The Knife Thrower

Chapter 21

I stand in the cold breeze, looking at the rest of the street. I glance over my shoulder at the opening door to see Izzy coming out. I watch her come stand next to me before looking back ahead. For a long time we just stare at the dark street, both lost in our own thoughts. It has been three days since my parents died. Three days of nothing. No government people coming to question us, no drastic news. I have not been turning up to training with the RSA rebels, so I don't even know how that is going. It has been quiet. Normal.

I spent this Saturday morning doing random errands and chores, but couldn't concentrate. The same worrying question has been plaguing me the whole day, making me restless and irritable. Izzy turns to look at me and breaks the silence first. "Are you or are you not going to tell me what you are thinking." It wasn't a question.

Sighing I say, "For three days there was a lot going on. Everything was extreme and action-packed. Now it has suddenly stopped. Now, for three days, nothing has happened."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

I fiddle with the hem of my shirt. "It just feels like something is wrong. Like something is going to happen now that is bigger than before. I can sense it."

She doesn't reply and is quiet for a long time. Eventually she turns around and walks back inside. I watch her go. The night is dark and starless, the street empty and lonely. A stray cat runs around a corner, dissapearing into the night. I hear a faint noise, my ears pricking up slightly and I go still, straining to hear the sound. It sounds like a distant scratching, like claws against metal. But all I hear is the sound of rustling leaves echoing through the grey buildings. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I silently take a step backwards, towards a lone shadow that I can submerge into. I stare at the black sky, looking for something. Suddenly three birds fly through the air, effortlessly graceful but startled. They fly away from my, behind me. I snap my head forward. Something is coming. Or someone.

I turn around run back into the house, urgently whispering Izzy and Jay's names. They look up alarmed when I reach the kitchen and I hush them with my finger. Motioning for them to follow me I go out of the room and into my parents room. They follow me in and I shut the door behind us. Izzy is holding the only lit candle, which lights up her face in an erre glow. I take a step forward and lean down to their level, heart thumping and senses on edge.

"Something's coming. You must hide. Take only necessary supplies with you, enough to last you the night." I walk over to the still-full closet and push aside clothes hanging on rings. I put my hand against the smooth oak of the back of the closet and move it around. My fingertips find a small, solid button and click it in. I take a step back and watch as a door appears in the oak. When I was eight my dad showed me this secret hiding place in case there was ever an emergency. I received that memory back the other day.

I turn around to see only Jay. He looks at me with scared eyes, bottom lip trembling. I see him fighting the urge to cry. He is trying to be brave, trying to be strong. I pull him into a quick embrace, whispering loving words and warnings into his hair. He steps through the doorway, holding the small candle. He should find himself in a small boxed room that holds a bench and a trunk.

Izzy appears a moment later carrying canned food, the small medical kit, blankets, two big jugs of water and more candles. She dips through the doorway and places the things into the chest. Stepping out again she gives me a quick hug.

"I will look after Jay for you. Be brave and stay safe Kyra." She turns around and walks back into the gloomy closet space. Looking at me one last time, I see a tear running down her cheek. She holds the door slightly ajar. 'I love you' I mouth as she shuts the heavy door with a soft click. My heart hurts and I have to bite my lip to stop my own tears from falling. There is no time to cry now.

I walk out of the room and into my own room. I throw aside blankets and discarded clothing, looking for something specific. Finally I spot it lying on the floor in the corner of the room. I pick up the black cloak and drape it over my shoulders. The cloak is long and thin, reaching down to my ankles. It has a hood which I pull low over my face. I tie the string at the front of my neck to keep it secure. I glance in the mirror on my way out of the room and I stop. The cloak covers most of my body, leaving only my mouth, nose, arms and hands exsposed. But it is not enough.

I think for a second and rush over to one of my black shirts. I rip off the hem of the shirt and tie it over my mouth at the back of my neck. Glancing back in the mirror I see this will do. Now you can't see who I am. I tuck six knives into the belt of my pants and one into my boot. I have a feeling I might need them. I walk slowly through the house, each creaking step making me wince. I stop when I reach the front door and lean aginst it.

My breathing is fast and ragged, my eyes darting back and forth like a cornered rabbits. I can't do this. I can't do this. This is so much bigger than me. I feel myself panicking, anxiety rising inside of me with every thought, threatening to boil over. I taste bile in my mouth and resist the urge to throw up, to pure my body of the acid substance.

No. I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. I place a hand over my heart and wait until I feel it slow. They need me. My brother and sister need me. Something like determination builds inside of me. I have to do this. If I die tonight, I die for them. No one else. I'm not doing this for anyone else. I am their only hope.

With that happy thought I walk through the doorway and out into the night, into the middle of the chaos.