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Description
All around us, alarms blared, whistles were blown, but to no prevail. The air was alive with screams and the sound of bullets ripping their way out of metal.
"Everybody RUN!" One of the coaches was yelling at the students, ironically. "Run if you want to have a freaking chance at staying alive!" He was a tall man, muscular. A glimmer of sweat already covered his broad forehead. As he ran only yards away from us, he passed by a small, pretty freshman girl who was cowering on the ground. She held her knees in her arms and was rocking back and forth, crying. Somehow, the coach turned into a completely different person, one who had certainly never set foot in our gym before.
"Alright, honey," he murmured, bending down over her. She screamed at him, flinching away. Her crying only got louder.
"It's okay, Holly," he said. "I promise. It's just me, Coach Peters. I am going to get you out of here, you got that? Do you understand me?"
Holly lifted her head slowly and nodded. She managed to meet his cool gaze, and then she held her arms up like a baby wanting to be picked up.
"That's right," murmured the coach. "Come on, now."
He picked up the girl, gently cradling her in his massive arms as if she were just a child. All the while, he was soothing her, crooning softly into her ear as he ran. Every few seconds, the girl would let out a high pitched wail when his voice did not block out the horrible sounds coming from the field, but the coach quickly soothed her once more.
They had just run past us when an object whistled through the air towards them; it was long, shiny and had a sharp, spinning edge. A knife.
With a sickening crunch, the knife impaled itself in the back of Coach Peters' head. For just a millisecond, he looked slightly surprised, and then with a slight moan he toppled forward to the ground as his knees gave out. He fell on top of the girl, face first in the grass.
Holly was silent, still as the coach was on top of her.
By the time they had hit the ground, the four of us had turned and run into one of the nearby tents, forcing its fabric doors shut. We sat down in the cool grass.
We were in the fortune teller's tent. It was decorated with paintings of eyes, among other things. We had picked a bad tent to wait out a massacre in.
"Maybe she'll stay there," said Elise after a while. "She could use his body as protection. They might just think she's dead." She sighed. "That girl could have a chance."
Neither Brittney, Andrew nor I responded. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the screams coming from dying people outside.
I couldn't help but keep thinking of that girl. Holly. She had looked so terrified. She was so young; probably four years younger than all of us.
"We don't have time to watch her," said Brittney. "We have to run. Now."
"Are you crazy?" shouted Andrew. The rest of us were taken aback; Brittney looked shocked. Andrew had never yelled at her before. And he continued, "If we go out there right now, they'll just kill us like everybody else!"
It was quiet for a moment.
"But would it be better than just waiting for them to start searching the tents?" I asked. "What would we do when they found us in here? We wouldn't have a chance, then."
An eerie wave of silence passed over us once more. The screams were getting louder.
After a minute passed, I could no longer take sitting in a tent, waiting to die.
"We absolutely have to go. Now. We can join the crowd." My three friends just looked at me, fear in their terrified eyes. It made this even harder to do. "If we are with a giant group, there is a lot less of a chance that we will be hit," I said. Immediately, I felt bad for saying those words. Could I really sacrifice the lives of students, my peers, to save us?
One look at Elise's terrified face made me know that I had to at least try to save them.
With that, we all stood from our places in the grass. My hand found Elise's as hers searched for mine. With my free one, I opened an almost invisible opening in the curtains of the tent.
On the other side of the field, a one-sided battle was taking place. Already, over a hundred students and teachers of our school lay on the earth, dead. So many gone, and it was not even coming close to being over. Soon, the Macabre Army would slowly turn to using various forms of torture on us before they end our lives, if what they've done previously has any say on what happens to us. At the end, they'll bomb the school and the entire campus to make sure we've all died.
But there wasn't any movement on this side of the fair. The Unspeakables were mostly grouped towards the main entrance of the fenced in field, blocking off any who tried to escape.
"It's all clear over here," I whispered. Elise squeezed my hand and we were on the move.
We passed by the girl, Holly, who was still lying frozen underneath the coach's body. Her eyes didn't even pass over us as we passed by her.
"Can't we at least try to help?" asked Brittney. Her eyes kept drifting back to the girl.
"We can't help everyone," sighed Andrew. His words were so quiet that I almost didn't hear him because of the mayhem. But it was true.
Suddenly, yells started coming towards us, quickly. Gun shots rang out from only thirty yards away.
"RUN!" I yelled. As I said that, bullets started spraying over our heads, hitting the tents on either side of us. We all screamed. Then we ran like our lives depended on it.
Oh, wait. They did.
When we stopped, we were once again hiding behind a tent. A few more bullets passed by, high above our heads. Then they stopped. The reason was obvious: they would just get the chance to kill us later. In spite of my conscience, I poked my head around the corner. The girl was still underneath Coach's body, in direct view of our hiding spot.
But somebody else was there, too. Three of the M.A. had stalked up on her, an assortment of weapons shared between them. We were too far away to hear their words, but I could see that one of them said, "Look what we have here."
The girl stayed under the body, unmoving.
The other two men laughed, shoving each other. They could have been college students. Then they had a heated discussion. A few seconds later, they stopped, and it became clear that they had been fighting about who got to kill her.
The first one of them stepped towards her, the same one who had first noticed her. He drew a knife from his belt: a long, slightly curved blade that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Even from here, it looked lethal.
"Oh, God, no," I whispered.
Elise snuggled up against me. "What are they doing? What do you see?"
"Don't look," I said. Of course, she scooted closer and rested her head on my shoulder, looking directly at the scene. She gasped, and I felt her warm tears soak into my hair, run down my neck. My free hand moved to her face and wiped away the tears.
Andrew and Brittney joined us in watching, then. We watched as the three men pulled her by the hair from underneath the coach's body. The two without weapons held her upright by the armpits and the one with the knife grabbed her face in his hand.
She did not scream even once.
The man with the knife said two or three words to the girl, and then he pulled the blade once across her throat. Holly's blood spilled to the ground and they dropped her lifeless body to the ground, laughing.
They had started to walk away when the first man stopped them.
I looked away as he unzipped his pants.

Description
All around us, alarms blared, whistles were blown, but to no prevail. The air was alive with screams and the sound of bullets ripping their way out of metal.
"Everybody RUN!" One of the coaches was yelling at the students, ironically. "Run if you want to have a freaking chance at staying alive!" He was a tall man, muscular. A glimmer of sweat already covered his broad forehead. As he ran only yards away from us, he passed by a small, pretty freshman girl who was cowering on the ground. She held her knees in her arms and was rocking back and forth, crying. Somehow, the coach turned into a completely different person, one who had certainly never set foot in our gym before.
"Alright, honey," he murmured, bending down over her. She screamed at him, flinching away. Her crying only got louder.
"It's okay, Holly," he said. "I promise. It's just me, Coach Peters. I am going to get you out of here, you got that? Do you understand me?"
Holly lifted her head slowly and nodded. She managed to meet his cool gaze, and then she held her arms up like a baby wanting to be picked up.
"That's right," murmured the coach. "Come on, now."
He picked up the girl, gently cradling her in his massive arms as if she were just a child. All the while, he was soothing her, crooning softly into her ear as he ran. Every few seconds, the girl would let out a high pitched wail when his voice did not block out the horrible sounds coming from the field, but the coach quickly soothed her once more.
They had just run past us when an object whistled through the air towards them; it was long, shiny and had a sharp, spinning edge. A knife.
With a sickening crunch, the knife impaled itself in the back of Coach Peters' head. For just a millisecond, he looked slightly surprised, and then with a slight moan he toppled forward to the ground as his knees gave out. He fell on top of the girl, face first in the grass.
Holly was silent, still as the coach was on top of her.
By the time they had hit the ground, the four of us had turned and run into one of the nearby tents, forcing its fabric doors shut. We sat down in the cool grass.
We were in the fortune teller's tent. It was decorated with paintings of eyes, among other things. We had picked a bad tent to wait out a massacre in.
"Maybe she'll stay there," said Elise after a while. "She could use his body as protection. They might just think she's dead." She sighed. "That girl could have a chance."
Neither Brittney, Andrew nor I responded. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the screams coming from dying people outside.
I couldn't help but keep thinking of that girl. Holly. She had looked so terrified. She was so young; probably four years younger than all of us.
"We don't have time to watch her," said Brittney. "We have to run. Now."
"Are you crazy?" shouted Andrew. The rest of us were taken aback; Brittney looked shocked. Andrew had never yelled at her before. And he continued, "If we go out there right now, they'll just kill us like everybody else!"
It was quiet for a moment.
"But would it be better than just waiting for them to start searching the tents?" I asked. "What would we do when they found us in here? We wouldn't have a chance, then."
An eerie wave of silence passed over us once more. The screams were getting louder.
After a minute passed, I could no longer take sitting in a tent, waiting to die.
"We absolutely have to go. Now. We can join the crowd." My three friends just looked at me, fear in their terrified eyes. It made this even harder to do. "If we are with a giant group, there is a lot less of a chance that we will be hit," I said. Immediately, I felt bad for saying those words. Could I really sacrifice the lives of students, my peers, to save us?
One look at Elise's terrified face made me know that I had to at least try to save them.
With that, we all stood from our places in the grass. My hand found Elise's as hers searched for mine. With my free one, I opened an almost invisible opening in the curtains of the tent.
On the other side of the field, a one-sided battle was taking place. Already, over a hundred students and teachers of our school lay on the earth, dead. So many gone, and it was not even coming close to being over. Soon, the Macabre Army would slowly turn to using various forms of torture on us before they end our lives, if what they've done previously has any say on what happens to us. At the end, they'll bomb the school and the entire campus to make sure we've all died.
But there wasn't any movement on this side of the fair. The Unspeakables were mostly grouped towards the main entrance of the fenced in field, blocking off any who tried to escape.
"It's all clear over here," I whispered. Elise squeezed my hand and we were on the move.
We passed by the girl, Holly, who was still lying frozen underneath the coach's body. Her eyes didn't even pass over us as we passed by her.
"Can't we at least try to help?" asked Brittney. Her eyes kept drifting back to the girl.
"We can't help everyone," sighed Andrew. His words were so quiet that I almost didn't hear him because of the mayhem. But it was true.
Suddenly, yells started coming towards us, quickly. Gun shots rang out from only thirty yards away.
"RUN!" I yelled. As I said that, bullets started spraying over our heads, hitting the tents on either side of us. We all screamed. Then we ran like our lives depended on it.
Oh, wait. They did.
When we stopped, we were once again hiding behind a tent. A few more bullets passed by, high above our heads. Then they stopped. The reason was obvious: they would just get the chance to kill us later. In spite of my conscience, I poked my head around the corner. The girl was still underneath Coach's body, in direct view of our hiding spot.
But somebody else was there, too. Three of the M.A. had stalked up on her, an assortment of weapons shared between them. We were too far away to hear their words, but I could see that one of them said, "Look what we have here."
The girl stayed under the body, unmoving.
The other two men laughed, shoving each other. They could have been college students. Then they had a heated discussion. A few seconds later, they stopped, and it became clear that they had been fighting about who got to kill her.
The first one of them stepped towards her, the same one who had first noticed her. He drew a knife from his belt: a long, slightly curved blade that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Even from here, it looked lethal.
"Oh, God, no," I whispered.
Elise snuggled up against me. "What are they doing? What do you see?"
"Don't look," I said. Of course, she scooted closer and rested her head on my shoulder, looking directly at the scene. She gasped, and I felt her warm tears soak into my hair, run down my neck. My free hand moved to her face and wiped away the tears.
Andrew and Brittney joined us in watching, then. We watched as the three men pulled her by the hair from underneath the coach's body. The two without weapons held her upright by the armpits and the one with the knife grabbed her face in his hand.
She did not scream even once.
The man with the knife said two or three words to the girl, and then he pulled the blade once across her throat. Holly's blood spilled to the ground and they dropped her lifeless body to the ground, laughing.
They had started to walk away when the first man stopped them.
I looked away as he unzipped his pants.