The Henhouse

Gunshot

Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was all Justin could think. The blood spilling from the new puncture in his elbow only reinforced the thought.

Stupid.

At least he could say it wasn't his idea.

His second thought was to find Ella. He found her in the middle of the fray. A line of blood trickling down her arm marred the even tone of her skin. She must have stumbled upright when it all began, syringe twisting in her arm before shattering, since a broken needle fragment still dangled out of her elbow.

She gaped at it and her eyes hollowed with shock.

Justin took a step towards her as someone hollered, "DUCK!" Before he could move, Jonah tossed herself onto him, sending him folding like a lawn chair under her weight and collapsing on the floor. The boom of a bullet hitting the wall made the ground quake.

"Idiot!" she shouted as they rose again.

The rest of the world came back into focus. It started smelling of blood and sweat, and harsh thumps of scuffles mingled with the shuffling of clothing all around him. Peter was pummeling one guard in the face with a single fist, dazing him just enough to keep him from pulling a gun. Dany and Jonah were holding down another, the latter patting around pockets for a gun of her own....

Justin sensed someone at his back... steps quick but light. Quiet.

Too quiet.

He picked up a chair in front of him and swung it around, using every ounce of force his arm could summon. Metal met cheekbone and a guard stumbled backwards, collapsing, blood and spit sputtering from his mouth all the way down.

Justin tried his best to breathe but his throat felt too tight. He looked to Casper, hoping he'd have closed his eyes... but these were wide open in awe, like he was watching a horror movie.

Lucas was gone.

Another gunshot, and a howl of pain. Justin spun around to find a guard clutching at his leg, where his black suit was growing dark, and damp....

"You SHOT him?!"

"You have a better idea?!" Jonah screeched, gun in hand.

"Hold him." He dashed forward.

His hands landed square on the man's chest. The guard writhed and squirmed back, but with Dany, Jonah, Peter and Artie gripping each limb, he stood little chance. Justin patted every pocket he saw until the shape of a syringe greeted his fingertips. Then he pulled it out and looked at it. The liquid in it was clear, the tube unlabeled.

"What's that?" Jonah cried.

Justin hoped for the best as he stabbed the needle hard into the man's arm, making sure he'd pierce the fabric. He slowly ejected. To Justin's relief, the man's limbs settled, moans and shouts quieting, irresistable pull of sleep drawing him under.

Just like Gabe.

Peter scambled to pick the man's gun.

"Make sure the others stay down," Justin commanded. "There should be a few tranquilizers on each-"

A laugh, quick and breathy, cut Justin short. It was a manic laugh - a laugh of desperation, disbelief or possibly both. The group faced to the window. Lucas had returned, gun of his own in hand, directed exactly at Casper's head – the metal barrel pressed hard against his sweaty mop of hair.

Casper was crying.

Lucas's face was enigmatic, a paradox. It was chuckling, yet furious. His eyes were wild, crazed; every muscle was tense. Not straying his eyes from Justin, he reached for his mic and again brought it to his lips.

Justin felt sick to his stomach all over again. Stupid, so stupid.

"Did you ever wonder..." Lucas asked, "why you had to be so alone up there? Why the Agency wouldn't even bring you meals in person?"

His foot tapped on the floor. No one answered.

"They feared you. Don't you see that? They saw you for the monsters you are...."

Justin's heart skipped. He looked down to the guard he'd just neutralized, blood still oozing dangerously from his wound. He didn't need gauze or pressure– he needed an ambulance, a hospital. Something he wouldn't get down here.

Jonah hadn't aimed for the head or heart, but she might have killed him just as well.

"Well, now the tables have turned," Lucas continued. His lips curled upward and his nostrils flared. "Now you give, we take. That's what you have to accept." His smile fell.

"We've already won. Mommies and Daddies aren't coming to save you. The only question is how it all happens. So, who do you want to be?" He smirked again.

"The hero? Or the villian?"

"How about human beings?" Justin growled.

Lucas cackled, then his face curled back into a scowl. His arm flinched, gun pressing hard enough on Casper to force him to lean his whole body over.

His eyes were open.

"DROP YOUR GUNS, NOW!" Lucas screeched. He leaned in over Casper like a vulture, so that the mic was close enough for them to hear Casper's sniffs and moans all over. Justin's heart beat at a mile a minute. The ticking pulse came back. His fingers drummed on his thigh with an ever-rising tempo, so fast that his muscles grew strained, wrist also flicking in and out from time to time until he was sure his hand would fall off altogether... his knees near-buckled; his eyes grew distant; his back seemed to fold; his head pounded, and pounded and pounded.... And it was all times eight, for everyone, and for Casper, who could stare down the barrel if he could just turn his head an inch, without it being blown clean off....

Many things happened in a few seconds.

A mass of black shuffled behind Justin. Turning, he saw a guard rise once more, drawing something from a pocket at the hip. He felt the group pull tighter together, back-to-back, andin the corner of his eye, Justin saw Lucas dash wildly across his room, reaching for something. A switch. The lights in the tiny room went out.

Justin didn't have time to turn before he heard it all.

A voice. Casper's.

Crying.

Begging.

The click of a gun.

The shattering of a large pane of glass.

The rings of gunfire.

A scream. Several.

The whine of a door swinging open.

And the smack of Peter pounding the guard back into the ground.

It was all over before Justin turned around. The window shattered entirely, shards decorating the floors of both rooms. The smaller room was much brighter now than before; the group could once again see Casper in vivid, unobscured detail: the bright red stripes of his V-neck, down to the delicacy of his long, reddish-orange eyelashes. But there were other things Justin still couldn't see again – the sky blue in his eyes, or the regular puffiness of his curly ginger hair. His eyes were closed, at long last, and his hair - where it wasn't matted by sweat – had been drowned, suffocated by thick globs of blood.

Casper was dead. And Lucas nowhere to be seen.