Runaway

Chapter 17

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~Uploaded April 14th, 2014

I didn't scream. I didn't make a sound as I rolled off the chair to the patio and flattened myself to the ground, a million thoughts racing through my head.

How did they find me? No one in Springfield knew where I was going. Heck, even I didn't know at the time. Only Zach and Jonathan knew I was leaving when I did.

Okay, breathe, Dani. Take a deep breath and think. First, you have to get out of here.

I was ten feet away from the patio door leading back into the inn. I could make it if I was quick. The blood was pumping so hard in my head I could barely think. I relied on instinct and training to turn myself around, still flattened to the patio, and push myself up into a push-up while using the chair as cover. My legs up in a runner's start, I was about to bolt when I heard another gunshot. I frowned then.

That wasn't a real gunshot. The sound was quieter and shorter in a way, and it didn't echo. All of the guns I knew of always echoed after being fired. The gun fired again and I saw something red splatter against the inn's outside wall and slowly drip down.

Blood?, I thought in a panic. Then I took a closer look; the consistency was different and the red was much too bright. No, not blood. Paint. Someone was firing another damned paintball gun. I sighed heavily and my heart rate slowly returned to normal.

"Dude! Do you think we hit her?", a new male voice called out. I snapped my head in the direction but stayed down. I wasn't sure if they were a threat yet.

"If you hit an unarmed girl, that's on your head, Luke!", another male called out.

"Yeah, yeah", someone who I guessed to be Luke said back. "Excuse me? Anyone there? I'm sorry if we hit you." Slowly, I stood up from behind the chair.

Three teenage boys, about my age, stood at the edge of the property bordering the woods, all holding the biggest and most badass paintball guns I had ever seen in my life. One with black hair, the others' being chestnut brown.

"Hi", the black-haired one spoke from across the yard. "We didn't hit you, did we?" He narrowed his concerned eyes as he and his friends approached. I stayed where I was, but was ready to leap over the railing and hide if needed.

"No, you didn't." I kept my tone light while carefully reaching my hand behind my back to my holstered gun. Just in case, I reassured myself. "You caught me by surprise, but you didn't hit me. Thankfully. Those things hurt." If I really thought about it, I could still feel the sting of a paintball when it caught me on my neck. It was the one part of me that had accidentally been exposed under the protective gear the last time I had gone full-out with paintball. That welt stayed on my neck for two whole weeks and annoyed me every single day it lasted.

"Ouch. You've been hit by one before?", Black-Haired Boy asked, still walking closer.

"A couple of times. Are you guys part of one of the paintball teams?" What else could explain them running around with those things? I'm pretty sure they couldn't paint a house like that. Unless, that is, someone wanted their home painted like a Jackson Pollock.

"How'd you guess?", one of the brunettes asked. He was tall and as thin as a beanpole. I had no idea how he could even lift the gun.

"I'm on the other paintball team. You know, the one with the McCades?" I assumed they knew who I was talking about.

"Oh, sure. With Dylan and his sister Andie, right?" I nodded. "Yeah, we know them. Hey, aren't you the new girl who moved into town a couple of days ago?"