Pitch

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I woke at dawn. My muscles were cramped from sleeping curled in a ball inside the janitor’s closet and I stretched my arms high above my head as I race walked out of the school, pausing only to retrieve the gun Angelique had knocked out of my hands. During the melee it had skittered across the hallway and slid under the drinking fountain. It was a little dusty, but otherwise no worse for wear.

The other gun, the one I had fired first and dropped, was no where to be seen. I assumed Maximus had taken it with him when he left.

Maximus. I shied away from even the thought of his name, and banished him to the far corners of my mind. I couldn’t afford to think about him. Not now. Perhaps not ever again.

Did you know they were going to come here?

Yes.

I started to run. Despite being exhausted both physically and mentally, I didn’t slow down as I sprinted headlong through the town, retracing my steps from last night. The need to find Travis, to make sure he was all right, was like a drug pumping through my veins, filling me with a sort of frantic energy. I didn’t stop until I was through the hotel’s spinning doors.

The smell of blood hit me immediately. It tasted metallic on my tongue and I closed my mouth tight, clamping my teeth together until my jaw ached. Still the scent of it invaded my nostrils, sweet and ripe as an apple left out to rot in the sun. My stomach cramped, a knee jerk reaction to what the scent of blood had come to signify: death.

A Drinker had been in the hotel. I could see its claw marks running down across the woodwork of the main desk. Our stockpile of supplies had been shredded. What little furniture remained in the lobby had been completely wrecked, as if the Drinker had gone into some kind of mindless rage, destroying everything in sight. With my heart in my throat I sprinted across the lobby and flew up the stairs, screaming for my Dad and Travis with every step.

The green and gold carpet muffled my footsteps as I raced down the hall, bypassing door after door until I got to the one Travis and I had shared. I threw it open and catapulted inside, nearly falling face first onto the bed. The scent of blood was stronger here. There was no mistaking it. Not point in convincing myself I was imagining things.

The shades were still drawn tight. My pounding heart counted off the seconds as I searched the pitch black room, just like I had less than twenty four hours ago, except this time I was filled with an even deeper sense of dread.

The room was empty. I went through Dad’s the same way, looking under the bed, throwing open the closet door, screaming into the bathroom. It, too, was empty. But I know they had to be here. Somewhere. The blood was too fresh for them not to be. I didn’t let myself think about what so much blood could signify.

Cursing, crying, pleading I stumbled down the hall and searched room after room after room, screaming until my voice was hoarse.

The further I went into the hotel the darker it got, until I was running blind, using the walls to support me. When I saw the light blossoming from the edges of a door at the end of the last hallway my knees almost buckled in relief.

I had found them and they were hiding away, just like they should have been. Safe and sound. A breathless laugh forced its way past my lips. I had worried myself to death for nothing. Except the scent of blood was stronger than ever, and I couldn’t shake the terrible feeling of dread that threatened to choke me with every gasping breath.

“Dad, Travis, I’m here! It’s me. I’m back.” I pushed open the door and instantly covered my eyes, blinded by the light after running around so long in the darkness.

Gradually my vision returned, refocusing like a camera lens, sharpening slowly around the edges before spiraling in towards the middle until everything was clear. Clear as crystal, because I saw who was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. And I saw who was standing over him. And I saw, I finally saw, what I had chosen to overlook for too long.

“Is he dead?” My words came out flat. Emotionless. My question was a rhetorical one. I knew Travis was dead. No one could lose that much blood and survive. It seeped across the tile floor, reaching all the way to the door and I was forced to step in it as I walked towards the body of my best friend.

Maximus looked up and my breath whooshed out to stain the air with shock and betrayal. Even now, faced with Travis lying bloodied and broken on the floor, even after everything I had learned last night, I had not allowed myself to imagine… I had never truly thought… But the blood couldn’t lie and Maximus’s face was covered with it.

“You,” I whispered in agony. “How could it be you?”

His mouth opened and closed. He was quick, so quick, but I saw the flash of tell tale silver before he could conceal it. He reached out his hand to me in a silent plea. Blood dripped from his fingertips. “This is not what it looks like,” he said quickly as his eyes darted from my face to Travis and back again. “Lola, you don’t understand. Let me explain.”

“Isn’t what it looks like?” I repeated dully. I waited for the pain to start, for even though I had denounced Maximus last night, some small part of me had still trusted him. Still believed in him. Still wanted to stand beside him.

Yet I felt… numb. Cold. Distant, as if this was happening to someone else. As if someone else’s best friend was dead on the floor in a pool of their own blood. “You’re one of Them, Maximus. You’re a… a… Drinker. You’re a monster.” My voice trembled with emotion. “And you killed Travis. You killed him.”

Maximus’s gaze dropped to my left hand.

The gun. I had drawn it when I entered the hotel and forgotten I was even holding it. Taking a deep, shuddering breath I raised it up and pointed the muzzle true. For the first time my hands did not waver.

Maximus took a step back, then stopped. Went still. “Do it then. I showed you how. One shot to the head, one to the heart. Just do it, Lola. If you think I could have done this I am dead already.”

“No.” I looked at Travis. Poor, sweet, gentle Travis. His eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling. “He’s the one who is dead.” I aimed the gun dead center of Maximus’s chest. Aimed it right at his black, lying heart. This time I wouldn’t miss. This time I would hurt him, as much as he had hurt me.

“Lola, I love -”

I pulled the trigger.