Labyrinth

Chapter 2-

Labyrinth- Chapter 2

"Move and I'll kill you."

The words take a moment to bounce around in my head, kinda like tennis balls on a court, before I make a split decision; I have a boot knife.

Sure, my opponent has a pistol and all, but I have a knife, and- thankfully- I'm able to remember that I can work wonders with a knife. So if what I'm considering doing fails, I can always defend myself that way.

Here goes my quickly and rashly thought-out plan.

Wrapping one of my legs around him- I can tell from the voice that it's a dude- I whip around from the right side and jam my elbow into his stomach, managing to pull my leg back at the last second so I don't end up on top of my captor, which would be awkward.

As the person falls, he fires, and it whizzes past me maybe an inch away from my head. I can feel the heat, and I'm nearly positive it cut off a strand of my hair. As long as it doesn't cause an avalanche or something, I'll be fine.

"That's it, you asked for it," my former captor mutters gruffly, the smooth voice now rough with anger. I can tell that the guy's probably not much older than me, but he obviously wants me dead now.

Remembering a trick from fights I've had with some of the idiots at my school, I drop down on top of him, bringing up a leg to keep his arm with the gun pinned.

"Damn.." I hear him mutter. "Can you get off?"

"Are you calling a truce?" I ask, my hair practically dangling over his mouth. If he spits on it, my knife /will/ come out. There's no way I'm going to get spat on when there's no shower to wash it out. I can't see my enemy since my back is to the light and the exit, but I don't care. So long as I guarantee my safety, I'm fine.

When the boy talks next, his tone's incredulous. "TRUCE?!" he practically screams.

I nod, betting he can probably feel my head moving up and down, or see a shift in the light. "Yeah. A truce."

"Then you're really stupid, even for a girl."

Oh, so he's stooping to immature, sexist insults? The bastard. "Last time I checked, I had a rather high IQ."

"When was that?"

"Eh. I forgot. But it's recent enough that I know I'm not as stupid as you judge," I respond, my voice sarcastic and nonchalant. "Could someone as stupid as you imagine me really pin you?"

"It's only a matter of time before I slide out from under you, ya' know," he states suddenly, and I can almost feel his smirk.

But I shake my head. "I'd love to see you try."

If you could eat your words, that's what I'd be doing right now. Because just then something forces up underneath my stomach, I feel someone smack the side of my head, and I roll over to avoid being underneath him incase he flips over (similarly to a pancake).

As I roll, I grab my knife out of my boot, launch into a standing position, whirl around to defend myself against my enemy... And come face-to-face- well, almost nose-to-nose- with the greatest looking guy since my imaginary boyfriend when I was ten.

A lean, tall build stands in front of me, no longer blocked from the light outside the dirt corridor I'm in. His shoulders look a bit oversized, like he has room to grow, but I find it rather endearing and cute. And there seems to be quite a bit of muscle beneath his plain white t-shirt.

My eyes follow the t-shirt up to a still-young, angular face, with dark ginger, almost brown hair and the most amazing eyes I'd ever seen. They almost gleamed in the darkness, the iris around the pupil a bright, bluish color. It gradually faded to a hazelly-green like the color of an evergreen tree, then by the end of the iris the color had changed to caramel-brown.

However, staring like a hopeless romantic (which I happen to be) at a boy who threatened you a second ago probably isn't the best introduction.

"- help you?"

I blink my heterochromatic eyes in confusion. What just happened? I had been so focused on the amazing amazingness of his eyes, I hadn't heard him say a word. "What?" I ask, my voice slow and dazed, as though I'd just been woken up.

He smirks. "I /said/, 'Can I help you?'."

And just like that, the silly, stupid love song in my head quits playing and everything seems to come back to me. This is the kid who insulted my brain power just a second ago! I slug him across the jaw, not intending on telling him that his appearance did temporarily have me in a daze. His head whips to the side, and I know for sure that there'll be a bruise. He glares at me, and I then proceed to kicking him in the sensitive male spot. He grunts, doubling over.

Once my job is done, I straighten my black Wolverine t-shirt, turn around, and head towards the exit of the mud corridor. It's about then when I feel a bullet whiz over my head. I whip around to look at the boy, who's standing there with a smirk across his face. "Rule number one- never turn your back on the enemy," he remarks.

"So now you're willing to teach me?" I ask, sliding my dagger back into my left boot and putting my hands in the pockets of my black jeans.

He shrugs. "Why not? You're a better fighter than I thought. You won't slow me down. But you are, sure as Hell, a complete bitch. So if you promise not to be an ass towards me, I won't kill you in your sleep."

I'm beginning to think this kid's bipolar. First, he wants to kill me, then he offers to let me stay with him. Still, even if he wasn't handsome, I can tell that this guy's serious about possibly not killing me. He can fight.. Maybe even be an asset. "I might take you up on that. Name and age?"

"Since I came here to disown my family, I'll use the new name of Jake Ender, and seventeen."

"Ya' know, it didn't matter to me that you want to disown your family.." I point out.

Jake- or whatever his real name is- just shrugs. "Well, I gave out the information you asked for and extra. Be greateful. Your turn."

Without hesitation, I answer, "Marty Collins, age sixteen." I figure that since he can't be lying about his age, I won't lie about mine. I don't bother with a fake name, since there's no way I can benefit from it in here. It's not like we'll get out. Even if we did, I doubt he'd try to stalk me or something.

His expression turns surprised in a rather comical way as I give him my name. "But Marty's a guy's name!" he laughs.

"Short for something else," I respond, and that shuts 'Jake' up quicker than I thought. "So, which way are we going now?"

After what seems almost like a split decision on his part, we're both walking down the lit, cavernous hallway outside the dirt corridor, not saying a word, probably still suspicious of each other.

I think some part of me would almost rather be alone.

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