Lethal: A Teen Syfy Thriller by Alexander Charalambides

Author:Alexander Charalambides [Charalambides, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Good Boy Books
Published: 2022-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWELVE

I shouldn’t have, but I ran. I took the photograph.

To be honest, I don’t remember exactly what happened. I know I wandered around under the school for a long time, and I know I hated the walk in the snow.

One thing stood out. The sunrise, in the snow, past the forest. Halfway back to camp, I stop and watch. It’s quiet. No marching. No engines.

I almost didn’t start again.

The campfire’s burned out. The camp behind the cabin is abandoned, and the valley is silent.

No question whether I’ll sleep in my bunk now.

The next thing I see is sunlight, and a shadow.

Someone passes by the door of the cabin, running a baton down the walls. Walls of awakened students follow him.

I step outside, and watch as they file down into the usual marching order.

Another column sets off from the cabins further down. Below, a bagger starts to call out attendance.

I didn’t know there were this many students left.

Some of the voices that answer are ones I recognize.

Rushing would look suspicious, so I move towards the assembly as naturally as I can.

Not that I could rush, even if I wanted to.

“Present!” I shout when my name is called. Faces turn to see me. Quite a lot of them.

I catch a glimpse of Grace and David ahead, but the man at the head of the column calls out again, and the students set off at a pace I struggle to match,

I won’t fall behind though, because now I know that this place has what I need. All I have to do is survive until combat, beat some exhausted, starving kids, then I can eat.

The march is short, like it’s been for the last few days, and we don’t go anywhere near the forest.

I don’t see any increased security. If anything, there are fewer soldiers out here than there have been for the last few days. The weather is clear, too.

Come to think of it, it’s been ages since I heard the wind without having to filter out the whine of an engine.

Not something I’d ever thought about before, but it helps me run.

On the approach to the snowfield, I can see the usual set-up, stretchers at the ready, tables covered in steaming bowls of soup.

No mats. Not enough baggers to watch, either, just poles thrust into the ground, marked with red tape that flutters in the wind.

“Five minutes! Get ready for combat drills!”

Most students sit, or lie in the snow. Some of them, especially in the arm-band heavy columns that have just arrived, start stretching.

“Grace.” I call over to her as I see her sitting near the top of the slope.

“You’re okay, then,” she says. “I’m not really surprised.” I sit down next to her as another line of marching students comes to a stop in the field of poles.

“Did everyone else-”

“Yeah.” She kicks the snow. “Your brilliant plan was a total success.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask her.

“I’ve done this before.” Grace doesn’t take her eyes off the snow. “I used to try and play with my brothers all the time.

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