Battlecry

by Emerald Dodge

  “Captain. Please.”

  “Then I need you to find a shelter during the storm and stay alive just long enough to help out during rescues. Hurricane Camden decimated the city a few years ago, which is one of the reasons why taxpayers demanded a team in the first place.”

  “Understood.” I gestured at Reid to fetch me pen and paper. When he handed them to me, I hastily began to scribble down notes on how the team would help out during storm preparations. “What about the schools?” I asked distractedly, still trying to come up with ideas. “I’m sure the superintendent will—”

  “It’s a half day. I just got off the phone with my contact on the school board. Since there’s no evacuation order, the mayor doesn’t see any reason to cancel. What a moron. Um, forget you heard me say that, please.”

  I had a feeling that in another life, she and I might have been friends. “We’ll be here no matter what. Moron mayor or not.”

  I thought I heard her laugh before she hung up.

  Marco and Benjamin rushed back in, Marco hopping on one foot while he held up his other to finish tying his boot.

  I passed the paper around. “This is it, guys. We’ve got the supposed death threat hanging over us, but that’s in three days. We’ve got a major hurricane coming in less than half that time. The storm takes priority.”

  “That would stop someone from trying to kill us,” Marco pointed out. “Even Patrick.”

  “Right. But right now, let’s focus on this problem. It’s midnight and raining, so there’s not much we can do besides alert the local homeless camps and get them on their way to shelters, high ground, out of the city, I don’t care.”

  Benjamin indicated the paper. “This says I’m with Marco. Why not you?”

  “Because she wants you to focus, duh,” Marco said, pushing Benjamin towards the door. “Let’s go, Merc. Since I’m the senior teammate, you have to do everything I say. This’ll be fun.”

  Reid and Ember kissed each other, then left, hand-in-hand.

  I looked at the paper in my hand. I had a stop to make.

  I dragged my feet as I walked down the dark sidewalk, my boots sloshing through pools of water. Would it ever stop raining?

  From the moment I’d left the house, for an entire hour, I’d been in the middle of a steady downpour. Great, livid flashes of lightning tore across the sky every minute or so, followed immediately by clashes of thunder so immense that they reverberated in my chest. Water ran in rivulets down my wrists and off my fingers. I probably looked like I’d climbed out of a well.

  I turned a corner, the sudden familiarity of my surroundings causing my heart to throb painfully. I broke into a run, but this time the tired, squat homes of my former neighbors flew by as I sprinted towards the former base camp, not away. It was a strange, mental mirror image; the last time I’d been here, I’d not only run away from home, but I’d fled in fear.

  I wasn’t scared now. I was mad as hell.

  I bounded up the steps and kicked down the front door. It flew open and splintered, sending dust everywhere. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was both relieved and disappointed.

  There were no footprints in the dust that led to Patrick. My sensitive ears detected no electrical humming from anywhere in the house—the silence was almost creepy, actually. Mildew, musty air, and the rotting food in the fridge mixed in my nose, but there was no trace of Patrick’s scent. I’d been so sure he would’ve holed up here, especially with the storm coming. He was in the city. I just knew it.

  The ceiling creaked. I whirled around and faced the stairwell.

  “Patrick! Come out and face me like a man, you damned…yellow…baby!” I made a mental note to work on my trash talk after the storm.

  Nothing happened.

  A mouse squeaked. I whipped out my knife, then lowered it, breathing hard.

  Maybe…maybe I was just paranoid because of the death threats. Maybe it really was just some nut job with a computer program and an ax to grind. We had received death threats before, and…and the last one had had the wrong number of people in it, since Benjamin wasn’t on the team…officially…

  I slowly sheathed my knife.

  I dragged my fingers along the walls of the narrow hallway as I went room to room, double-checking that my worst enemy wasn’t crouching behind a door. Each room was as empty as the last, though.

  Bizarre disappointment washed through me, chased by embarrassment. I was dimly surprised by how much I’d been spoiling for a fight.

  I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, my hand curling around my knife’s handle. The table and chairs were knocked over, macabre fossils of Patrick’s attack. I gently pulled the table back into position and slid the chairs under them. Perhaps I couldn’t turn back time and defend my friend, but I could do this, at least. It helped.

  There was nothing worth looting, so I didn’t bother. Our clothes had all been on the drab side, intended for blending in and being instantly forgotten. The only books were a camp-published dictionary and the multiple volumes of Leadership and Wisdom, all of which went into the toilet.

  Before I left, I put the door back in its frame. When my foot was on the bottom step, I turned and looked at it.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Then I left the house for a second time. Unlike last time, I had a soft landing ahead of me in the form of a roof, clothes, food, and friends.

  Though it was a long jog home in sopping clothes, I was energized when I arrived at convent. We were back in action. Benjamin was healed. I had a boyfriend. On top of it all, Patrick hadn’t returned to the old base camp—and that was enough for me to decide that he might not return at all. Not anytime soon, at least. We’d get through the storm and be ready for the fight when it came.

  Ember handed a towel to me when I walked in. “You’re in a good mood.” Reid was sleeping on the couch.

  “We’re the best freaking team, that’s why.” I was only slightly loopy from running across the city in a massive thunderstorm in the middle of the night.

  “Shall we chant and do a hand stack before bed, then?” She rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep.”

  Marco and Benjamin blew in through the door, appearing as though they’d drowned twice over. Benjamin accepted a towel, kissed my cheek, and stumbled up the stairwell. Marco muttered something incomprehensible and followed him upstairs and into his own room.

  Ember went to wake up Reid, but I put my hand on her shoulder. “I went to the old house,” I said quietly. “He hasn’t been there. He’s coming back, but it won’t be for a while, I think.” I squeezed her shoulder. “We have more time.”

  She bit her lip, then nodded. “We went all over Northside and I didn’t hear him. I…I don’t think he’s in the city, Jill. We made it no secret that we were back, and nobody bothered us.”

  “Good.” I checked my watch. “We’ll be up at zero nine tomorrow to start hurricane prep. I’m pretty tired, so if you get up before me, can you wake me up?”

  “No problem.”

  I gave her a brief hug, then headed upstairs.

  Tiredness crashed on me while I was donning my pajamas, and I sighed in relief as I slid into my sleeping bag. I’d definitely need a wake-up from Ember, who always helped Reid with breakfast.

  I closed my eyes, finally at peace.

  I awoke to sirens wailing near the convent.

  “Wha?” I mumbled, sitting up.

  What time was it? The morning light streamed through the window at a low angle, so I figured it was somewhere around zero eight.

  As my sleep-fog cleared it occurred to me that there were a lot of sirens. And did I hear people running past the convent? Yes, those were definitely footfalls. Shouts, too.

  Ember burst into my room, her eyes wild. “Jill, get up!”

  I bolted out of my bag. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  She shuddered. “It’s him. It’s Patrick.”

  I grabbed her shoulders. “Where are the guys?”

  Sh
e started to cry. “They’re still asleep. I woke up when I heard…I heard their thoughts.”

  I gave her a little shake. “Whose thoughts? Whose thoughts?”

  “The kids at the high school!” she wailed. “Patrick’s killing them!”

  34

  I saw the school buses first.

  Two dozen upside down public school buses circled the perimeter of James Oglethorpe High School like an obscene yellow belt, shoved up against the bricks. There was no room for firemen or anybody else to drop down and go inside the school.

  Where the line of buses ended, upended cars, many with bodies inside, were jammed into the earth in front of doors and low windows, sticking up like jagged teeth. Every visible exit was blocked.

  Inside the school, teenagers and teachers screamed for help.

  “They smell gasoline, but the school isn’t on fire…yet,” I whispered to my teammates, who were huddled with me beneath a tree across from the school. “It’s all over the school.” I couldn’t smell smoke, but the acrid stench of gasoline was overpowering. Patrick’s intention was clear. My heart sank, and a distinct off-kilter sensation flooded through me.

  He’d struck first.

  Benjamin scowled. “This couldn’t be more obviously a trap than if he spelled out ‘trap’ with burning letters on the lawn.”

  Hundreds of parents and emergency workers thronged around the school, hovering on the edge of the property. The screams from adults, mixed with the cries of the teenagers inside, caused a deafening clamor of hysterics. Emergency vehicles slowly pushed through the crowd, threatening to crush anyone in the way.

  I watched the students on the upper floors bang against the windows. “Ember, is Patrick inside the school?”

  One window on the north corner was empty—maybe an unused classroom. If we went inside the school, that would be our entrance.

  Ember’s fingers brushed mine. An image flashed across my mind of a classroom of terrified students staring at me. Behind them, there was a window through which I could see the school. A dead woman was on the floor, her neck broken and her glassy eyes staring at nothing.

  Patrick’s in a trailer behind the school. He’s holding a class hostage and he’s thinking about killing them.

  Patrick’s attack was clever; I couldn’t send in my team without risking their lives in a firetrap. But his attack begged the question: why hadn’t he set the school on fire yet? If he wanted to flex his muscles and really intimidate everyone, all he had to do was drop a match and watch the school burn. What was he waiting for?

  I motioned for everyone to huddle around me. “You know what I need you to do,” I said to Ember.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

  “Are you up to this?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m giving you one right now.”

  She took Reid’s hand. “Keep it short, okay?” She closed her eyes, then frowned. “Heads up, scumbag.” Her eyes fluttered, then opened.

  “Jillian,” she drawled. Or rather, Patrick drawled. “I’m honored.” Ember had initiated telepathic communication with him.

  Reid and Marco straightened. Benjamin narrowed his eyes.

  “Get to the point, Patrick. What do you want?”

  Ember laughed, though it didn’t sound like her usual beautiful, high laugh. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “So talk.”

  “Nope. I’m not saying anything more using the red-haired telephone. I’m in trailer five. Show up alone and I won’t rip out the wiring in the gym. Imagine what that would be like…sparks, gasoline, and a giant wooden room. That’s math I like.” Ember cocked her head to the side. “Actually, bring Ember, too. The other two can go play boy heroes.”

  Ember shuddered, then shook her head. “I’m out of his head. Yuck.” She cringed.

  So this was my choice: going off with Ember to deal with a homicidal maniac and maybe the rest of my team dying, or ignore the maniac resulting in hundreds of people probably dying, including my team.

  However, with Benjamin’s healing and speed, the rescue process would be quicker, with fewer casualties. I still had some tools in my box. I could do this.

  I pointed to the empty classroom. “Reid, the north window. Build a stairway and start getting students out through there. Don’t let anyone pass within eyeshot of the trailers.”

  Marco blinked, stunned. “You’re really going to talk to him. He’ll kill you.”

  “He might not, but even if he does, we’re not in a good position right now. Better my death than all the students. Get as many out as you can, in the shortest time possible.” Reid nodded, grim. I put a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “You ready for your first supervillain mission?”

  He gave me a small smile. “Yes.”

  “Guys!” Marco said, glancing back and forth between us. “Didn’t you hear me? Patrick will kill you, Jill!”

  “That’s a risk I have to take. Every mission has its risks.” Frustration was rising. I didn’t have time for this.

  “You don’t know what you’re walking into,” Marco insisted. “Patrick’s probably waiting in there to smack you around some more. He’s a better fighter than you are.”

  The urge to smack him rose up, but instead I took a deep breath and turned to Reid. “You’re in charge of your group. Get everyone out and then come to trailer five. Do not come in or indicate that you’re there.”

  Reid nodded, then beckoned the other two men to follow. Benjamin and Reid disappeared into the crowd, but Marco trailed behind, glowering at me.

  Ember and I dashed to the edge of the campus and made our way to trailer five. The other trailers’ doors hung open, revealing empty classrooms filled with abandoned backpacks. My heart raced while I raised a fist to the closed door and pounded three times.

  “Come in,” Patrick’s mocking sing-song voice called. Ember was green.

  I pushed open the door.

  Patrick sat with his feet on the teacher’s desk, its rightful occupant dead on the floor next to it. A dozen teenagers stared at us. Some of them were weeping.

  One rose partially from his seat. Sebastian Gonzales, Tatiana’s brother, watched Ember and I walk into the classroom with a mix of relief and anxiety. The poor kid had had to endure a second attack on his school in fewer than six months.

  “Sit down, Sebastian.” Patrick waved his hand, and Sebastian was pushed down into his chair. “Class is over when I say it is.”

  I shut the door behind Ember and me. “We’re here. Let the kids go.”

  Patrick shook his head. “They’re here to ensure that you don’t do anything… inadvisable.”

  “Like tearing your head off.”

  He tutted. “You may be wearing the big boy leader pants, but you’re the same old Jill.” Patrick took his feet off the desk. “I should’ve known that you wouldn’t actually leave this stupid city. Did you know I’ve been looking for you all over the east coast? I knew you weren’t in Leesburg. I spied on every team from here to Baltimore, tried to figure out which group of do-gooders was dumb enough to harbor you.” He shook his head. “My mistake. You were too in love with this rat hole to leave when I actually had the right to kill you—why would you leave after the library?” He leaned towards me, his eyebrows knit in faux concern. “As one leader to another, there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Find it.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “You’re threatening the lives of a thousand people just so you can taunt me?”

  “You’re threatening the lives,” he mimicked in falsetto. “I can’t believe I ever talked like that. Man, I hate heroes.”

  Ember stepped next to me. “What do you want? Why here? Why now?”

  Patrick leaned back, his hands folded behind his head. “You stopped by to see me last night, right? You wanted to fight? Well, here I am.” At my expression, he grinned in boyish amusement. “Jill, you kicked down the door, moved furniture, and threw my books into the toilet. I know it was you. But ac
tually, I’m not in the mood for a death match today. I’d rather make a deal.”

  The blood drained from my face; he’d killed people because of my decision to go back and challenge him. I cleared my throat. “Why would I ever make a deal with you?”

  He smirked. “Because if you don’t, everyone in that school, including Boulder Boy and Shorty, will die screaming while their skin melts off.”

  As much as I despised breathing the same air as him, he had me cornered. I sat on an empty desk. “Fine. Talk.”

  Patrick let out a long breath. “I suppose you think I hate you.”

  “You haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise.”

  “Fair enough. But you should know, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart, that I don’t. None of you are worth that.”

  I raised my eyebrows but said nothing.

  He continued, “Sure, I did hate you all—you especially. You never could just shut up and do what you’re told. But then I realized that none of it matters. Leadership doesn’t matter. Saint Catherine doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean, they don’t matter?”

  He slammed a hand on the desk. “None of it’s real. I realized that, and I stopped hating you. In fact, I pity you.”

  “What’s not real?”

  “Everything!” Patrick’s roar caused three girls in the back to burst into tears. Ember rushed over to comfort them, but I didn’t budge. “The principles, the traits, heroism, villainy, morality, all that bull! None of it is real.” He stared at something unseen. “It’s all a lie,” he murmured to himself.

  The conversation was edging into dangerous territory; people who thought morality didn’t exist were capable of anything.

  “I’ve made the mistake of calling you crazy.” I studied him, waiting for any sudden moves. “But you’re not. You know right from wrong. You tried to teach us every night during the readings.”

  “Oh, please. The bedtime stories are the biggest joke of all. Don’t you get it? It’s all invented to keep us under their thumbs. The elders gave us the principles as something to aspire to, criminals as an enemy to unite against, and kept us stupid and starving so they could control us. They’ve been doing it for decades.”