Main Page: The Legend of Aaron LaBarr
Chapter One (Unfinished)
Planet Earth, sometime in the early Twenty-third Century
The air was cool, dry, and, at least to Dr. Mary Delisle, thoroughly unpleasant.
Though stuck in her small office at Sternweld University, Mary was still on an expedition. A brave journey into her email service’s spam folder, which was often stuffed with anything except spam. In fact there were often very important things, like new discoveries from her colleagues in the field, helpful encyclopedia entries for her lesson plans, and staff meeting notices from the higher-ups. She saw plenty of all these things as she scrolled down through it. Why, she wondered, all this, and the Viagra ads still make it to my inbox?
Her office doubled as her home, her only one not counting her vacation spot in Aruba. It made things much more convenient, considering the world’s massive population.
But then she grinned as she saw that there was one true article of spam, and one which was of substantially more interest than the others combined. She opened it up and read in amusement.
Fw: totally awesome news
From: “Aaron LaBarr” <[email protected]>
To: “Bryan Gilmore” <[email protected]>; “Mary Delisle” <[email protected]>; “Paul Binyird” <[email protected]>; “Those Mercenary Guys” <[email protected]>
Howdy ya’ll,
Little heads up on what’s going down. I just got the second wave of my new book about our sweet adventure with Caldwok and all that. It’s going to be totally all over the place. Having a book signing party today at Borders in about seven minutes and can’t wait to be swamped by admiring fans. You should all come too. We can have a neat little shindig just like old times, lol.
ttyl
me
Mary looked at the date and realized it had been sent about thirty seconds ago. She grinned. Perhaps it had been some sort of premonition, that she could check her email at this moment in time. She could probably still make it to the front of the line, she realized. Surely no one would be eager enough to show up early and camp out in front.
In the meantime, she had to get to her first class of the new semester. Quickly she skimmed through the relevant data she had been looking for, switched off the computer and left, knowing she would throw it all out and just wing it. New semesters were like that.
She entered her classroom precisely on schedule, taking a few moments to savor the words on the door, which read “Interplanetary Archaeology 101,” and underneath that, “M. Delisle, Ph.D.” As she rushed to her desk she looked out at the students, who were all in their places, waiting expectantly for class to begin. Hers was an interesting course, and no one wanted to miss a minute of it.
“Okay,” she said.
She smiled at them, and her gaze rested on Amy Cantwell and Samantha Drake. They alone were talking quietly amongst themselves. A bit chatty but still, very good students. Both had never touched a drop of alcohol on school grounds or joined a sorority or been the cause of a need for the S.W.A.T. team. Feeling her gaze now, they stopped and looked up. Her smile broadened. She felt such love for these her pupils, such passion for imparting knowledge unto them.
“Okay,” she repeated, “let’s begin.” She grinned. Time to wing it.
***
As she left the room, she was instantly surprised and pleased to see another familiar face. At the age of fifteen, Maxwell Dimespawn wasn’t a regular student, but dropped by nearly every day during study halls at his high school, and whenever vacation days didn’t coincide between the two institutions. He was smiling maniacally now, as he leaned against a wall, talking to Amy and Sam.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he was saying. “Two months. Two months.”
Amy and Sam exchanged a glance of pure amusement. Amy stepped forward, beginning to giggle giddily. “How dreadfully romantic,” she gushed.
“I’ll take you both for a spin around the city,” he went on. “One at a time.”
“Oh,” they both twittered, and began to sway in an intoxicated manner.
“Oh,” said Sam, “but now, pretty please, won’t you flex your bulging muscles for us, one more time?”
“Ladies, please,” he insisted, “if I did that for every girl who wanted me to, then – then – well, I suppose they’d just get that much bigger!” And he flexed, and they swooned, and Amy tentatively rested her hand on his rather average-sized biceps, and shrieked in ecstasy.
His best performance yet, Mary thought. But, remembering Aaron’s little event, she began to leave again, putting some spring in her step.
“Hey, baby,” he said in her ear.
Mary glanced over and saw him there, matching her pace. In spite of herself, she grinned. This was one entertaining kid. “Nice to see you, Max,” she said.
“Nice to see you always, doll,” he replied. “I wish I was cross-eyed, so I could see you twice.”
“I see you’re still just as sexy as ever,” she said. “I’m proud of you not making them do the puppy pout before you flexed.”
Max laughed. “Eh, this heart of mine can only take so much excitement,” he admitted. “My doctor’s already recommending a pacemaker if I keep this lifestyle up.”
“And will you?”
“Keep it up? With fish like you in the sea, baby, how could I not? Which reminds me, you know I’m getting a driver’s license in two months?”
“So I gathered. But I think you mean to say you’re taking the test in two months.”
“Ow, baby, where’s your confidence in me?”
“Not here. Some chick on the sidewalk smiles at you, you go off the road. Simple as that.”
“I can keep my libido in check for a couple hours. Just you wait, baby, I’ll take you for a spin around the city. Maybe a little more than that.”
“Oh Max, you’re going to ruin my professional reputation.”
“Hey, baby, that’s not the worst of it. You’ll be lynched by my thousand other girlfriends.”
They had arrived at Mary’s office, and she put her hand on the door. “I have to go, Max, I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s a thing I need to do before my next class.”
Max shrugged. “Have it your way, babe,” he said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked expertly and flipped his forefingers at her. “Here’s lookin’ at you – kiddo.”
Mary laughed and opened the door. She paused for a moment to watch Max intercept Candice walking past. “Hey, baby,” he said to her, “did it hurt?”
“Not as much as you will in a minute,” she said, not looking at him.
Mary laughed again. She was used to their encounters. She knew, despite Max’s unwavering smile, that he was frustrated. And that despite Candice’s cold demeanor, she was flattered.
“
She turned to Paul Binyird, one of her colleagues, who was sitting on her small bed and fiddling around with a double helix model. He had his own office, but you wouldn’t know it, not from how much time he spent in hers. Not for any risqué purposes, understand, but because they had been friends for years and enjoyed one another’s company. He was bored now, however, but she knew what would cheer him up.
She switched the computer on and went to Aaron’s email. “You seen this?” she asked him.
Paul let his eyes run over the message, and he grinned as well, just as she’d expected. “The old chap’s got some nerve, I must say.”
“I think we should go,” said Mary. “We’re his friends, after all.”
Paul stared thoughtfully out the window. “Yes, I suppose we are,” he said at last. He shook his head. “Can’t imagine why. I just can’t believe how he ever forgave us. Incredible boy.”
Mary blushed a little in spite of herself. “Yes.”
Paul looked at her carefully, and nodded knowingly. “Of course. How could I forget.”
“There’s nothing between us,” she insisted, blushing more at his obvious insinuation. “It’s all fun and games. Like Max with every girl from here to Singapore.” She knew that to be the case, though she could not stop blushing nonetheless. She knew no one with half a brain would ever believe her. “He’s a regular Indiana Jones,” she finished lamely. “You know.”
Paul shook his head. “No,” he said. He looked thoughtful again. “Do you know what separated Indiana Jones from the old serials he was based on?”
They both knew about both Indiana Jones and the serials from their extensive studies of Earth history and culture. Barring this, they still may have known somehow, for Indiana Jones at least still enjoyed some popularity in certain circles. Mary had seen clips and thought it incredible that such a primitive series, in both plot and special effects, could have possibly endured over the years. But as she thought of Aaron, and her adventure with him, she realized that there were so many more levels to it than that, and was considering becoming a fan herself. Of course, even then, there were so many things separating it from her reality. Which could Paul possibly mean?
Mary thought hard. “Dan Aykroyd?” she guessed.
“Humanism,” Paul insisted. “He makes mistakes. He gets hurt. He has a family. He gets hurt. He cares about people. He gets hurt. Aaron LaBarr isn’t Indiana Jones, he’s a freaking superhuman. And that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
Not necessarily a good thing? Bizarre, yes, but… Mary wondered at this outburst. What could have prompted it? Jealousy? After all these years? Did Paul still have feelings for her? And that brought up another question, one which she was suddenly unprepared to answer. Did she still have feelings for him?
“Paul, I –”
Outside, an alarm suddenly began to ring. Saved by the bell, she thought, getting up. They’d go with everyone else for the fire drill, stay long enough for role call, and then slip away and go to Aaron’s book signing party. They’d pretend the last minute or so had never happened.
But then she heard screams, screams of genuine terror. And shooting, there was lots of that too.
“What the –?”
She hurried over to the window and looked down. She was just in time to see a handful of very motley characters, of assorted species, disappear through the front door. She had a sinking feeling that they weren’t visiting alumni.
She ran out into the hallway. Looking down its length, she saw a couple more go running past. They were wielding guns, and the tips were smoking.
“Paul,” Mary whispered hoarsely, “we’ve got to defend ourselves.”
“Ah, here’s an idea,” he said, “how about we make a rope from your bedsheets, go out the window, and beat it?”
She glowered at him. “We’ve got to fight,” she said. “We can’t just let them do this to our university.”
“Who cares about the university? And who’s ‘them’?” Paul shook his head as she reached under her pillow and pulled out a large, wicked-looking gun. “What have you been using that for?”
“Class discipline,” she shot back.
He followed her cautiously as she ran out the door, ready to blast someone. “It’s your funeral,” he said. But he worried, deep inside, that it really would be. Please reconsider, he thought. Please don’t leave me here.
Just then, a pair of students came racing down the hall, a couple of girls. Paul recognized them as sophomores from their Archaeology 101 class. As he watched, a lone man ran after them, and gunned them both down.
Instantly he was enraged. What kind of monsters were these? All caution and self-preservation thrown to the wind, he lunged at the man with his bare hands. He quickly realized that he had just doomed himself, but to his surprise, the man crumpled easily beneath him. Then he realized Mary had already taken care of it.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been alone. Within seconds his comrades came racing around the corner, an assortment of scum the likes of which he had never seen. Up close they were more hideous than he could imagine, enough to give one nightmares, and he could smell the whiskey on their collective breaths, strong enough to repel flies. At the sight of him, they came still faster.
“Get behind me!” yelled Mary. He ducked, rolled, and complied with her request as she dropped five of their attackers in rapid succession. Then they both ran for all they were worth, amidst a storm of laser fire, weaving back and forth, expecting to be hit any second. Mary risked a glance back and noticed, to her delight, that the entire group had stumbled over the corpses littering the floor.
They were obviously more than a little tipsy. But their state of mind had nothing to do with the attack in the first place. What could they possibly want? And what could they hope to gain by shooting up the building?
They rounded another corner and slipped the rest of the way. Rushing past them, they could barely make out a custodian crumpled lifeless on the floor, beside an overturned bucket of soapy water which was now diluted with blood. His killers had gone to search the adjoining rooms, but Mary and Paul didn’t know that, nor would they have cared. All that concerned them, at this point, was the flight of stairs coming towards them fast.
They each reached out and grabbed at a railing, their legs shooting out from under them, and then falling to the steps with a smack. They sat there, at the top, catching their breath.
“We’ve got to hide somewhere,” insisted Paul.
Mary wanted to argue again, but the commotion had not gone unnoticed, and she could hear more thugs beginning to climb the stairs. Additionally, doors were opening up and down the hall they had just flown through, and of course there was still the group that had originally chased them. Reluctantly, she decided to agree with Paul for the time being, that discretion was sometimes indeed the better part of valor, particularly when it was the only option that kept you alive in the process.
So they got up, ignoring the pain in their legs, and ducked into a niche in the wall, next to a display case of sports trophies, behind a magnificent statue of the school’s founder, Stanley Sternweld. And not a moment too soon – their position was quickly surrounded.
They shrank back as far as they could. It was dusty, dusty as if it hadn’t been cleaned since the statue’s erection. Thinking back to the dead custodian, they wondered, why couldn’t he have started with this end of the hall? One of them was bound to sneeze, and then it would all be over.
Paul tried to keep from inhaling, but he had to catch his breath. He was no longer a young man, after all, hadn’t been for years. And all this abrupt action was taxing his limits. He needed a proper warm-up, for crying out loud. He couldn’t stand it much longer.
Mary found some lozenges in her pocket and handed one to him. Then they settled back, trying to ignore the shadows falling over them.
She concentrated, instead, on what they were saying. It was an alien language, unfortunately, a dialect she wasn’t completely familiar with. On top of that, it was slurred by the cretins’ drunken tongues. She could tell only from the inflections and, when she peeked out, body language, that they were looking for something. Well, come on, she could have guessed that much. But what? What was it?
Suddenly a swath of fire cut the attackers down. Suddenly Max was kneeling down at the statue, peering back at Mary and Paul. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he wondered.
Mary frowned. “Hiding,” she said. “Get back here.”
“Woah, baby, you know I love enclosed spaces with you, but we gotta run. Come on, let’s go.”
“No!” she yelled. “We have to fight. We have to defend the university.”
“Again with this nonsense!” Paul whined. “Listen to the kid!”
“You’re talking sense for once, old man,” said Max.
Paul scowled. “I wouldn’t be talking at all, if I was you, pipsqueak!”
“Guys…” Mary couldn’t explain her devotion to the place. It was just a building, okay. But in addition to being a repository of knowledge for the students she dearly adored, it was her home. Sure, she could move to Aruba and live off of unemployment checks, but that wouldn’t be the same. And besides, she had to avenge some important deaths.
Still, Paul gave her a shove, and then they were both running behind Max, towards the stairs again. Mary counted the corpses Max had just decorated the floor with, and came in at roughly about thirty. Silently she bemoaned this premature loss of childhood innocence.
Max considered the stairs, then led them to the adjoining classroom. Corpses abounded here too, though mostly from the students and their professor. A few survivors huddled under their desks, and jumped out of their skins at the newcomers’ approach.
Max ran to the far window. As he struggled to open it, they heard more footsteps out in the hall from both directions.
“That window hasn’t worked in years,” a student advised them.
“No kidding,” muttered Max.
“Makes it beastly hot in the summer.”
Max swore loudly with every expletive he knew, which was quite a few. Then he grabbed the student’s desk and, barely grunting, heaved it through the window.
“Flex your bulging muscles for us, one more time,” Mary murmured jokingly. Instantly she felt a pang of guilt and despair, as she thought of Amy and Sam. Max’s face tightened, and he turned away. She realized he must have seen them as well.
Next: Chapter Two (Unfinished)
Though stuck in her small office at Sternweld University, Mary was still on an expedition. A brave journey into her email service’s spam folder, which was often stuffed with anything except spam. In fact there were often very important things, like new discoveries from her colleagues in the field, helpful encyclopedia entries for her lesson plans, and staff meeting notices from the higher-ups. She saw plenty of all these things as she scrolled down through it. Why, she wondered, all this, and the Viagra ads still make it to my inbox?
Her office doubled as her home, her only one not counting her vacation spot in Aruba. It made things much more convenient, considering the world’s massive population.
But then she grinned as she saw that there was one true article of spam, and one which was of substantially more interest than the others combined. She opened it up and read in amusement.
Fw: totally awesome news
From: “Aaron LaBarr” <[email protected]>
To: “Bryan Gilmore” <[email protected]>; “Mary Delisle” <[email protected]>; “Paul Binyird” <[email protected]>; “Those Mercenary Guys” <[email protected]>
Howdy ya’ll,
Little heads up on what’s going down. I just got the second wave of my new book about our sweet adventure with Caldwok and all that. It’s going to be totally all over the place. Having a book signing party today at Borders in about seven minutes and can’t wait to be swamped by admiring fans. You should all come too. We can have a neat little shindig just like old times, lol.
ttyl
me
Mary looked at the date and realized it had been sent about thirty seconds ago. She grinned. Perhaps it had been some sort of premonition, that she could check her email at this moment in time. She could probably still make it to the front of the line, she realized. Surely no one would be eager enough to show up early and camp out in front.
In the meantime, she had to get to her first class of the new semester. Quickly she skimmed through the relevant data she had been looking for, switched off the computer and left, knowing she would throw it all out and just wing it. New semesters were like that.
She entered her classroom precisely on schedule, taking a few moments to savor the words on the door, which read “Interplanetary Archaeology 101,” and underneath that, “M. Delisle, Ph.D.” As she rushed to her desk she looked out at the students, who were all in their places, waiting expectantly for class to begin. Hers was an interesting course, and no one wanted to miss a minute of it.
“Okay,” she said.
She smiled at them, and her gaze rested on Amy Cantwell and Samantha Drake. They alone were talking quietly amongst themselves. A bit chatty but still, very good students. Both had never touched a drop of alcohol on school grounds or joined a sorority or been the cause of a need for the S.W.A.T. team. Feeling her gaze now, they stopped and looked up. Her smile broadened. She felt such love for these her pupils, such passion for imparting knowledge unto them.
“Okay,” she repeated, “let’s begin.” She grinned. Time to wing it.
***
As she left the room, she was instantly surprised and pleased to see another familiar face. At the age of fifteen, Maxwell Dimespawn wasn’t a regular student, but dropped by nearly every day during study halls at his high school, and whenever vacation days didn’t coincide between the two institutions. He was smiling maniacally now, as he leaned against a wall, talking to Amy and Sam.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he was saying. “Two months. Two months.”
Amy and Sam exchanged a glance of pure amusement. Amy stepped forward, beginning to giggle giddily. “How dreadfully romantic,” she gushed.
“I’ll take you both for a spin around the city,” he went on. “One at a time.”
“Oh,” they both twittered, and began to sway in an intoxicated manner.
“Oh,” said Sam, “but now, pretty please, won’t you flex your bulging muscles for us, one more time?”
“Ladies, please,” he insisted, “if I did that for every girl who wanted me to, then – then – well, I suppose they’d just get that much bigger!” And he flexed, and they swooned, and Amy tentatively rested her hand on his rather average-sized biceps, and shrieked in ecstasy.
His best performance yet, Mary thought. But, remembering Aaron’s little event, she began to leave again, putting some spring in her step.
“Hey, baby,” he said in her ear.
Mary glanced over and saw him there, matching her pace. In spite of herself, she grinned. This was one entertaining kid. “Nice to see you, Max,” she said.
“Nice to see you always, doll,” he replied. “I wish I was cross-eyed, so I could see you twice.”
“I see you’re still just as sexy as ever,” she said. “I’m proud of you not making them do the puppy pout before you flexed.”
Max laughed. “Eh, this heart of mine can only take so much excitement,” he admitted. “My doctor’s already recommending a pacemaker if I keep this lifestyle up.”
“And will you?”
“Keep it up? With fish like you in the sea, baby, how could I not? Which reminds me, you know I’m getting a driver’s license in two months?”
“So I gathered. But I think you mean to say you’re taking the test in two months.”
“Ow, baby, where’s your confidence in me?”
“Not here. Some chick on the sidewalk smiles at you, you go off the road. Simple as that.”
“I can keep my libido in check for a couple hours. Just you wait, baby, I’ll take you for a spin around the city. Maybe a little more than that.”
“Oh Max, you’re going to ruin my professional reputation.”
“Hey, baby, that’s not the worst of it. You’ll be lynched by my thousand other girlfriends.”
They had arrived at Mary’s office, and she put her hand on the door. “I have to go, Max, I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s a thing I need to do before my next class.”
Max shrugged. “Have it your way, babe,” he said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked expertly and flipped his forefingers at her. “Here’s lookin’ at you – kiddo.”
Mary laughed and opened the door. She paused for a moment to watch Max intercept Candice walking past. “Hey, baby,” he said to her, “did it hurt?”
“Not as much as you will in a minute,” she said, not looking at him.
Mary laughed again. She was used to their encounters. She knew, despite Max’s unwavering smile, that he was frustrated. And that despite Candice’s cold demeanor, she was flattered.
“
She turned to Paul Binyird, one of her colleagues, who was sitting on her small bed and fiddling around with a double helix model. He had his own office, but you wouldn’t know it, not from how much time he spent in hers. Not for any risqué purposes, understand, but because they had been friends for years and enjoyed one another’s company. He was bored now, however, but she knew what would cheer him up.
She switched the computer on and went to Aaron’s email. “You seen this?” she asked him.
Paul let his eyes run over the message, and he grinned as well, just as she’d expected. “The old chap’s got some nerve, I must say.”
“I think we should go,” said Mary. “We’re his friends, after all.”
Paul stared thoughtfully out the window. “Yes, I suppose we are,” he said at last. He shook his head. “Can’t imagine why. I just can’t believe how he ever forgave us. Incredible boy.”
Mary blushed a little in spite of herself. “Yes.”
Paul looked at her carefully, and nodded knowingly. “Of course. How could I forget.”
“There’s nothing between us,” she insisted, blushing more at his obvious insinuation. “It’s all fun and games. Like Max with every girl from here to Singapore.” She knew that to be the case, though she could not stop blushing nonetheless. She knew no one with half a brain would ever believe her. “He’s a regular Indiana Jones,” she finished lamely. “You know.”
Paul shook his head. “No,” he said. He looked thoughtful again. “Do you know what separated Indiana Jones from the old serials he was based on?”
They both knew about both Indiana Jones and the serials from their extensive studies of Earth history and culture. Barring this, they still may have known somehow, for Indiana Jones at least still enjoyed some popularity in certain circles. Mary had seen clips and thought it incredible that such a primitive series, in both plot and special effects, could have possibly endured over the years. But as she thought of Aaron, and her adventure with him, she realized that there were so many more levels to it than that, and was considering becoming a fan herself. Of course, even then, there were so many things separating it from her reality. Which could Paul possibly mean?
Mary thought hard. “Dan Aykroyd?” she guessed.
“Humanism,” Paul insisted. “He makes mistakes. He gets hurt. He has a family. He gets hurt. He cares about people. He gets hurt. Aaron LaBarr isn’t Indiana Jones, he’s a freaking superhuman. And that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
Not necessarily a good thing? Bizarre, yes, but… Mary wondered at this outburst. What could have prompted it? Jealousy? After all these years? Did Paul still have feelings for her? And that brought up another question, one which she was suddenly unprepared to answer. Did she still have feelings for him?
“Paul, I –”
Outside, an alarm suddenly began to ring. Saved by the bell, she thought, getting up. They’d go with everyone else for the fire drill, stay long enough for role call, and then slip away and go to Aaron’s book signing party. They’d pretend the last minute or so had never happened.
But then she heard screams, screams of genuine terror. And shooting, there was lots of that too.
“What the –?”
She hurried over to the window and looked down. She was just in time to see a handful of very motley characters, of assorted species, disappear through the front door. She had a sinking feeling that they weren’t visiting alumni.
She ran out into the hallway. Looking down its length, she saw a couple more go running past. They were wielding guns, and the tips were smoking.
“Paul,” Mary whispered hoarsely, “we’ve got to defend ourselves.”
“Ah, here’s an idea,” he said, “how about we make a rope from your bedsheets, go out the window, and beat it?”
She glowered at him. “We’ve got to fight,” she said. “We can’t just let them do this to our university.”
“Who cares about the university? And who’s ‘them’?” Paul shook his head as she reached under her pillow and pulled out a large, wicked-looking gun. “What have you been using that for?”
“Class discipline,” she shot back.
He followed her cautiously as she ran out the door, ready to blast someone. “It’s your funeral,” he said. But he worried, deep inside, that it really would be. Please reconsider, he thought. Please don’t leave me here.
Just then, a pair of students came racing down the hall, a couple of girls. Paul recognized them as sophomores from their Archaeology 101 class. As he watched, a lone man ran after them, and gunned them both down.
Instantly he was enraged. What kind of monsters were these? All caution and self-preservation thrown to the wind, he lunged at the man with his bare hands. He quickly realized that he had just doomed himself, but to his surprise, the man crumpled easily beneath him. Then he realized Mary had already taken care of it.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been alone. Within seconds his comrades came racing around the corner, an assortment of scum the likes of which he had never seen. Up close they were more hideous than he could imagine, enough to give one nightmares, and he could smell the whiskey on their collective breaths, strong enough to repel flies. At the sight of him, they came still faster.
“Get behind me!” yelled Mary. He ducked, rolled, and complied with her request as she dropped five of their attackers in rapid succession. Then they both ran for all they were worth, amidst a storm of laser fire, weaving back and forth, expecting to be hit any second. Mary risked a glance back and noticed, to her delight, that the entire group had stumbled over the corpses littering the floor.
They were obviously more than a little tipsy. But their state of mind had nothing to do with the attack in the first place. What could they possibly want? And what could they hope to gain by shooting up the building?
They rounded another corner and slipped the rest of the way. Rushing past them, they could barely make out a custodian crumpled lifeless on the floor, beside an overturned bucket of soapy water which was now diluted with blood. His killers had gone to search the adjoining rooms, but Mary and Paul didn’t know that, nor would they have cared. All that concerned them, at this point, was the flight of stairs coming towards them fast.
They each reached out and grabbed at a railing, their legs shooting out from under them, and then falling to the steps with a smack. They sat there, at the top, catching their breath.
“We’ve got to hide somewhere,” insisted Paul.
Mary wanted to argue again, but the commotion had not gone unnoticed, and she could hear more thugs beginning to climb the stairs. Additionally, doors were opening up and down the hall they had just flown through, and of course there was still the group that had originally chased them. Reluctantly, she decided to agree with Paul for the time being, that discretion was sometimes indeed the better part of valor, particularly when it was the only option that kept you alive in the process.
So they got up, ignoring the pain in their legs, and ducked into a niche in the wall, next to a display case of sports trophies, behind a magnificent statue of the school’s founder, Stanley Sternweld. And not a moment too soon – their position was quickly surrounded.
They shrank back as far as they could. It was dusty, dusty as if it hadn’t been cleaned since the statue’s erection. Thinking back to the dead custodian, they wondered, why couldn’t he have started with this end of the hall? One of them was bound to sneeze, and then it would all be over.
Paul tried to keep from inhaling, but he had to catch his breath. He was no longer a young man, after all, hadn’t been for years. And all this abrupt action was taxing his limits. He needed a proper warm-up, for crying out loud. He couldn’t stand it much longer.
Mary found some lozenges in her pocket and handed one to him. Then they settled back, trying to ignore the shadows falling over them.
She concentrated, instead, on what they were saying. It was an alien language, unfortunately, a dialect she wasn’t completely familiar with. On top of that, it was slurred by the cretins’ drunken tongues. She could tell only from the inflections and, when she peeked out, body language, that they were looking for something. Well, come on, she could have guessed that much. But what? What was it?
Suddenly a swath of fire cut the attackers down. Suddenly Max was kneeling down at the statue, peering back at Mary and Paul. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he wondered.
Mary frowned. “Hiding,” she said. “Get back here.”
“Woah, baby, you know I love enclosed spaces with you, but we gotta run. Come on, let’s go.”
“No!” she yelled. “We have to fight. We have to defend the university.”
“Again with this nonsense!” Paul whined. “Listen to the kid!”
“You’re talking sense for once, old man,” said Max.
Paul scowled. “I wouldn’t be talking at all, if I was you, pipsqueak!”
“Guys…” Mary couldn’t explain her devotion to the place. It was just a building, okay. But in addition to being a repository of knowledge for the students she dearly adored, it was her home. Sure, she could move to Aruba and live off of unemployment checks, but that wouldn’t be the same. And besides, she had to avenge some important deaths.
Still, Paul gave her a shove, and then they were both running behind Max, towards the stairs again. Mary counted the corpses Max had just decorated the floor with, and came in at roughly about thirty. Silently she bemoaned this premature loss of childhood innocence.
Max considered the stairs, then led them to the adjoining classroom. Corpses abounded here too, though mostly from the students and their professor. A few survivors huddled under their desks, and jumped out of their skins at the newcomers’ approach.
Max ran to the far window. As he struggled to open it, they heard more footsteps out in the hall from both directions.
“That window hasn’t worked in years,” a student advised them.
“No kidding,” muttered Max.
“Makes it beastly hot in the summer.”
Max swore loudly with every expletive he knew, which was quite a few. Then he grabbed the student’s desk and, barely grunting, heaved it through the window.
“Flex your bulging muscles for us, one more time,” Mary murmured jokingly. Instantly she felt a pang of guilt and despair, as she thought of Amy and Sam. Max’s face tightened, and he turned away. She realized he must have seen them as well.
Next: Chapter Two (Unfinished)