Knockout Boys

Chapter 24: Twisted

I spat out the acidic taste, and wiped my eyes and mouth with my shirt. Taking shuddering breaths, I leaned back on my knees to look up at the moon and the stars. Far from any town, in the middle of drying corn, speckled with frozen dew, the sky was clear. I picked at the plants, the frost melting on my fingers. Blood was drying on my aching knuckles, split from when they cracked Paul's nose. My hands did that.

Distant shouting floated to my ears. Kevin's voice. He was cussing at people, telling them to go away and stick it where the sun don't shine. I couldn't see anyone though, lost in the corn maze. I shut my eyes, shivering, the cold reaching up through the ground. I heard a rustling noise to my right, and Kevin emerged through the wall of corn stalks.

"Rocky!" he gasped. "There you are!" His face was pale and pinched. He was carrying my coat, which I forgot when I ran off. I glanced down at his leg, noticing for the first time Kevin's knee was in a bandage. He'd lost his cane, so his injured leg had to support his body weight. It must be so painful.

Slowly, I stood up. I stumbled forward, falling into his arms. Kevin caught me in a tight embrace. "Oh, Rocky," he said softly. "You had to." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I bit my lip hard to hold back tears, but but they escaped anyway. Kevin gently brushed his thumb over my cheek.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I want to go home."

"Yeah, all right," Kevin said. "Here," he said, giving me my coat. I slipped it on my arms. Kevin wrapped an arm around me, leaning against me, steering me out of the maze. What seemed like hours was only about a minute, and we finally got out of the maze, and encountered the paparazzi. They rushed up to us, congratulating me and snapping pictures.

"I love you, Rocky!" a short girl with strawberry hair cried. She got too close to us, and I felt Kevin tense around me. I exchanged stunned glances with him.

"I'm gonna stand up for myself," she giggled. "Just like you!"

"That's good," I mumbled. "I guess."

"Same!" another girl cried out from the crowd. "You were awesome! You got that homophobe bad!"

Kevin shot them a glare. "That's nice. Now can you kindly get the fuck out of our way?"

Their smiles smiles faded. But the others around them paid no mind, showing no sign of letting us pass. They chattered on and on about how I was their inspiration, could they get a selfie, were Kevin and I together or was that kiss just a statement, could they post the fight on Facebook, could I beat up their bullies too?

A sudden scream pierced the night, cutting down the chatter. I heard another shriek and an "Oh my God!" I blinked, wondering what could have caused such a reaction. I watched as people fled to their cars, the crowd rapidly thinning, a pathway opening up in the center for a limping figure. Paul was walking straight towards me. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out the object he carried in his right hand, a long, smooth, stick-like thing. An icy feeling gripped my chest. No. It couldn't be. This wasn't happening.

Paul had a gun.

A semiautomatic rifle, the kind of gun that kept shooting as long as a finger pressed the trigger. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps. We were going to die. Of this I was sure. I don't know how many of us, perhaps only Kevin and me. Or tonight might become another national tragedy, another mass shooting. Paul's eyes were round and blank, possessed. Everyone around us was frozen still, those who's instinct to remain motionless instead of run. Pale horror reflected in their faces as we watched our fates play out.

Kevin stepped in front of me, as if his body could protect me from what was to come. The bullets would rip through his flesh, no amount of hard muscle or years of training could prevent their cold assault. The machine was created for one simple action: to kill.