Nadia walked up to Dan, who had his hands jammed in his pockets,
worry on his face. He noticed them, and gave a little half-wave.
"Oh, hey Nadia! Did you figure out who the Killer is?" Nadia shook
her head. "No, I-" Her eyes went to his hands, noticing a box
sticking out of his pocket, just enough to be visible. "Dan, what's
in your pocket?" His concern grew a little. "Nothing, " he said
vaeugly, pushing the box into his pocket and avoiding her glance.
Nadia frowned. "What are you hiding?" Dan grit his teeth, glaring
at her. "Nothing, Nadia. Please leave me alone."
Judging from a certain previous experience, Colt knew better that
to say anything in an attempt to help. That likely wouldn't end
well. Brushing soot from the left sleeve of his shirt, he stood
perhaps 10 feet behind Nadia and to the right, close enough to help
should anything go awry but far enough to not impede proceedings.
"Dan," Nadia said firmly, "You're only making yourself more
suspicous by hiding this. What's in your pocket?" Dan glared at her
again. "I said, LEAVE ME ALONE!" He shoved Nadia, sending her
toppiling to the ground. "What's going on here?!" Mrs. Luswire
said, hurrying up. Nadia gasped, "He pushed me, and he's hiding
something!" Mrs. Luswire gave Dan a stern look. "Dan, please show
us what you're hiding, now." Dan growled, but another look from
Mrs. Luswire and he pulled it out. A box of matches.
Though he had started towards Dan at first, anger blazing in his
eyes, when Colt saw Ms. Luswire appeared to be taking control, he
hurried instead to where Nadia had fallen and offered a hand to
help her up. He never took his eyes from the other boy, his gaze
shooting daggers of fury and distrust.
Nadia took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. "Toldya he has an
attitude," she muttered. "But I didn't know he would go this far."
Mrs. Luswire snatched the box from Dan's hand. Looking him straight
in the eye, she said, "Dan, are you the Killer?" There was a long,
silent pause, before Dan said evenly, "Yes. I'm the Killer."
Immieadiently, evreyone in the crowd, save for Nadia and Coolt,
snapped. The PE Coach had to fight to keep the other students from
surging forward, and Mrs. Luswire grabbed Dan by the arm, pulling
him into another building. The boy offered no resistance.
"Alrighttt, let's get further away?" he called to Nadia, having to
raise his voice in order to be heard above the rioting students.
Something still seemed off; while Colt could easily believe that
Dan was the Killer, what did that mean for the boy's unknown
accomplice?
"Yeah," Nadia said hesitatently, "something just doesn't add up."
She walked to the edge of the lawn, then turned around, her arms
crossed. "First off, if Dan really was the Killer, which I don't
doubt one bit, who was the mystery person that kept hanging around
him? Are they a student? a Teacher? Why would they wear that
symbol?" She ran a hand through her hair, thinking. "None of this
makes any sense. Why would this pyscho principal leave all these
loose ends? I mean, this whole thing is a game to him, isn't it?
Why would he end it like this?"
Once more, cold, skeletal shivers ran down his spine. In a hoarse,
and, yes, fearful tone, he simply said, "He wouldn't." There was no
way they would get away scot-free with so few deaths and little
"entertainment", aside from an entire building burning to the
ground. In fact, Colt honestly wouldn't be surprised if he and
Nadia were being watched right now, right this very minute. The
principal had to have set up some way to monitor the students even
if they fled into the woods. Hopelessness threatened to constrict
his throat. What now?
Nadia sighed. "I think we need to talk to Mrs. Luswire. Find out
what that symbol meant, or at least ask her if Konnor Luswire was
related to her. I mean, Luswire isn't a very common last name. If
we can get something from her, maybe it'll get us somewhere." She
paused, looking up at him with concern. "Colt? Hey, it's going to
be okay. We'll figure it out eventually. Don't give up hope just
yet."
He shook his head, bringing his hand to his temple with a rough
attempt at a smile. "Sorry; don't worry, I won't," he reassured
her. "Alright, maybe we spy on her and Dan? Learn some stuff, wait
outside for her, make sure she's alright?"
"With the way she's been acting, yeah, I think we should." She led
the way down the path that Dan and Mrs. Luswire had taken, to the
vacant building. She hesitated in front of the doors. "I don't
know, should we go in there after her? I mean, if she's inncoenct,
and all of this is a big conicidence that it's tied to her, then
she's all alone with-with Dan." She shuddered slightly just
thinking about how she had almost hit her head, and how roughly he
had simply pushed her down.
"Whether it is or it isn't, it's probably best to be there first
hand. Plus, we're armed with a flashlight and the knowledge of
curly fries. Dan can't touch us!" he tried to reassure her.
Steeling himself, he slowly opened, the door, doing his best not to
alert any occupants.
Nadia laughed. "Okay, okay, you're probablly right." She stepped in
after him, starting to walk down the hall, looking for any sign of
Dan, or Mrs. Luswire. After peeking into yet another empty
classroom, Nadia paused. "Colt?" she asked. Her face was concerned.
Nadia bent down and picked up something on the ground, holding it
up. It was a chain that Mrs. Luswire regularly wore, but only now
was the symbol on it visible. The same one as before. Nadia's hand
shook a little, and she stared at Colt with wide, shocked eyes. "I
think I know who the real-" Nadia's words were cut off by the
whistle of a knife, as it stabbed her in the side, causing the girl
to fall to the ground, her eyes frozen in shock. A slight chuckle
came from the shadows of the room, and Mrs. Luswire stepped out,
her eyes on Nadia as she slowly clapped. "Good job, I never thought
you would make it this far."
"NADIA!" Colt screamed, immediately stumbling towards her and
falling to his knees. All his pent up fears from the past couple of
days were coming to life, and worse, he was right there and still
powerless. His stomach was a roiling storm of horror, grief, and
anger, but his mind felt frigidly numb. This couldn't be happening.
He frantically placed a hand over the wound in her side, wanting to
do something, anything, to make it go away. Snarling up at the
treacherous woman, he found himself speaking in a voice he had
never known he could produce; a deep, vicious, ragged, nearly feral
noise. "Don't. Come. Near. Her."
Mrs. Luswire laughed. "Oh please. I wouldn't come near someone like
you, you unvirtous child. Or her, for that matter. Besides, I
honestly don't care. You're all going to die soon anways." She
leaned against the doorway, twirling a second knife between her
fingers. "So, do you want to know what you came here for? Not like
you'll be able to tell anyone."
Colt ignored her, his attention now focused on Nadia. No. No, he
would not let her die. Gently touching his other hand to the girl's
shoulder, he, biting back tears, said softly, "Hey, Nadia. Nadia,
can you hear me? I need you to stay awake, okay? Everything-
everything's going to be alright. You're going to be alright." His
words sounded fake to his own ears, but they were as much for his
comfort as they were for hers. Vaguely, he recalled reading
something about removing foreign bodies from stab wounds, that
being to not, if possible. There was a possibility that the knife
being removed would only result in her loosing more blood faster.
Nadia, by now, was drifting in and out of unconciousness. Weakly,
with one hand still clutching the knife buried in her side, she
touched his shoulder lightly. "I trust you.." she whispered, before
falling into uncouicouness. Mrs. Luswire watched. "I almost feel
sorry. She's going to have a slower death than the rest of you."
"You will shut up now. Congratulations, you've maimed and killed
children. Go party in heck," he growled. With ragged breathing,
Colt set to work. He shifted Nadia ever so slightly so that the
side with the wound was elevated just a bit, moving her hand so
that it was pressing down in an attempt to slow the blood flow.
Both hands now free, he gripped his t-shirt about four inches above
the hem with one and tore it with the other. It was an older shirt,
so breaking the threads only took about three tries. Ripping the
triangular fabric scrap free, he then pressed it over the stab
wound.