The Never Minds

The Soldier III

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Eric moved stealthily through the crowds, clutching his phone and his columnar tighter to his chest. He kept a safe distance between himself and the library walls in fear of the exchange of bullets happening inside. He wondered how his roommate was doing there. Had he been shot? Did he turn into a killer?

As he turned to the alley where the side entrance was, he spotted an unfamiliar person walking towards him. A girl with dark elbow-length curls sported a tank top and shorts, under a lacy blue vest and an elegant sidebag. She stopped in front of him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

How does it feel like when a stranger asks you where you're going? Eric's mind was blank. She was around his age, fifteen or fourteen maybe, but her innocent orange eyes suggested she was even younger. He hesitated before replying, "Umm . . . are you lost?"

She struck a pose by placing a hand on her hip. "I asked you the question first. My parents are shooting down some terrorists there, and I'm bored as hell. You're from here, aren't you?"

Her parents were police officers? "Well, in a way . . ."

"Don't tell me you're going in there," she said, jerking her head towards the building.

"I think I am. Well, I hope I don't have to. I mean―"

A small smile flitted between her lips. "Trying to be noble?"

As the course of this conversation with a stranger had taken a darker turn, Eric gripped his columnar tighter. This girl had obviously struck gold.

"I can help you with that," she grinned mischievously. Her fingers spun and produced a phone, casually hidden within her hand. "I have connections."

"I don't even know you."

She rolled her eyes. "Kylie Benedict. The detectives' daughter. And I'm bored as hell, that's why I'm helping you."

"How do you know I'm not a terrorist?" Eric challenged. "The kids holding other kids hostage are my classmates, you know."

"'Coz you're carrying that thing," she said, pointing to the columnar. "And your face says it all. I know an innocent when I see one. Now, do you want me to help you or not?"

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"I knew those Trainees would fail at one point."

The detective man had told them that the terrorists/fraternity/cult had occupied the third floor where some of the original texts were found. Which probably left the second-floor fire exit hopefully unguarded. The detectives and their team would cause a distraction, while she and Rachel would slip out unnoticed.

'Oh and don't worry, we'll be using a lot of dust bombs and blank bullets to intimidate them. We don't want blood on our hands, do we? And if the youngsters fight back, well . . .  we'll deal with them soon enough. But we won't kill them. Yet.'

That was the plan.

Hailey wondered where things came out wrong.

The second floor was where the college and senior-year students usually worked. It consisted of rows upon rows of regularly-spaced bookshelves, beanbags in one corner, couches in another, and a cluster of long tables in the middle. The fire exit was at the farthest wall.

The floor had appeared deserted when she and Rachel approached. Therefore, they did not expect someone to be waiting for them at their destination.