The Airdrie Firefly

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

All the News Not Fit to Print

Steven and Talyn made their way to Mrs. Nessman's classroom, stopping only once—at Steven's locker, so he could pack the rest of his things and the uneaten meatloaf sandwich into his backpack. They strode quickly down the hallway, hoping they weren't too late.

It's amazing just how fast this place clears out, Steven thought. He kept craning his head, looking into classrooms as they walked past, but there was no one; everyone had left. The emptiness, and the silence that accompanied it, was eerie.

A quick turn down another hallway later, they could see Mrs. Nessman's door was open.

"She's still here," Steven said, picking up the pace to a slow jog.

He was jerked to an unexpected stop; more than a stop—he was jerked backward. As quickly as he thought he'd regained his balance, he lost it again, slowly being pulled backward.

"Run!" Talyn growled.

"What? Why?" Then Steven saw them: visible just inside the doorway were the feet of someone who could only be flat on his face. A shadow leaned against the classroom's open door, appearing to hover over the feet of the prone, motionless man.

"Run!" Talyn demanded again, jerking Steven so hard he spun around.

A horrible groan echoed out of the classroom and through the hallway. It was guttural, something like twisting metal, almost more noise than sound.

Steven's eyes widened. The closest thing to it he'd ever heard was from a Godzilla movie. He locked eyes with Talyn, who was still yanking him away from the room. Geez, is she ever strong. A second groan echoed, this time more distinct—closer. It didn't come from inside the classroom but from in the hallway. The hallway just behind them.

Talyn's eyes broke from Steven's to glance up in the direction of the classroom.

The look in her eyes was all the urging Steven needed. He started running, Talyn alongside him. He dared not look back. The groaning was getting louder, perhaps even closer still.

Steven was running faster than he ever had, so fast that the usually smooth, coordinated act was pushing into clumsy territory, his legs moving too fast for his feet, his feet not gaining the same purchase with each stride, each stride a feeling not unlike stepping off a curb or step that you didn't know was there. He would stumble, then catch himself, then stumble again. Slowing down wasn't an option. He was running for his life.

As frightened and out-of-control as he was, he was still able to take note of Talyn, who was keeping pace with him. Whereas he felt like a fall about to happen at high speed, Talyn looked as if she were out for a leisurely jog. She wasn't even out of breath! Why doesn't she run ahead of me? Steven thought.

Careening around the corner, Steven took two full strides along the side of the wall before his momentum returned his feet to the floor. If he and Talyn could round the corner at the end of the long hall, they might have a chance. They could slip out the front door, leaving whoever—whatever—was chasing them behind. But the screeching groan echoed ever closer.

Steven dared a glance over his shoulder. Whatever it was hadn't rounded the corner yet. As he turned his head back to the direction in which he was running, he felt his misstep. There wasn't even time to throw his arms out to brace his fall.