Meredith McCardle - The Eighth Guardian

“No, what you need to do is to follow orders when I give them. Now take her.”

“He was!” I shriek as Abe writhes on the ground next to me. “My father was Delta. He met Alpha here at Peel, and together the two of them hatched a plan to start making money off all the missions. It’s been going on since before I was born. Probably since before you were born, Red.”

“Where’s your proof?” Red shouts, his chin jerking up in the air.

“She doesn’t have any,” Alpha says. He takes a step over to me, then yanks me up and pushes me toward Red. His hands tremble. “Because there isn’t any.”

“I’ve seen it. Yellow has, too.” Oh God, Yellow. Please let Yellow be okay.

Red draws in a breath through his nose. He’s trying to take it all in; I can see it. He looks from me to Alpha, then back to me. And then he reaches a hand to his earpiece and mutters, “Whiskey Oscar Lima Foxtrot.”

I don’t know what that means, but judging from Alpha’s reaction, Red believes me.

“No!” Alpha shouts. He lunges forward, and Red pushes me behind his shoulder. Alpha raises the taser again, and Red brings up his hand to block it. But the sputtering sound rings out again, and Red screams as he drops to the ground.

I jump back. My heart thumps in my chest. And then Alpha turns to me.

He’s straining to keep it together. His eyes dart from Red to Abe to me. He drops the taser to the ground, and for one brief second my heart leaps as I think Alpha’s going to surrender to me.

The second is short-lived.

Alpha unhooks a gun from his holster and raises it. I don’t flinch.

But Alpha does. Because just then there’s a distant sound in the air. Whup whup whup whup . I know that sound. I don’t have to look up. It’s a helicopter.

Alpha’s head snaps up toward the sky, then down and over at Abe. “Red!” he yells.

The Black Hawk is getting closer. I can see men dressed in black hanging out of the doors. And they can see me. And Alpha. And the gun he’s pointing at me.

Alpha lowers the gun and takes off running across campus. I scream and stare up at the helicopter. It’s still too far away. They won’t be on the ground for at least a minute. That’s giving Alpha too much of a head start, so I take off running. It’s stupid. He’s armed; I’m not. But I can’t let him get away.

Alpha darts through the quad just as class is letting out. Kids spill out onto the sidewalks. I don’t look at them as I run past.

“What the—?” someone shouts. “Is that Amanda Obermann?”

I ignore it. Alpha zips into the science building. I’m only a few steps behind. I rip open the metal door with such force that it bangs against the brick exterior. I don’t see Alpha. I stop. Listen. Footsteps above me. Hard, heavy footsteps clomping up the stairs.

“Stop running!” I race up the stairs. In the landing, I see him. He’s thundering down the hall, heading toward one of the chem labs. He ducks in and slams the door, and I go barreling in after him.

“When are you going to give up?” I shout as I fling open the door. “You’re—” I stop. He’s standing right in front of me, and there’s a gun pressed into my forehead. I blow out the rest of my breath.

“Hands up, please,” he says. “And don’t try to grab the gun. I’m anticipating it.”

I raise both hands slowly. The gun in Alpha’s hand doesn’t waver as he stares at me, and my mouth goes bone-dry. People have pressed guns into my head before, but always in training. Never for real. I swallow.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I whisper.

“I’d give you the same warning,” he says, “but it seems we’re a bit late for that. Take off the watch.”

Not good. That watch is my only means of escape.

“Now.” He punctuates the word. I keep one hand raised as I lower the other one and slip the chain over my head to hand the watch to him. “Thank you,” Alpha says, then he waves the gun back, ordering me into the room.

Alpha shuts the door and points the gun toward the nearest stool. I keep my hands up as I lower myself onto it. I scan the room even though I know it. I had a class in here. There are three rows of long tables, each with six stools behind them. There’s a whiteboard at the front of the room and cabinets at the back.

“Where’s the notebook?” Alpha demands.

“In a safe place.” I try to keep my voice as calm and flat as I can. Because the truth of the matter is that I have that notebook tucked into the back of my jeans, and I can’t believe in this moment that I have it with me. So stupid.

“You’re going to need to get it.”

“No problem.” I smile. “Just let me go, and I’ll fetch it for you right away.”

Alpha doesn’t blink. “Nice try,” he says, but I know that he’s at a crossroads, same as I am. He needs that notebook back so he can destroy it. And I need to keep holding on to it.

Alpha walks over to a Bunsen burner set on the first row of tables. He switches it on, and it sputters a second before the smell of propane wafts toward me and a blue flame flickers up and sends my stomach plunging into a frigid ocean of fear.

“Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Alpha asks. His voice is changing. There’s desperation in it.

I don’t answer. I stare at the flame.

“Where is the notebook?” Alpha barks.

“I don’t have it!”

And then before I know what’s happening, Alpha grabs me and yanks me to the first row. His fist clenches around my wrist, and I turn and scream and kick; but he has me pressed against the table, and I can’t move. My hand lowers toward the flame, and the heat pricks my palm. Tears roll down my face and I choke.

“Why?” I sputter. “Why are you doing this to me?”

And then the flame goes out, and the Bunsen burner goes crashing to the floor. It clatters against the linoleum. He unhands me, and I stumble back, gasping and panting and shaking.

Alpha raises the gun and points it at me, and I flinch. But only for a second. Because then I look at his eyes. Something’s changed. They’re still dangerous, but now there’s fear and resignation lurking behind them. I need to act.

I raise my hands so that they’re chin level and slowly extend my right. “Give me the gun.”

Alpha doesn’t lower the gun, but he also doesn’t put his finger on the trigger.

“Please give me the gun,” I say. “My dad wouldn’t want this.”

Alpha blinks but doesn’t say anything.

“You and my dad were friends,” I say. Right up until the point you had him killed.

I stare at Alpha’s hand. The one holding the gun. Waiting for any sign, any moment of hesitation or relaxation.

“I never meant . . .” Alpha’s eyes shift from me to the side, and I take my chance. I leap at the gun. I grab on to it and try to force it down, but then Alpha snaps back to attention and twists away from me. He raises it to my forehead, and I suck in my breath.

“Stop it!” he yells. “I told you I was anticipating that!”

“You don’t want to hurt me,” I whisper. “I know you don’t.”

He doesn’t respond, but I know I’m right.

I think of the hostage negotiation training I had right here on this campus and choose my words carefully. “Tell me what happened. Why you got mixed up with this in the first place. I’m sure it’s not your fault.” It’s a lie. He’s totally to blame. But I need him on my side.

“I can’t fight them,” Alpha says. “They’re too dangerous.”

Yes!

“ Who? Who’s too dangerous?”

“XP.”

Chills race up my arms. “Who is XP?”

Alpha shakes his head, as if he’s trying to snap himself back to being the collected, professional, authoritative figure I’ve always known, not this man who’s on the verge of breaking.