Stranger Nights

Chapter 14

A body lay dead in the middle of the dance floor. The lights were too dim and the two boys couldn't make out anything, but the dark red pool surrounding it. All effects from the punch vanished. People stared at first, but then another shot was fired and another body slumped to the floor. Then people started to run and there was chaos.

The owners of the guns were the members guards union. They were a nasty people and fiercely religious. They were only brought in in times of great trouble or a minister with much power called upon them for a certain task. They had clean faces, but with cold eye's and evil smiles.

'Charlotte.' Henry thought suddenly. A wave of worry washed over him.

"Charlotte!" He screamed. Luckily, Charlotte was just on her way over to where the boys were and was able to quickly find them thanks to Henry's frantic yelling.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We need to go now! Grab my hand." Freddy ordered them. Charlotte grabbed his and Henry's, "Don't let go of anyone's hand, got it?"

They nodded at him. He started to lead them slowly to the door. As more gun shots rang out people became more frantic. People pushed and shoved at them, even so they did not disconnect until they were behind the hall and safely away from the massacre. Then they started to sprint.

The sounds of gun shots filling their ears, They were in the woods and things were dark and they narrowly avoided tree's and their roots. The stumbled and cut their legs on brush. Tears filled their eye's and blinded them.

Henry found it incredibly hard to breathe by the time they reached the backside of Aaeesha's place. He collapsed and gasped like a fish out of water. Charlotte worked fast and took the retainer from his back pocket, uncapping it, and spraying into his mouth, lifting his head up slightly.

Freddy watched them, sitting on the cold ground with his head against the house wall. Charlotte collapsed on the ground sticking her feet in to Henry's sides.

"What happened?" Henry asked after he caught his breath.

"My father." Freddy answered back his voice shaking . "They shouldn't have done one here. Not when my father has thid much power...."

Freddy buried his shocked face into his knees and ran his hands through his hair.
Charlotte squeezed her eye's shut.

"I'm not going home." she said. Both boys stared up at her, "Not yet anyway. I'm too tired."

Her voice cracked, but she didn't cry. Tears streamed down Freddy's face and a few down Henry's face.

They were all shaking. You can tell yourself from the cold, but you won't ever really believe that.

After Freddy stopped crying, Charlotte stopped shaking, and Henry's ears stopped ringing. They slowly got up and walked around the house and into Aaeesha's place.

In the living room there were about ten other people wrapped up in wool blankets. All of which with their face flushed and eye's puffy. The trio were not the only one's who had seeked refuge in that place.

"Hey guys." Aaeesha said softly, cracking a smile. She was sitting in a chair with a book in her hands, "I'm reading a bedtime story, if you want to join..."

A small oil lamp stood beside her and it a lit the sadness in her eye's. She hadn't been there, but here friends had, and she probably lost some friends too.

"I think we'll just go to the library." Freddy answered tiredly.

"Okay. There should be three blankets in there. If you need anything just come get me."

Her motherly instinct had obviously kicked in.

They got to the library and found the blankets stuffed in the corner. This time no one slept alone. They huddled together under all three blankets. Henry grabbed Freddy's hand and Freddy did not mind. They let Aaeesha's voice ,echoing through the halls, lull them to sleep.

They do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning
They do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
They do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
They do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.