Armageddon: The Broken Man - ACT 1

Chapter 15 - Hush-hush

Chapter 15 - Hush-hush

>KEIRA FELTNER

In the last week of August, someone jumped onto the bus just as it was about to leave.

He kept his hood up to cover his face, spoke quietly, and avoided my glance as he passed by to sit a few rows behind. He was silent the entire ride, despite conversations quickly exploding around him, as is usual.

It continued like that until the second Friday in September. He never rode the bus in the morning, for some reason, but every afternoon he was there, alone and eerily silent. With every passing day, he boarded a few seconds earlier, until -- on that second Friday -- he was waiting. He sat two rows behind my normal spot, and just to the left.

I could feel his stare, hidden behind that hood. He was watching, boring holes into the back of my head. His reflection in the window showed only the shadow left by the overhang between face and fabric.

At the stop nearest to my house, the usual handful of people stood and slid out into the isle, shuffling forwards. I knew their faces, but only one name: Maria Hersh, and she was the one with a little seven-year-old brother, Alexander.

He stands and follows me into the isle. I can't read him, but I can damn sure read everyone else's stares. He's normally gotten off at a later stop, but today is different.

Today he follows me.

I can't even run. If I run, he'll take off after me, and he'll know that I noticed him. I can't take the shortcut through the back streets, either. I don't want to be out of sight, no matter what.

If I'm not seen, I'm on my own against this guy. Sure, I'm a 'superhero,' but I'm rusty at best, and I'd really hate to either forget how to properly spark or burn him into ashes.

It's a weird policy for a stalker, I know.

I stayed close to busy roads. With every car I passed, I used the side mirrors to check if he was still following.

He always was.

I kept walking. It didn't matter where, but I knew I needed to keep moving. It was a gut instinct, a reflex.

Damn it, Lavelark. Where are you when I need you? I swear, we sign a sort-of-friends treaty and then you disappear.

I don't even realize that I'm in the back alleys before it's way too late. This part of the city's dead at this time of day, and the only way is forward. I'm screwed, so screwed. I don't have anything in my backpack to defend myself with besides maybe a pencil, but that won't do anything unless I can melt the plastic into a dagger.

He knows who I am, so he'll be armed.

I glance behind me through a glass pane on the other side of the street, a few more alleys down. He's gone, disappeared into thin air.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I wrenched an arm around my back into a pocket, pulling out my phone. My mom's probably going crazy because I'm not home yet.

I'm not exactly wrong. I missed 13 calls, all from Mom. When I make it home, I am so grounded.

Just like that, at the very second my guard was down, he pulled me into the alley. My phone slipped out of my grip, and his hands -- god, he was impossibly strong -- clamped down around my mouth before I even think to scream.

I was being dragged farther away from the street, and all I could do was make muffled squeals that drowned out his words. I didn't want to hear it, and I needed to make as much noise as possible.

Someone hear me, please.

I writhe against his grip, but he doesn't even struggle to hold me down. I stamp down on his feet -- he doesn't make a single noise, and he doesn't flinch.

He wrestles me onto the ground. I'm pinned on my back, held down by his presence looming above. He releases a single hand's grip, and instead holds a finger to his lips.

He's letting me go.

He lets up a minuscule amount of his grip, but that's all I need.

Quicksilver. That's what reflects back in his eyes.

I suckerpunch him, right in the jaw. He falls back, limp like a ragdoll. He curses to himself, and I shuffle onto my feet. I march over to him, and he struggles to try and pick himself up. A flash of fear is all I see before my hands clamp down around his ankles.

I swing him into a brick wall. He grunts and tries to drag himself away, only to stop when I pull him back. His head snaps back to stare at me. The darkness of his eyes screams out his raw terror; he can see this alleyway as his grave.

I land a punt in his ribs, just when he starts trying to back away. The bones crack against my foot, and he screams.

I watch him tremble for a minute. He stares at me the entire time, scared shitless.

I pick him up by the shirt and slam him against the wall. His eyes shut as he flinches, and his head rolls back when I pull him away.

His hood falls back and my grip releases.

"Shit, Keira, my ribs." He groans, strewn across the ground. "I-I can't feel my ribs."

The mess of his hair hides the glossed-over look in his eyes, for the most part. For the first time since August, he doesn't have bags under his eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I hiss at him, and he only sighs. "I got pulled into an alleyway, don't you realize what that normally means for girls like me?"

"Was the suckerpunch really necessary?" He moans, rubbing along his jaw.

"It absolutely was, Liddel, you idiot."