Chapter 26
“Fire,” Camryn said, a little unnecessarily.
“Yeah,” Martina replied, sounding stunned. Outside one of the windows, there was a blur of movement. Someone running away? Of course they were running away, she thought. They’ve already lit the place on FIRE.
Martina didn’t want to die. Very few people did, she figured, but she really didn’t want to. Not now. Not with her whole life still spinning out in front of her, shiny and full of possibilities. She had so many things she wanted to do.
And fuck the person who wanted to take that from her.
Smoke poured into the modular, making it hard to breathe.
Cam coughed, covering her mouth. “What are we going to do?”
Martina covered her own mouth, casting around the room, trying not to panic. The thing about panic was that it didn’t help. It just made your chest tight and your brain shut down. Exits. The door was an exit, but the door was stuck. The windows, however…
“Try to wake up Zara.” She picked up one of the chairs. “It will be easier to get out of here if we don’t have to carry her.” Then she hauled back the chair and swung.
The chair bounced against the glass, making her arms vibrate.
Next to her, Camryn was busy getting Zara up onto her shoulder.
The student chairs were too flimsy. That was the problem. She whirled, running over to the teacher’s desk, which had a solid wooden chair. She snatched it up, running toward the window like a battering ram, screaming.
The glass shattered outward, catching the moonlight and flames, shining in beautiful destruction.
Martina used the chair to clear out the shattered glass around the window frame before tossing it aside.
“You go,” Cam grunted. “I’ll pass you Zara when you get out.”
Martina didn’t bother arguing, climbing over a short bookcase and out the window, her jacket sleeves over her hands to try and protect herself from the glass. Once she was through, she turned around, putting her arms out.
Getting an unconscious body out a window was harder than she would have thought. It took a lot of grunting, swearing, sweating—and she may or may not have bonked Zara’s head against the window frame—but eventually Zara was out and Cam climbed out behind her.
Without talking, they grabbed under Zara’s arms, pulling her away from the fire. Once they were far enough back, they settled her carefully onto the ground. After taking a minute to catch their breaths, they straightened, staring at the flames.
For several long, quiet moments, Martina stood next to Camryn, happy to be alive and not stuck inside a burning modular box.
Finally Martina wiped a sleeve over her face. “I told Rick I was going to burn the school down this year, but I was joking.”
“Technically we didn’t burn it down,” Cam said. “Someone else did. Though I appreciate your moxie.”
Martina turned to her, eyes wide. She was tired.
Sweaty. Her mouth tasted like smoke, and more adrenaline pumped through her veins than blood.
So it didn’t surprise her when she grabbed Cam’s cheeks with both hands, pulled her close, and kissed her like someone who had almost died but clung to life with sharp fingers.
And Cam, her hands shaking, kissed her back.
—
Rick blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. There had been no more flashes, no more firecracker pops, but he didn’t think for one second that the killer had left.
Which meant they couldn’t stay where they were. Rick decided stealth was out—they needed speed. He scrambled to his feet, helping Nika up. She grabbed hold of his hand, not letting go as they ran for the back door.
The only light left in the room came from the exit signs by the doors, which cast everything in a sickly green color.
There was another bright crack of light as the gun fired again—this time from where Rick and Nika had just been.
Behind him, Nika gasped, stumbling a step.
Rick tugged her away from the exit, veering toward the other side of the stage.
They ran through the split in the middle of the curtain, coming out right behind the throne.
Footsteps slapped behind them as they ran—the shooter was not far behind. When they passed the castle set piece, Rick took a moment to shove it so it careened behind him, wobbling on its wheels. He heard a startled grunt, the killer smacking against it as they chased after Rick and Nika.
Rick pelted down the short set of stairs into the aisle leading toward the back of the auditorium, rows of seats fanning out to the left.
As soon as they were close enough to the door, Rick turned sideways, hitting the push bar with his hip and sliding through the opening.
Outside of the auditorium, Rick caught sight of the large gray table covered in playbills and sign-up sheets for drama.
He let go of Nika long enough for both of them to grab the end of it and shove it in front of the door.
It wouldn’t stop the person, but he hoped it would slow them down a little.
Rick started to run again, only to have Nika yank him back. “Not that way! It dead-ends!”
Rick didn’t argue, following her as they sprinted in the other direction with every ounce of speed they possessed. They were halfway down the hall when they heard the screeching sound of the table being shoved across the flooring. They ran faster, adrenaline and fear driving their feet.
At the next turn, Nika yanked his hand again, her word a whispered hiss.
“Cafeteria!” She turned, and Rick followed as they ran into the cafeteria.
Past more tables, then through swinging doors into the back of the kitchen.
He didn’t think Nika had a plan beyond run. He didn’t have a plan beyond run.
Out of the kitchen, through another set of doors, and into a short hallway. Behind him, Rick heard a slamming sound and the clang of pots and pans hitting the floor. But by then, Rick and Nika had burst into the gymnasium.
He paused for a second to catch his breath and listen. He had a stitch in his side, and Nika was breathing hard, which made it difficult to hear who was following them.
“You okay?”
“We’ve got to keep going.” Nika gulped down air, grabbing his arm and dragging him forward. “Right behind us.”
Rick followed, but he knew they couldn’t keep going like this indefinitely. Ahead of him, Nika stumbled. Rick didn’t think, just grabbed her around the waist and yanked her alongside him.
“Thanks,” she gasped.
They couldn’t stop, not now, not with the door behind them opening again. He could hear pounding footsteps behind them, getting closer.
Rick half ran, half dragged Nika to the door, shoving her through it. He came out right behind her, into the covered outdoor area where a few basketball courts lingered. Only right now they were full of…
Floats?
Homecoming floats, a few rows of them, some flat and sparsely decorated, a few more elaborate ones done up in all kinds of designs jutting out in the darkness.
They ran past a few before Nika grabbed Rick’s arm and pulled him behind one that Rick thought was either a poorly rendered football helmet or the pineapple house from SpongeBob.
Rick put an elbow over his mouth, trying to quiet the ragged breaths sawing in and out of his lungs. With the other arm, he pulled Nika to him and startled when his hand hit something wet. He pulled back his hand, horrified to see it smeared in red.
“Come out, come out, naughty children.” The lilting voice drifted from somewhere behind them, followed by padded footsteps. “No use hiding.”
Nika grabbed Rick’s elbow, guiding him around the side of the float.
“This area’s fenced in right now, you know.” It was a woman’s voice, breathy from the chase. “To protect the floats from hooligans.”
Rick was sure he recognized it but couldn’t quite place it. A teacher? A customer? Who was she?
“One of the many things the Booster Club handled for homecoming. Not that any of you thank us. Children these days—ungrateful and rude.” She somehow sounded syrupy and irritated at the same time, like they were being stalked by a pissed-off kindergarten teacher.
Wait. Wait. The Booster Club! Images came liquid-fast into his mind then—the day the yearbook was handed out. The football game. The way Allison talked about her mom…
Mrs. Haysmith.
The steps were coming closer now. Nika and Rick darted silently to the next float.
“You’re as bad as my daughter. I do so much for her, and how does she thank me? Runs off to live with her father.”
Rick tried to remember if he’d seen fencing going around the covered area, but panic and fear had blanked his mind. If she was telling the truth, they’d have to scale the fence, and Rick didn’t want to be exposed while they climbed. Mrs. Haysmith would have a clear shot at them the entire time.
No, their best option was to get back through the door—except the killer would not only see them cross about ten feet of empty concrete, but also hear the door. They needed a distraction. Rick tried to think of what he had on him besides his phone and came up blank.
“She’ll be grateful now,” she said fiercely. “When she sees what I’ve done for her. Clearing the path of all of those who stood in her way—who kept her down.”
Rick quietly took out his phone, turned the ringer on, and placed it on one of the platforms next to a rendition of Claus the Wildcat done out of papier-maché.
He clasped Nika’s hand, guiding her through the maze of floats, veering away from the mocking voice.
He didn’t think killers actually monologued in real life—he’d assumed that was something people only did on TV.
Rick could tell from the smug satisfaction lacing the woman’s tone that she wanted them to listen, that she wanted someone to hear her amazing plan. She was proud of it.
He pulled Nika to a stop behind a float close to the gym doors. He leaned in close, his lips almost touching Nika’s ear, his voice a barely there whisper. “Call me.”