HEART OF ICE

CHAPTER 11

The morning light grew pale and then vanished for a single heartbeat. A starburst of blinding radiance dwarfed the daylight shining down onto the frosty street. My ear drums felt like they were being squeezed in that long fraction of a second as the bubble of world-stopping pressure rolled through and then out of my body. The ocean of light was everywhere. And then, it was gone. I blinked furiously, feeling my left shoe skidding backwards across the asphalt. I'd managed to stay upright-barely.

The echo of a metal-wrenching CRACK and devastating pops of weakened glass bounced off the surrounding buildings then back to my ears. I shook my dizziness away, turning my head in time to see the van roll back down onto its left-side tires. The pulse had punched against it so hard, the van had lifted off the ground on one side. The black, metal skin was dented and cracked where my energy had hit it. Long, white fissures spread out like bony tentacles across the weakened armor. The tinted windows were gone. The open spaces were just jagged cavities revealing the names inside.

Jeremy Tep. Victor Hall. Deborah Mayer. Uriel Martinez. Travis and Bradford Karver. And, worst of all and the least surprising, Ariana Ackley. The sixteen-year-old menace brushed the glass shards out of the curls of her brown hair then looked up wearily. Her eyes found mine from across the street. Her pale lips curled into a vengeful sneer. Her brow furrowed hatefully. That crazy girl wanted to kill me.

"Turn us around," she shouted.

Travis Karver was sitting in the driver's seat. I spotted the dense, dark pads of the Legion armor. The force of the pulse must have knocked his and his brother's helmet off. He tried desperately to start the van's ignition. The motor whirred and ticked loudly. He tried again, getting the same results.

"You're dead," Ariana shouted from her seat behind Travis Karver.

I shook my head, turning away from the damaged vehicle. I spun my bike around, putting the van of Legion misfits and the backdrop of car alarms behind me. I had to find Moe.

"He's getting away," Ariana yelled. "Let's go!"

I started pedaling, trying to ignore the steady flow of names appearing all around me. Everyone was coming outside or opening their windows above the street to see what all the commotion was. Where is Moe, I thought urgently, trying to see through the confusion beginning to clog my mind. I reached the intersection where the van had appeared. I found Moe's name amongst the hundreds of others. His was small and faint, but at least it was there.

My relief, in that moment, was short lived. As soon as I started to turn back up Fisher Street, all I could feel was anxiety. The van's engine roared to life over the din of car alarms still wailing in the background. A new wave of adrenaline surged through my body at the sound of the noisy motor. As the van's heavy tires peeled over the asphalt, my feet pumped harder than ever on the pedals of my bike.

I was already at the next intersection by the time I sensed the armored band of bullies approaching behind me. The van I had scarred was quickly gaining speed. I raced through the open square just as a line of cars began crossing. I felt the cold wind roll off the vehicle that passed closest to me, missing my back wheel by less than a foot. The driver's horn was still ringing in my ears as I sprinted under the stoplight.

My course didn't get any easier on the other side of the intersection. There were slow moving cars and an idling delivery truck I had to quickly weave around. Meanwhile, Moe's name was getting brighter. We were going to intersect at the top of the block. I focused on him, trying to ignore the rattling crunch of metal and glass behind me. The van was plowing through the intersection like a battering ram. A chorus of car horns filled the street. People on the sidewalks were pointing and shouting, but thankfully not at me.