Book Two: Hollow City (My Remake)

Chapter 4~A Stab in the Dark

Quote of the Chapter:
The actions of another do not define who you are, no matter the relationship.

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We tumbled out of the grass then raced down the embankment and back around the curve. From there, we sprinted to the boats, the fastest of us - Jacob, Hugh, and Millard - reaching it first. "Everyone grab hold and run to that cave!" shouted Emma, pointing to a darkened fissure among the rocky hills. Bronwyn, already having offered all her strength, was barely able to carry herself let alone a boat. And so, the ten of us worked together, groaning and straining against the hulls to keep them from burying their noses into the wet sand. With arched bodies and outstretched arms, we made it halfway across the beach before Miss Peregrine let out a warning cry. We peered up at the sky - two bobbing zeppelins came up over the dunes and into our line of sight.

"Damn it!" I croaked.

"Go, go, go!"

We broke into an adrenaline-fuelled dash, the boats flying along side us as Miss Peregrine trailed lamely behind, her broken wing dragging beside her as our boats did to us. When we finally passed the entrance to the cave and were out of sight, we flopped against the side of the keel, out of breath and at the point where exhaustion couldn't describe how we felt.

"Please," Emma prayed - every so often a breath between her words, "please let them not have seen us."

"Ah, birds! Our tracks!" exclaimed Millard. Then he hurriedly stripped off his blazer, and scrambled back outside to cover the drag marks from our boats. He had gotten on all fours, desperately brushing awake the marks until the edge of the ocean where we were a moment ago. Despite the bandage tightly wrapped around his shoulder and part of his chest, Millard was the only one least likely to be seen, but it was the same reason that bandage was around him in the first place that made me worry so much about him. It seemed beaches were always the setting to a significant moment in my life, whether it be watching my parents die, witnessing the boy I love get shot, or getting stranded while on the run from wights. It was a tragic lifestyle, but one I seemed to live by.

A minute later, Millard returned, shivering and caked in half wet, half dry sand - a crimson red seeping through his chest which I quickly realized was lacking the bandage I spoke of earlier. "They're getting close now," he panted. "I did the best I could, but I can't be certain they wouldn't see what was left."

"You're bleeding again!" fretted Bronwyn.

"What happened to your bandages?" I asked in concern.

"I had to throw it away. It was tied in such a complicated matter that I couldn't remove it quickly. An invisible must always be able to disrobe in an instant, or his power is useless!"

I shook my head in annoyance as I helped him brush off some sand. "You idiot . . . "

"He's even more useless dead, you stubborn mule," said Emma with the same expression as me. "Now hold still so you don't bite your tongue. This is going to hurt." She squeezed two fingers into her opposite palm with concentration, and when she took them out, they we glowing, red hot.

I took a small step back while still holding onto Millard, understanding what she was going to do next. Millard followed my lead, his body going stiff.

"Now then, Emma, I'd rather you didn't-" But his sentence ran short as Emma pressed her fingers into his wounded shoulder. Millard gasped in a way that made me cringe. There was the sound of singeing meat, and a curl of smoke rose from his skin. A moment later, the bleeding stopped. "I'll have a scar!" Millard whined.