Touching Smoke (6 page)

The eerie figures hadn’t yet given chase. They resumed their leisurely pace after us as if we weren’t in the middle of an earthquake.

“Who are those guys?” I shouted, using the banister to pull myself along.

“Just run!” my companion snapped back.

I would have asked why, why were we running? But he didn’t have to answer. I saw it for myself.

At first glance, it looked like they were holding fire launchers; the flames in their long, spidery hands had to have originated from somewhere, right? But I didn’t see a gun, or a machine, just… hands, holding fire.

“What—?”

“Get down!” My companion tackled me to the side before I could register what was happening.

The first fireball whizzed over our heads and slammed into the wall ahead of us. It exploded across the stone, leaving a very real, very large singe mark in its place. I hit the stairs with a bone-rattling thud, and felt nothing except the numbing sensation of hysteria bubbling up the back of my throat. Panic seemed to be the only emotion my frozen brain wanted to register.

On top of me, my companion twisted his body, concealing me completely from the rain of fire falling around us. The stench of burning plastic filled the air and the fire alarms seemed to scream even louder. The sprinklers ruptured overhead, soaking through our clothes like ice needles, but did not douse the fire. If anything, it seemed to be getting bigger the wetter it got.

“We have to keep moving!” my companion shouted over the noise, as if I needed to be told.

Again, his fingers closed over my wrist and I was yanked me up like a ragdoll. I think I was running. I couldn’t feel it, but the halls rushed past as we bolted haphazardly up one and down another while the floor shook beneath our feet and the walls caved in around us.

“We’re going to get killed if you don’t knock that off!” my companion growled over his shoulder when I tripped for the hundredth time.

With his inhuman speeds, I couldn’t keep up even if I wanted to. My sneakers were slipping chaotically across the wet marble and my legs… what legs? They may as well have not been there at all for all the sensation I had in them.

 “I can’t help it!” I snapped, surprised that I could even speak. “I don’t usually get attacked by fireballs on a daily basis!”

Teeth flashing in a snarl, he shot a glance over my head. Long, dark fringes whipped across his face, nearly shielding his eyes as he scanned the hall behind us for the two still just feet away. They were close now, too close; their fireballs were only missing us by mere inches.

He suddenly stopped running and turned to me. Without batting an eyelash, he hauled me onto his back like a baby koala. He barely shouted for me to hang on before he was moving again. My ears popped. My eyes stung with the lash of wind and smoke. I squealed — an embarrassing sound. My arms tightened around his throat and I buried my face into the crook of my arm to keep from being nailed in the head with a fireball. It was like being on the back of a horse without the saddle. My stomach dipped, churning with the unnatural sensation.

When we finally broke free of the building, he didn’t stop. He rounded the building and took off into the fields at the back. Our pursuers followed without breaking stride, away from where the rest of the school stood huddled, shivering in the night. I knew this because I somehow mustered the courage to glance back and caught them tailing us, twin shadows, moving with the same speeds as us without even running; they were…
gliding!

“I’m going to put you down,” my companion said over the whistling in my ears.

“What?” I cried, horrified. “They’re still after us!”

“I know, but they won’t stop unless I make them,” he replied, not a hint of breathlessness in sight — I wasn’t exactly a basket of feathers despite my small stature…
and
I still had my duffle! “When I put you down, I want you to get as low to the ground as you can and find a safe place until I come get you.”

That was so easy for him to say; I had a hard time remembering my own name. But I was willing to try at the mention of
safe place
.

He didn’t even give me a warning before slamming to a halt with jarring force. I was set down with reasonable gentleness. “Down!” he growled when I swayed on my feet a moment too long and narrowly missed being hit.

The spongy ground took my weight like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of me. I army-crawled, digging my elbows and sneakers into the dirt and dragging my body towards the black silhouette I recognized as the track and field bleachers. Orbs of fire exploded around me like missiles. I suddenly had a clear understanding of how a soldier felt under attack, only I wasn’t trained for this! My bag kept snagging on things, adding thirty pounds to my already clumsy escape attempt.

I squeezed myself beneath the bleachers, ignoring the rip of flesh and fabric as I dragged my body between gravel and platform. Safely in place, I twisted around, peering through the narrow gashes at the all-out war raging in the middle of the football field. It was like watching some crazy paranormal TV show in person with my mystery guy, being the good guy, sent out to kill the fire-throwing demons terrorizing the town. I couldn’t even fathom where the guns appeared from, because suddenly they were in his hands, banging in rapid succession like canons while he nimbly dodged the downpour of fireballs. The grass around him sizzled and burned, forming a thick, gray cloud in the already dark skies. A plume of wind blew the stench downward, in my direction, engulfing me with the blinding stench of burnt grass and sulfur. I choked on the fumes, gagging even as I clamped both hands over my mouth and nose. The shield did nothing to protect my eyes, leaving them open for the cloud of ash that blew in with the breeze. I coughed, stuffing my fists into the backs of my eyelids, grinding out tears and grit. It was because of my temporary distraction that I wasn’t quick enough to duck when a blazing orb hit the bar inches from my face, exploding in a shower of sparks. I screamed, sucking cinders into the back of my esophagus. I scampered backwards, choking and coughing. Heat from the assault clawed at my face and arms, forcing me deeper beneath the seats. My lungs burned as I wheezed through smothering smoke. My heart cracked between my ears, an erratic tempo of desperation. A speck of glowing ember, a butterfly of fire, landed delicately on my arm. For a fraction of a second, it was so beautiful against the pallor of my skin that I wasn’t quick enough when bit through the skin, filling the air with the foul odor of burnt flesh and singed hair that made my stomach churn. I yelped, slapping at my arm. 

“This can’t be happening!” I moaned out loud to myself, practically in tears as I rubbed the forming blister.

But the sting on my arm was a sick reminder that it was happening. I really was crammed beneath the bleachers. I really was watching the three unusual characters fighting it out a few feet away. I really was seeing balls of fire appear out of thin air. This was not a dream.

Maybe I was dead. Maybe I died in that earthquake, the earthquake that had mysteriously stopped now that we were away from the school. This new bit of information only further convinced me I was either dead or losing my mind. Earthquakes didn’t just stop. People didn’t throw fireballs, and I really wasn’t about to get barbequed. Yet, when the second ball of flames crashed mere inches from where I was hiding, it was impossible not to see everything for what it really was: all too real.

“Fallon! No!” I heard my mystery companion roar as I scrambled out of my hiding place and bolted.

I heard the panic in his voice, the anger and fear, but my body had already made up its mind; I wasn’t sticking around to watch the end of
that
fight. The whole thing was crazy and I wasn’t going to be put in the middle of whatever gang war they were having. I’d seen enough movies to know when things were about to go down badly.

It didn’t take long to circle around the collapsed and burning building to where the rest of the school stood, watching in horror as everything went up in flames. I was the only one who got their stuff out. I couldn’t imagine the things everyone lost that night. It irritated me that I felt guilty, as if the whole thing was somehow my fault. But it wasn’t. How could it be?

No one took any notice when I slipped around the huddled crowd and passed through the open gates. I jogged quickly the rest of the way down the hill towards town, never stopping or glancing back to see what happened next. Fire engines rushed past me, sirens blaring. I didn’t know why, but I ducked behind a clump of bushes and waited for them to pass before running the rest of the way down.

Rettop County looked even more rundown and deserted in the dead of night. It seemed to echo like a ghost town. Most of the people probably didn’t even know about the fire, but they would soon enough.

The hole in the wall pub, Mom had hooked a waitressing gig at, was just off the main road that cut through the entire town and up towards the school. I remembered the way from when mom had dropped me off the first day. I would have gotten there faster if my duffle didn’t suddenly weigh more than I did.

“Mom!” I banged with both fists against the door of room eight, hopping from foot-to-foot as I waited for her to open it.

I tossed a glance over my shoulder, half-expecting those fire-throwing demons to be right on my heels. But the night remained silent… still. It seemed to hum around me like some haunted melody I couldn’t quite place, but I knew the lyrics like I knew every inch of my own face. It was a song that echoed through my very soul. I would have lost myself in it happily had the door not opened, revealing my mother’s baffled and sleep-tussled expression.

“Fallon?” She grabbed my elbow and dragged me inside. I didn’t miss the frantic glances she threw over the empty parking lot before shutting the door. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call? I would have—”

“We were attacked!” I tossed my duffle on the rumpled bed, my hands shaking. “I don’t know what… the earthquake… we have to call someone!”

“Earthquake?” She pushed me down next to my duffle and pressed a cool hand against my brow. “What earthquake? Who attacked you?”

Why wasn’t she listening?

“Didn’t you hear me?” I grabbed her wrist, stopping her from pushing tendrils of hair off my sweaty brow. “We have to do something!”

“Calm down and tell me what happened exactly.”

“I don’t know what happened!” I cried, tearing both hands through my hair. “We just can’t stay here! Those things are still out there and they know I saw them. They’ll come after us…” Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I led them straight there… they could be right behind me. “We have to go! We have to go now!”

She seemed to hesitate a second, staring into my face with a great deal of uncertainty, and maybe a little doubt. But she nodded, taking a step back.

“Okay, let me just… let me get my things.”

She hurried into the bathroom. I heard her rummaging a moment later, collecting her things. It seemed like hours before she emerged again, toiletries in hand.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, tossing the items on the bed and reaching for the suitcase she’d tucked between the bed and nightstand.

Where to start? The dream I no longer remembered? The earthquake that she clearly hadn’t felt? The mysterious guy with his incredible blue eyes? The twin figures with their fire-throwing abilities? Now that I was thinking about it, even I had to question my sanity. It all sounded so fictional. But I told her. I paced the room and recited everything that took place, right down to Lidia taking off. I kept nothing from her. By the end of it, she stood over her packed suitcase, regarding me with a distinct expression of someone who was given an hour to live. For a full heartbeat, I watched and waited for her to tell me I was crazy; I really wanted…
needed
to hear it. Instead, after a second, she seemed to suck in all the air in the room, grabbed her suitcase and told me to hurry up as she headed for the door.

“Wait!” I threw my duffle strap over my shoulder and hurried after her. “That’s it? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

The screech of the Rust-Bucket trunk opening was the only answer I got as she wrestled her bag into the back and reached for mine.

“Mom, what—?”

“Get in the car, Fallon,” she ordered, stuffing my duffle in after her suitcase.

Maybe it was the seriousness in her tone or the familiar dark figure approaching us from across the shadow-strewn parking lot, but I didn’t stop to ask her why. I didn’t stop to think. I lunged for the door handle and yanked. The squeal of door hinges pierced the silence like a gunshot. The sound ricocheted between my ribcage, sending my heart into a frenzy of terror. I could taste the bile of fear in the back of my throat

“Mom…”

Her head came up fast, her small hands ceasing their war with the bags. I don’t know what I expected her to do… Run? Scream? What I did
not
expect her to do was sigh and say calmly, “Hello, Isaiah.”

“You know him?” My voice came out embarrassingly shrill and high-pitched, but that was the least of my problems.

In the dingy glow of the fluorescent light, I had my first real look at my savior, the chance to see all the things I missed while fire was raining down on us.