearings, the Scottie had latched onto his ankle.
Well, that would keep the sucker occupied for awhile…I clenched my teeth and heaved…We were getting there…
Another managed to slide by, then the gap became too small; I ground out through gritted teeth, "Faster this time."
The shelving unit closed in; since neither of us was in a hurry to become blockade material, Fang and I moved.
Nudge and Iggy just let it drop—it rocked, rattled a metallic clanging that made Fang flinch, but then steadied. And the door remained closed, despite persistent shuddering.
The shelving would keep them in check for maybe a minute—that was enough of a head start for me.
"Alright, people, move!" I hollered; Angel was taking care of that guard by, um, encouraging him to do jumping jacks until he collapsed, while Gazzy had helped Total knock out the other. I swear, humans are so fragile.
The seven of us grouped together at the far door, then I opened it to warily poke my head through.
This was most definitely the place—it reeked of antiseptic. And the hall was bare tile. I would've called it white except for the still-blaring siren. (Everything was bathed crimson.)
"What d'you see?" asked Nudge.
"A School," I said grimly, then rubbed my still-aching head. I hadn't hit it that hard, had I?
I glanced back over my shoulder to see everyone's tense faces. Behind them, I spotted the barricaded door—the shelves rocked but didn't fall against their force yet.
"Follow me," I said, then began to run down the hall. "Keep your eyes open for someplace to hide until this blows over."
Well, I'd opened a can of worms, big time. Everyone in the entire complex knew we were here; there was no way I could hope to get anything done. Now, my highest priority was just finding a way out, preferably alive.
We were all sprinting flat-out, panic giving us a hefty energy dose. Besides, there was heating inside; I'd thawed enough for mobility.
I scampered past unmarked doors, picking random directions and hoping we wouldn't collide with a whole pack of Erasers. At one four-way intersection, I spotted a unit of them coming from my right; I hurriedly chose the hall across from me.
"There they are!" So much for that idea. Ah well. I instinctively picked up the pace, but glanced back to make sure Angel was keeping up. She was a good eight feet behind me, but Fang had slowed to take up the rear, so she was protected.
I slid a little on the next turn; someone had waxed recently, giving our mad dash for freedom a dramatic flare.
There was a man coming straight for us.
I skidded, scrambling to stop on the slick floor; Iggy collided into me, then Nudge into him, and Gazzy into her…it was a whole Flock pile-up.
Just one man, and he wasn't dressed in a lab coat…but a leather jacket. His head was down, staring at his feet and mumbling; I couldn't hear what he said.
But I did see the two Beretta F92's in his hands.
Shit. Whoever he was, he was dangerous. I glanced around wildly for a room to duck into…That lab was locked…aha! A utility closet. Perfect.
"In here," I said, throwing open the door; we all piled in, knocking into mops and buckets. Thank God for that alarm to wash out our racket, though its blare was muffled by the door, allowing us to hear each other without difficulty.
Fang was the last one in; he closed the door, and we were plunged into darkness. A thin crack of reddish light squeezed through the gap near the floor.
Gazzy let out a relieved sigh, while I tried not to let my claustrophobia get to me—I was crammed in a back corner. The pain in my calf burned, and I felt greasy blood staining my jeans, but since I could run without too much difficulty I figured it was only a graze.
A soft thunk and the shush of sifting sand… "Whoops," whispered Nudge, "I knocked over the antifreeze stuff. What're we gonna do now? Hide out here until they give—"
"Shhh," hissed Fang, lifting a hand for silence. He was standing closest to the door, and his head was cocked slightly…probably trying to listen. Nudge obediently shut up.
We fidgeted, waiting, until I couldn't help but ask, "What's happening?"
Fang's eyes were unfocused, all his concentration centered on his hearing, but he still croaked a curt, "He's almost at the door."
Sure enough, a few moments later, a shadow fell across the small band of light seeping from the bottom of the door. Tension mounted, we all held our breath.
The shadow paused; the man had stopped right on the other side. I could hear a faint, deep throb beneath the alarm—he was talking to himself?
Fang was obviously able to discern every word…and not liking what he heard. His posture went rigid, his jaw clenched taught. He was tensed to the point I worried that there was more to his panic than possibly getting caught.
Unconsciously, my hands curled into fists.
Willing that stranger to pass by, to decide he'd imagined seeing us tumble into a closet really wasn't the most practical thing to do, but I couldn't think of anything better.
We were torn between watching Fang's expression (a futile task) and staring at the shadow to figure out what was going on; I dared not whisper, even if the alarm was supposedly enough to shield us.
Fang's eyes narrowed into a glare and he latched onto the doorknob, as if bracing to hold it shut.
But the shadow swayed, then slid past, past our door.
None of us loosened our coiled muscles—he could come back.
"He's gone."
There was a collective sigh as we resumed respiration, but I noticed Fang hadn't slackened his white-knuckled grip on the knob—even though he was the one who'd given the all-clear.
Carefully, I picked my way over buckets and legs towards the front, and managed to reach his side with only kicking the dog. ("Oi, watch it.")
His gaze was fastened to the wall and blank…I guessed he was still tailing that guy.
I waved a hand in front of his face; he leaned away, startled, then blinked to focus on me.
"Who was that?" I whispered, making the guess he'd returned his hearing to the normal location.
He didn't answer at first, but glanced down at his hand as if just noticing the fact he was crushing the doorknob. While prying his fingers off, he rasped, "Mercy."
Huh? Why was he asking for mercy? I wasn't going to hurt him…at least, not at the moment. "What?"
"His name," he said, wiggling his now free fingers; they'd probably seized up.
"Weird name for a guy," I said skeptically.
Fang shrugged. "Not if he's insane."
The others were listening to us with rapt attention; Angel nodded and whispered, "I only heard a little bit of his mind. He sounded like a crazy person."
Great. I wasn't really surprised; Itex had some unspoken rule that stated they only hired loonies. But still, he hadn't looked like an employee…"What's he do?"
"Don't know," said Angel. "He kept talking about people 'calling for Mercy', and how it was his job to bring peace to the...I don't remember what."
"Suffering," whispered Fang.
"'Peace to the suffering'?" I said, brows raised incredulously.
They both nodded.
"He's unhinged, alright," said Iggy.
"Totally bonkers," added Gazzy.
I eyed Fang. Why was I getting the feeling he hadn't told me everything?
Because the way he'd behaved was as close to flipping out as he ever got. Something had seriously unnerved him; he was still jumpy, shifting weight from foot to foot and twisting his neck to scan our confined space.
"What did he say?" I asked, feigning nonchalance.
Fang didn't answer, just stared at the floor for a moment. "Found an empty room," he offered, evading the subject.
Gazzy glanced up from his position on the floor. "How?"
Resigned to the fact I wouldn't be getting any information out of him now, I answered Gazzy's question. (Fang's incomplete sentences would only cause more confusion.) "He listened for people's breathing."
Iggy nodded; he probably understood how the power worked better than me, since he relied so much on hearing himself.
"Where is it?" I asked, making a mental note to ask about that Mercy creep later.
"Couple halls over. An office."
Total couldn't resist: "How can you tell that?"
Fang let out a soft sigh and backed up, making room for the door to open. "Someone's leaving a voicemail."
"Sounds promising," I said, preparing to fling open the door and bolt. "You guys ready?"
Unanimous "Yeah"s, but before I could start the countdown, Fang suddenly said, "It's ter Borcht's."
I gave him a quizzical look, startled by that random comment. "What about Pink Soup?"
Gazzy snickered at the nickname.
"It's his office."
Dragonology's Dictionary: Um... anyone got a quote that alludes to foreshadowing, blowing holes in the wall, and missing Voices? Ah well.