Windward knight

Chapter One

Montessori School, Islamabad.

When she'd first arrived at the school three months ago, Evie had considered the giant indoor treehouse and play area to be an eyesore in the largest classroom on the property. It distracted the children from their work while in class. The fake trunk supporting the multi-level treehouse took up too much space and hindered her view of the students—which meant that Evie would constantly patrol the room. She hated the elaborate structure... until today. Today, it might just save their lives.

That hideous sculpture hid the bathroom door from sight, and that's where she'd hidden herself, a fellow teacher Fiona and the kids. They'd been hiding for hours, and Evie hadn't heard gunfire since the initial attack. It had taken all of her bravery to unlock the door and creep back into the classroom. Her only weapon was a cricket bat—a weak defense against assault rifles.

The children were famished. If she could just get to her bag which sat by the teacher's desk. Evie always carried snacks for growing and hungry students. Her large purse contained an apple, two protein bars, and a Tupperware filled with grapes.

Hands trembling, Evie swiped a strand of long raven hair from her face, held the bat to her shoulder, and edged out from beneath the wooden treehouse. Night had fallen, and the classroom still blazed with light. The windows did not have shutters or curtains, and Evie felt watched. Should she turn off the lights? Would that alert the terrorists, and were they still on the property? And if the coast looked clear, should she retrieve the children and risk an escape?

Mom, what should I do?

Evie spoke to her dead mother in times of stress. She liked to think of her mom as her guardian angel with enormous wings that could shield her against bullets, death, and sorrow.

She only had to protect three children.

The armed men had attacked the Montessori School around 6:00 pm. By God's grace, most of the children were already home. Most of the teachers too. As the "head directress," she'd elected to stay with the afterschool children until closing. The last parent always showed up around 6:30 pm. Evie wondered if this was a targeted attack, and if it was, their target wasn't the school. Had they used the school for cover? It had sounded as if gunfire had started a few blocks away. That was when Evie and Fiona had shoved everyone towards the bathroom door.

Guttural screams and gunshots had tracked the gunmen's progress towards the property. Evie had slipped the bathroom door shut just as she'd heard glass break down the passage. She'd had her phone with her, and after failed attempts to call the authorities, Evie had phoned the one person she swore she'd never speak to again. Her estranged father. He had connections all over the world and would send help.

Two hours after they'd taken cover, Fiona had decided to run for help. She'd never returned, and neither had the local police. Evie hated to think the worst and couldn't stop imagining what had happened to the tall blonde. If Fiona couldn't make it.... Evie didn't know much about Fiona. She'd only just joined the teaching staff. The new teacher wore her blonde hair in a spiky pixie-cut, and everything about the woman screamed brash confidence. She ran tri-athlete marathons and could be the poster girl for GI Jane. Fiona was the complete opposite of Evie, and now she was gone.

It was late, and Evie could no longer wait for rescue. Getting the kids to safety was her responsibility. The air had fallen silent some time ago—no more screams of terror. The stillness scared her more than anything. Even the insects outside had gone quiet. No chirping crickets. It was as if they sensed the evil that hung in the air. Goosebumps broke as she skirted the open door. She'd grab her handbag and head back to the bathroom. The snacks would sustain them until morning. Perhaps then, they could make a run for it. A new, fancy hotel sat just three blocks away and would provide refuge. Evie edged around the desk and stared down in horror. Someone had emptied her bag—the items scattered across the tiles.

The floor tiles were supposed to be white. Evie's lipstick tube rested in a dark, sticky liquid, and the stain had spread across her open passport, soaking the pages. The source of the pooling blood had her silently screaming as she stumbled back. Her foot caught on the play rug, and she fell. Scrambling away, Evie sobbed. A man dressed in all black lay curled beside the desk. Through a mask, lifeless eyes stared her way, and his stiff hands curled protectively around his blood-soaked stomach. Holding in a shaky breath, Evie watched for the rise and fall of his chest. She still held the bat in shaking hands, and as she rolled to her knees, she raised it above her head.

Her tears fell in the stifling silence. She shared the room with a dead stranger in a strange land, and the surreal moment stretched as she gathered the courage to stand.

Silence stirred as shadows entered the room in a blur of movement. Rising jerkily to her feet, Evie shouted at the armed intruders. They may have found her, but she'd die to protect those helpless children. In these final moments, she'd barter with her life.