Scattered - Tangled series (Overprotective famous brothers)

The Final Step

ALISHA

“Hands where I can see them!” yelled a young guy, in dark clothing. My phone fell from my sweaty hands, but I held my hands up. He was about to pull the trigger, when he stumbled to the ground. Behind him was none other than a tenth grader, with a dagger in his hand. He was a Sikh, so it was tradition for them to carry one. Not many followed this custom anymore, but apparently he did.

“I got out. We don’t have much time. Move.” He whispered in a jagged voice, and gestured towards the classrooms where everyone else was.

“No, I have to do what Grey said. Or we have no chance.” I explained.

“I’ll come with you.” Sammy miss said.

“No, no. Stay with the others. Open the windows and check what the others found. I’ll go. I’m small, fast. I’ll be back in five.” I picked up my phone and climbed upstairs. I hit the screen once, twice. Nope, nothing. Just black, cracked screen. Shit. I lost contact.

But they could see me through the cameras. I looked at one of the lenses in hope, and reached the top. I had to rely on the senses of touch, smell and sound now. The smoke blurred my vision, along with choking my breath. I covered my mouth, so I didn’t cough.

I took every step with caution. I couldn’t hear anyone around. Grey said there were no hostages on this floor, so it had to be fairly empty. Still, taking my time, I opened the door to the fourth grade classroom first. Opening the latch to the window, I went out, not locking the door so the Marcos could barge in. I had heard about their bravery, I was about to witness it.

If I survived till then.

The tenth class was on the other floor, so I made my way up there after opening the eighth grade windows in a similar manner. It was far too easy. Too quite, too peaceful. Like silence before the storm.

Everything was so surreal. How knew I’d live this day at the age of thirteen on a boring rainy Thursday? The universe had a sick sense of humor.

I went to the fourth floor. Here, I knew there were some possible hostages and terrorists. I had to be ninja like. Grabbing the acid bottle I carrying, I stepped into the corridor.

I waited outside one door to check for any movement inside. Then, crossing my fingers and holding my nonexistent breath, I opened the door to the eighth grade classroom. Nobody was around. Nobody seemed to have entered it after dragging the kids out. Even with the darkness and thickening smoke, I could see notebooks lying around, pens on the floor.

Gulping down the anxiousness, I went forward and unlocked the latches and threw the windows open. I stood there for two seconds, breathing in the air I needed. Just as I was about to turn, the unexpected happened.

“Tango Charlie, get ready to get shot when time comes to kill them all.” I heard a voice from the air outside.

“Yes, sir.” Said the grave voice.

“You will go straight to heaven. And push the other bastards into hell. Remember, your death means everything. Your heartbeat gone, the kids gone.”

“Yes, sir.” The voice said again. Tango Charlie’s voice.

Oh shit. Somehow, it was connected to him being alive. His death meant our death. And with even the slightest movement, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill himself. I needed to tell this to the people. Greyson. RAW, CIA, Marcos, army, defense, anyone! We were all assuming he had a trigger, when in reality he was the fucking trigger himself!

But how? I pointed a palm up at the camera, but they wouldn’t get it. I had to come one with something.

Maybe the people down had some communication now? But I had to open one more window. But they had three already. But what if they needed more?