by Shiloh White
“Chug, look out!” I yelled. My body (finally) decided to move for me, rushing out to help.
“Still not a good idea.” Justin said. He grabbed my arm and began to pull me back.
“Let go!” I yelled. “I have to help them."
“Your friend, while brave, was stupid. I'm not going to let you make that same decision—"
Before he could even finish his sentence, Woodstock rushed past the two of us. Justin sighed.
“You're just all stupid, aren't you?” he said. But he clamped down on my arm tight, keeping me from going to help.
Woodstock ran out and wrenched Chug out from under the rubble first. He picked him up and raised him above his head.
“He's not gonna—” Justin started.
“He is,” I said, “so get ready.” Woodstock pulled his arm back and threw Chug. The teenage boy hurtled through the air and Justin let go of me so he could snatch him out of the air.
I took my chance and shot away from Justin.
“Lucy!” he yelled, but I didn't stop.
I ran over to the rubble Woodstock was digging through to find Dart. When I was almost there, a tremor shook the entire room and I tripped and fell the rest of the way down to them, gaining a fresh cut on my knee. I sucked up the pain and rose to my feet, helping Dart pull the debris away.
“You've got to go back.” Woodstock said. “There's no time left. I'm not leaving Dart, but you've got to make it back too."
“We're not leaving anyone behind,” I said, looking him right in the eyes, “now dig.” Before long, I found a hand and Woodstock helped me move the rest of the debris and pull Dart free. Woodstock loaded him onto his shoulders and I grabbed his arm, ready to Zone-Hop. Just as I felt that stretching feeling, another tremor rumbled the ground behind us. I turned and saw that from the stage above, the ground began to split. Woodstock turned and joined me in watching the Headmistress get swallowed up by the pure darkness festering below.
The crack split further apart, coming towards us very quickly. I stayed still for just a second too long and amongst the darkness saw two points of light—two evil and ominous red pits of dim light. I felt them drawing me in Each step felt like trying to push concrete off the sidewalk with my feet.
“I can't Zone-Hop us,” Woodstock said. His voice sounded like it was coming from miles away.
“We have to keep moving.” I said. We inched forward, climbing up the pile of rubble in front of us back to the dome. We only made it halfway up before the crack reached us. The ground fell out from underneath us and I dug my fingers into the ground above to keep from falling.
A feeling of dread emanated from the chasm below, sapping my energy and making it hard to climb up. Then it began to sap my hope. I looked up and didn't even think climbing was worth it. If I reached for another handhold, the pile of rubble was just gonna crumble down on top of me anyway, so why bother?
I turned to Woodstock and muttered, “I think we're going to die.”
He shook his head. “Mija, don't think like that. It's like the Headmistress' power, just stronger. You have to fight it. Keep climbing.” He shifted his shoulder to keep his grip on Dart. Woodstock had one hand on him, and the other holding onto the floor above us.
“Keep climbing.” I repeated. “Okay.” Just hearing the words again started to wake me up. I couldn't die here. We needed to save our friends. To save Dart. I began pulling myself up with my hands and swung one foot up and onto solid ground.
Keep climbing.
We weren't leaving them behind. We had to get everyone to the dome. And we were the rest of everyone. But I was tired now. If I let go, it wouldn't be hard anymore. I could take a break.
Keep climbing!
The reminder pushed in my brain again, keeping me from stopping. I pushed off my arms and used my leg to swing the rest of my body up and over the chasm.
“Woodstock, I made it!” I said, looking around for my friend.
“That's good, mija.”
No. His voice came from below me. I looked over the edge of the chasm and there was Woodstock, still holding Dart. He hadn't budged an inch.
“Woodstock, what are you—"
“Gracias, Lucy,” he said, “I was afraid to come back here. Afraid to fight for my friends. I didn't even want to face my mother—"
A tremor shook the ground and Woodstock lost his grip. I dove and caught his hand, but the weight of both him and Dart started to pull me back down into the chasm. With my other hand, I jabbed my paint whip into the ground to keep us from sliding any further.
“Woodstock, this thing's comin' down any second—"
“So you know what's going to happen.” Woodstock said in a small voice. Tears started to drip down my face.
“Nothing's going to happen. You're climbing up, and we're all getting out of here, remember?”
But as much as I argued, I knew that wasn't going to happen. Woodstock's only way to climb up was stolen thanks to the tremor. He couldn't pull himself up without pulling me down, and his other hand was holding Dart. And I couldn't pull the two of them up. (Believe me—I was trying.)
“I knew you'd want to argue,” Woodstock said, “but there's no time. I can save Dart, but you have to let go."
“Just Zone-Hop or something!” I cried. Woodstock shook his head, which looked harder than it should've been.
“Disorder, he's...he's draining me. I can't Zone-Hop. It's getting harder just to talk. Which is why you need to hurry up and let go."
My hand clamped around his, hard enough for sweat to form. I couldn't let go.
“We came this far...” my voice broke in my throat
“Make Chug promise to do a good job with the Abandoned.” Woodstock said.
“I...I will."
“Good. Now attach your whip to Dart, and hold on.”
I pulled my whip from the ground and did as I was told, blinking tears from my eyes. Woodstock smiled, then released his hand from my grip. Just as he began to fall, he grunted and threw Dart with all his might. It sent him, my whip, and me flying towards the dome and away from him. The last thing I saw was Woodstock's body change until it was all Depression Agent smoke until it was completely snuffed out by one of the giant dark red eyes.
54. I Get Good News, and Give Bad News
Justin was there waiting to break our fall.
After he got back up on his feet, he lugged Dart inside. I just lay on the ground and looked at the crack spreading across the room, headed right for us. The chasm grew wider behind it, and the entire room began to fall in from either side like a giant waterfall. Down below, the two dark red eyes grew bigger.
I wanted to reach in and pull Woodstock out. I also wanted to just lie there and wait for it to swallow me too.
Justin must have realized I wasn't with him, because before the crack reached us, I was hoisted over his shoulder, headed to the dome. I hoped I was fighting him. I hoped I was screaming to go back for Woodstock. But all I could remember were those red eyes.
Inside, he collapsed, and I fell to the ground next to him.
“That's everyone!” he shouted.
“Alright,” Gordon said from somewhere above me, “hold onto something!"
I wanted to shout we didn't have everyone. That Woodstock wasn't here. But the entire dome rumbled and then this pressure pushed down on top of me until I could hardly breathe.
I felt like my bones were being pressed into the ground incredibly slowly, with one giant hammer. Pressure filled my ears and muted all the sound around me, which had only been people about to scream.
Just as quickly as it began, it all ended. The pressure shot off of me, and I could breathe again. Sound rushed back into my earlobes.
“We're here.” Gordon said. Everyone's screams rose and fell when they realized the unpleasantness passed.
I wished I could say the worst of what I felt was gone, too.
I couldn't tell you whether it was from thinking of Woodstock again or the crazy feeling that jus
t happened, but the second I got up to find him or Justin and scream at them, I doubled over and heaved up everything I'd ate in the last twenty-four hours.
Which wasn't much, so it was really just pain and a convulsing muscle spasm. I fell to the ground again—thankfully not in the vomit—and closed my eyes. Then I just lay there dumb-founded at what Woodstock did. And what I was supposed to do now. Chug would be devastated.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps grew closer. I opened my eyes and started to squint to see who it was in the darkness, but I realized I didn't have to. The darkness had illuminated enough to see Gordon sitting crisscross from me.
“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said. I lay still, gazing past him. “Just know,” he continued, “it could have been a lot worse if we didn't get here. You all could have been swallowed up by Disorder.” He spoke soft and slow, pausing after each word. I heard genuine sorrow from him, as if he actually felt each piece of pain I was feeling.
“Why did you guys show up when you did?” I asked, forcing myself to sit up. What I really meant was, why didn't you get there earlier so my friend wouldn't be dead now?
“We left as soon as Mr. Reggie sent us,” Gordon said, “after he got the memo from your Officer friend.” He gestured somewhere in the darkness of the dome.
Halsey? Is that where she escaped to once the Depression Force was onto her helping us? Was she here now? I suppose it didn't matter much now, considering our current problem.
“I'd say thanks for saving our lives, but it's not going to make a difference now.” I said.
“Why's that?” Gordon asked.
“Disorder,” I told him, “we couldn't stop it. He swallowed up...” I choked when I tried to say his name. “Our friend,” I decided. “And all those other Agents. Now he's coming for all of us."
Then Justin walked over from the edge of the dome, which was still dark but now visible in the brighter light.
“Yeah, I hate to blow that idea out of the water,” he said, “but Disorder needs an active Depression Zone to rise."
“What?” I asked. “But it was active. Or, it was about to be, right?"
“The Academy needs a Zone-Holder to play the role of Headmaster or Mistress,” Gordon explained, “and a large amount of Agents as the students. That's the platform that Anchor Zone was tethered to.”
“By the time the big guy began to really strut his stuff,” Justin said, “we already moved most of her ‘students’ to safety."
My heart skipped a beat. “So you mean—”
“Disorder's little climbing wall crumbled.” Justin continued. “All he succeeded in was pulling the Academy to the depths of his own prison."
My stomach twisted into a knot. That's where Woodstock was now. Swallowed by Disorder, down in the depths of his prison.
Gordon reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder. It almost made me uncomfortable. Probably should have, since I didn't know Gordon all that well. But his touch was comforting. It felt the same as his words—like he genuinely cared.
“Woodstock made the choice to save Dart, you know. Whatever the reason, he wanted to, or he wouldn't have done it."
“Woodstock wanted to die?” I asked. Not the greatest counseling session I'd ever had. Gordon shook his head and a small smile crept onto his face.
“No,” he said, “I mean he gave his life for yours. You should honor that, Lucy. Make it count."
I pulled my lips together and bit the lower one. I wished I could pull the rest of my body that close—try to hold it together, or protect it from how bitter I felt, at least. I just lost my friend, and now here this guy was telling me to be grateful for it. The worst part being, I was grateful. If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be able to talk to my mom like I promised. But from where I was sitting, it was still a possibility that might not happen.
“It's a little hard to honor and grieve someone at the same time,” I said.
“You know, your friend said the same thing after I told him what happened."
I leaned forward. Your friend. Those words filled me with energy.
“You mean Dart?” I asked. “He's awake? Where is he?”
Gordon chuckled. “Awake? No,” he said, “not anymore. He's resting now. But...” his eyebrows suddenly knit and his expression drooped. “There is little worse you can do to a person than tell them about loss, so yes, I told him for you."
I wanted to tell him thank you, but the words got stuck in my throat. It didn't feel like saying enough. Gordon saved my life twice, and was now being very kind. Was he like that normally? Maybe Mr. Reggie had given him specific instructions to console us on the way back so we would be able to get back to work faster. After all, if Disorder was still imprisoned, then Damian would pop out of his evil hole again sooner or later.
Gordon rose to his feet and pointed over near the lamppost. I saw two bodies horizontally spread out on the ground, and another with long hair kneeling over them.
“I have to check on the rest of our company, so why don't you go wait with your friends?” Then before I could cough up my words of gratitude to him, he left me standing in the dark.
“Make your hellos and goodbyes quick.” Justin said. I jumped when he spoke. I'd pretty much forgotten that he was still standing there.
“Why?” I managed to say, still short of breath.
“Gordon just needs another minute to rest,” he said. “Then he's taking you lot back to the Depression Force."
✽✽✽
As I walked towards my friends, a whole mess of thoughts and emotions swirled in my head. Why was Gordon taking us back to the Depression Force? I guess that's where Scott, Halsey, and Dart needed to go, but I wasn't eager about joining them. I figured the Lieutenant wouldn't be eager to see me either. Then there was Chug and the Abandoned to worry about. What would she do about them?
A warm wet tear slid down my cheek, shaking me from my thoughts. I forced myself to stop thinking about it all, just for a moment, so I didn't go hysterical. I was alive, and about to reconnect with my friends. Except, the closer I walked to Halsey, the worse my stomach wrenched with guilt and the less eager I became to walk the rest of the way over.
She looked incredibly preoccupied with Scott, whose shirt was tore open at the spot of his wound. He was covered with bandages, but a small stream of blood was still trickling down his chest. In the dim light it looked black instead of red, which unleashed a whole different kind of sickness in my stomach. (Let’s just say, it didn't mix well with guilt.)
There had been so much fighting, I realized I never even really had time to worry about Scott being okay. The boys told me they got him, so I tossed that worry out of my mind. I realized I didn't give him another thought until I was watching him bleed out now.
Just then, someone nudged my arm. “Hey.”
I turned and in the dim light, saw the familiar black cloth of the Abandoned around a young boy's head. A pair of binoculars hung from his neck.
“What's going on, Mikey?” I asked.
“It's Chug.” He pointed a little ways away from us, on the opposite side of the lamppost from my friends. On the outskirts of a small group of the gang sat the young boy in with a silver gun in his hand.. My heart sank, remembering what Gordon said about sharing news of a lost friend.
Still, there was no way Halsey would have anything good to say about me breaking my promise to her. I said I'd bring Scott back. Now he might not make it, and there was nothing I could do about it. But I could do something about Chug, so I made the executive decision to leave Halsey to her efforts.
“I'll go talk to him.” I said. Mikey nodded, and walked back to the group of Abandoned.
I walked over to Chug and sat down. He didn't seem to notice.
“Hey.” I said.
“What's up?” Chug answered. He didn't move, keeping his gaze on his gun.
“I'm sorry about...” The rest of the words caught in my throat. I didn't want to say them, but it didn't stop
the truth. “You know. About...Woodstock."
Chug flinched. I heard the metal sound of his gun crying out as he clutched it harder in his hands. Still, he wouldn't speak. So I did.
“Gordon said...he said Woodstock died for us—"
“Stop talking about him like that!” Chug yelled.
Now it was my turn to flinch.
“Like what?” I asked. “Like he's gone? You and I both know—"
“I don't want to hear that.” Chug spoke to me with the same angry growl he threw at the Headmistress. “We don't know that he's gone. We just fought a freaking mind-control crazy demon lady. It could have been her messing with our heads the whole time. Might be another one of her seeds of doubt or whatever, like what she did to you."
The raw emotion in his voice came through stingingly clear. I almost wanted to believe that he was right. Maybe it was all a trick by the Headmistress. Maybe Woodstock was just fine and once we woke up, all this would end up just being a bad dream.
But that was wrong. I knew it, and deep down, I knew Chug knew it too.
“Listen to yourself,” I said. “'Could've been'. 'Might have'.”
Chug slowly turned to look up at me. I closed my eyes, dissolving his false hope. It hurt me to say it, but I wasn't a real friend unless I did.
“Disorder swallowed him whole. I watched it happen. I tried to save him. I f—"
I failed.
Those words hung on my tongue like a weight that threatened to pull me to my grave by my mouth. Gordon tried to convince me otherwise, but a part of me still didn't believe him.
“He's gone.” I said finally. Chug looked down, and shook his head.
“Then...” he lifted his gun slowly until the chamber pointed at his head.
“You won't shoot yourself. You don't even have any bullets."
Chug swung the barrel of the gun open and revealed a single bronze bullet in the top middle slot. “Sure about that?”
