Prophesied

Eleven

As they ran downstairs, the first thing Acacia noticed was the stench of blood. It invaded her nostrils making her gag, Ryder looked at her worryingly. She brushed him off but still made an effort to breath through her mouth. Men were fighting policemen, distinguishable by the speckled uniform. Ryder gripped Acacia's waist and tugged her close. She looked at him questioningly, ignoring the flames that spread from where his hands touched her skin. "I need to protect you," he whispered, then at Acacia's horrified look he stuttered another explanation. "because- because you're in the prophecy I mean, yeah..."

Acacia smiled ruefully and let him tug her down the stairs. Men were lying on the floor, some were still twitching and moaning in silent agony. She saw a policeman, lying in a pool of his own blood, a hole, the size of a bowling ball in his chest. Acacia whimpered and Ryder gripped her hand, pulling her further into the house, slinking in the shadows to stay unseen. "I'm so sorry, Ryder," she said, "I'm so, so sorry."

Ryder frowned and pulled her into a hallway where he ducked under a tapestry and into a dimly lit passage. These people seemed to like secret tunnels, Acacia thought. Ryder caressed Acacia's cheek softly and bent down to he level. "Listen here Acacia, as much as people may blame you for this, I understand why you did it."

Acacia let a tear drop down her nose and into her parted lips. She tasted the salt and swallowed nervously, "you do?"

"Yes," said Ryder, "you wet basically kidnapped and kept here against your will. You saw a chance to get away and you took it. It's what many others would have done in your place."

Acacia breathed out, a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. Ryder started jogging down the hall and Acacia skipped ahead. "Who is Havior?"

"Not sure," answered Ryder truthfully, "she never used her last name."

Acacia mused over this, was she the start of the middle name rule? The 'not-allowed-to-tell-anyone-your-middle-name' rule had been in action since before time. According to the Seniors but now that Acacia thought about it, the Senior's weren't exactly trustworthy anymore. "Hey Ryder," she mused. He hummed in response, "how do you know she's my descendent if you never knew her last name?"

He turned to her gravely, "we don't."

The phone in Ryder's pocket buzzed, words tumbled out of a speaker.

"I'm a puppet on a string,"

"Tracey island,"

"Lone Ranger riding,"

"Through a straight heartache,"

"In my mind when she's not right there beside me,"

"I go crazy 'cos here is where I wanna be,"

He clicked a button and the peculiar music stopped mid-sentence. Acacia cocked her head to the side but kept walking, her hands shook by her sides. What did Ryder mean? Did they take her on a whim? A thought that she might be related to the last president of the mysterious U.S. Thoughts ran through Acacia's mind and she stayed in her own little world. Unknown to Acacia, Ryder had just found out that no one in the compound survived. He sucked in a breath and held back tears. He lost a best friend and a home that day.

He didn't feel the need for talking until sunlight flitted through cracks in the rocks and a hovercraft carrying friends and allies of the cause picked them up from the vantage point. Acacia sent him a few glances but nothing more, she knew too well the pain of losing a loved one and she knew that after, you want to be left alone.

Ryder was left alone. To grieve alone.

Help me out here guys, I need ideas for my story, maybe some new characters? Leave them in the comment section below.
Alessandra xx