The Next

Chapter 4

7 hours. That's how long we've been in lockdown

5 hours. That's how long ago a gloved man came into out classroom with a gun in his hand. He looked over all of us, each and every one- then chose one person to shove outside. (When the man passed by us, his black eyes flashing at the sight of me and Connor, huddled into a corner, Connor's back tightened and his arms pushed my slightly, protectively, behind im. The way that made me feel. I was so scared only the strong force of will I have kept me from shaking- but when Connor did that, I almost felt safe.) The buff, scary man chooses a girl with black hair and blue eyes. She was in the sciene class, so I don't know her name. The soundproof walls let us know nothing of the girl's (what was most likely horrible) fate. 

23 dead bodies- in our hallway. The principal's voice over the intercom told us the number of dead bodies is equivalent to the number of classrooms in the school, and each classroom has a dead body laid outside. The total number of casualties was 173. After giving us the rundown on what to expect when we are released, he actually lets us go. Connor and I go out to the hallway with everyone else, but once I step into the chaos, I immediately regret it.

There are so many tears. People are crying, some hugging the dead body of a loved one. Others are sobbing, yelling about how the person dead didn't deserve what they got.I think the worst reaction I see, though, are the people who are standing there, with eyes filled with grief rather than tears, whose faces are expressionless rather than sad. They're the worst because it's alike they've ben defeated, that they are done trying to love. In the short times I am able to see through the crowd, I don't see any of my friends lying with a bullet wound through thier chest. No matter how selfish it is, each time I see someone dead who is someone I didn't know, I praise the lord because that's one less chance my friends have at being dead.

The hallway has been warmed by the swarms of people pushing against each other. The hallway reeks of blood, sweat, tears, and underneath that is the scent of urine, as if some people peed themselves at the sight of a dead body. Not that I necessarily blame them. The bodies are pretty ugly, with a bullet wound straight through the heart and left the body to bleed out.

Gripping Connor's hands like they are my life line, I keep walking. Connor, not letting the tightening of my hands on his slide, leads me into the computer lab. It is a rarely used classroom, so no one is in here. "Come here," Connor practically commands me.

He pulls my body against his own in a comfroting gesture. His hands do their job, for they are a great comfort to me. One had is tracing one simple line down from my scalp to the bottom of my hair, while his other hand wraps around my waist, giving me no chance to escape- not that I would've wanted to anyway. My own arms twine up to his neck like a sunflower reaching up to the sun. My forehead reaches just to the base of his neck, so I merely bury my head into his chest. Deciding this isn't close enough, I jump to wrap my legs around his waist. He immediately move to support me. From this position, I am tall enough to bury my nose into the curve of his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asks me. "I didn't have a chance to ask you before, but I can ask you now. How are you taking it? The fifty feet you had to sprint to get to the english classroom had to be the longest fifty foot sprint of your life?" He's babbling, and I know that he know it, but I also know he babbles only when he is concerned or nervous about something.

"I'm okay." I try to lie to him for his own good because I know he'll feel quilty if he knows how scared I was, but my body betrays me. It tells the truth. My tearducts are finally emptying of hot salty tears, every one of which runs down Connor's neck and stains his shirt. He doesn't care about that, though. He only holds me tighter.

"Oh, Mallory. I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have been there then, keeping you safe, but I wasn't. I'm here now, though. You're safe now." They're comforting words, but they only make me cry harder. His scent of spice, sweat, and boy is enveloping me. His arms are acting as my anchor, keeping me from floating off into the sky, where eventually I would run out of oxygen to breath. Tears have found thir way into my mouth, so I taste salt. I hate the taste of them, but it is infinitely better than the metal taste of fear. 

Eventually, my tears dry out. When they do, Connor leads me out into the now nearly empty hallway. As I turn to make sure the door shuts, a detail that had passed my eyes walking in now stood prominent. On the door, there is a taped letter. I take off the tape and the paper is thick, heavy in my hands.  The stench of the expensive cardstock burns my nose like poison. The crisp black ink reads clear.

To whom it may concern:

We, as a whole, would like to clarify the thre main questions you will have. We know what is running through your head right now: What just happened? The answer to that is simple: you were just in terror. The men walking into your cassrooms made sure of that. Once you have recovered from the fear and/or the grief caused by this, you will ask a second question: Why me? You go to this school. This school is the best for us to target, for it not only has people the correct age, but it also has done half of our work for us. You see, it has already chosen the smartest children. Now all we have to do is weed through all of you to find who is the strongest, who is the most resilient, until we come to a conclusion as to who is the best. Realize our final goal is to breed a strong, almost super human generation. This must be done quickly, so it has to be the next generation. You are the strongest children of your generation, and once we have weeded the best of the best, we shall mate you all. The generation you give birth to will be that super human generation. We do not mean to offend you, you are all strong. The strongest of your generation, as mentioned beofre, and we commend you for that, but you just aren't strong enough. The children you birth, all joined together, will be unbeatable, making them in turn all powerful. Since these people will have been bound by growing up together. They will rule the world, and it will be a peaceful, safe environment. Your next and final question will be: Who is doing this? We are a group of people  who, as we are sure you have picked up, are working to breed a generation of powerful leaders that will work together to rule the world. We have seen what it is the world needs, and are working to make that vision a reality. We, respectfully, call ourselves 'The Next.' For now, it may seem that our plan is absurd, insane, but when you see the end results, you will realize just how ingenious the plan truly is. Regretfully, we must leave on this note, one of suspense: We are not finished. We will return. You will not expect it, but we will attack again, and make you stronger and stronger until there are no weaknesses left.

It is signed simply.

The Next

A/N: How is it? Today's word count: 1,363. The running words count: 4,607. I think it's getting pretty intense, isn't it? Thanks and love!