A Million Suns

8 AMY

I HAVE TO GET OUT. I HAVE TO LEAVE. NOW. I CAN’T STAY here. Not with him. Escape. Must escape. Now. NOW. But there’s nowhere to go. He crosses the threshold and is at me in two strides. Luthor draws closer to me, so close that I can feel the heat of his body burning my skin. When I suck in a lungful of air to scream, I suck in some of his exhaled breath too. Luthor reaches toward me, and the scream in my throat dies, choking me and leaving me breathless.

Luthor flips the hood away from my face. He grabs hold of my maroon head wrap, and I jerk away, my hair spilling out over my shoulders. The bookshelf behind me is an unyielding wall. Luthor slides his hand down the side of my face and grabs a fistful of my hair. He yanks it, hard, pulling me closer to him. I strain against his grip. I don’t care if he rips the hair out of my head, I am not going to let him control me. I reach behind me and grab two books from the shelf by their spines. As Luthor twines my hair around his hand, forcing me to face him, I whip out the books, slamming them on either side of his head.

“Augh!” Luthor shouts, an inhuman roar of pain. He clutches the sides of his head, a string of curse words — some I know, some I don’t — following me as I drop the books and duck under his arm.

“Come on!” I yell at Victria, who is still hiding behind the last bookcase. She steps out and I grab her wrist and drag her behind me, out of the fiction room and toward the hall.

Luthor follows quickly, but we’ve got enough of a head start that we make it to the crowded entrance hall before he reaches us. I stop when we reach the center. The message that had filled all the screens before is gone, and the floppies have returned to normal. A short woman wearing the immaculately starched dark clothing favored by the Shippers stands near the Science floppy, deep in conversation with the group that had been studying the engine schematics earlier. A few people look up, startled by our sudden entrance, but for the most part, no one notices us.

Luthor stands with both arms gripping the doorway that leads to the hall, glaring at us. He won’t do anything now. Not with everyone else here. It’s not the Season anymore; there’s no more Phydus. He doesn’t have an excuse.

Victria yanks her hand out of my grasp. “Thanks,” she mutters, the sound more like a growl.

“Hey!” Luthor’s voice echoes throughout the entrance hall. Most people turn to look at him, but Victria dips her head low and hurries for the exit, abandoning me in the center of the hall as Luthor pushes up from the door frame and heads toward me.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” Luthor shouts.

“I know I can,” I say, and I actually make it a few steps closer to the exit before he grabs me by the elbow and spins me around.

I scan the entrance hall. Everyone’s watching us. A few have drawn closer, and from the worry in their eyes, I can see that they’re on the verge of coming to my aid. Still — they hesitate. Because he’s one of them. And I’m not.

“Things are different now,” I hiss at Luthor, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “You think you can take whatever you want, but you can’t.”

I step away quickly, determined to escape this room without him laying another finger on me. His laughter rings out, a disgusting sound that sends chills down my spine. “Things are different!” he bellows after me. “We haven’t got a leader anymore!”

I spin on my heel. “Elder is leader!” My voice is high and loud; it comes out as an angry screech. I can’t help but remember the message that flashed across the floppies earlier.

Luthor snorts in contempt. “You think that boy can stop me? You think that boy can stop any of us?” He sweeps his arms wide, indicating the entire crowd of people who are now staring avidly as we scream in the middle of their usually silent hall.

“We can do anything we want,” Luthor says in a low voice only I can hear. He grins broadly and looks around him, then lifts his voice in a mighty roar, “We can do anything we want!”

I see it in the faces of the people around us.

The realization that what he’s said is true.