Nightmare Academy (26 page)

He doubled over, pain coursing
through every organ in his body

Elisha grabbed Alex's arm and yanked him angrily “You leave him alone!”

He turned and grabbed her right back. “So you want in on this, too?”

Elisha struggled, pulling and kicking.

“Hey,” said Ramon, “come on, Alex! Show some class, man!”

“I'll show you something, all right!” Alex grinned.

Elisha brought her heel down on his instep like a thirty-pound spike. That loosened his grip just a little. It was enough. She slipped free. He grabbed for her again.

WHAM!
His head cracked against a speeding wall from out of nowhere. “Sally” fell away to the ground as he reeled, staggered, looked around, the earth quaking under his feet. Another blow, this one to his stomach, like being hit with a flying manhole cover. Having gotten Alex's attention, Elijah planted himself between Alex and his sister. “Now, can we please stop this?”

Alex roared like a grizzly and charged, bowling him over like a sapling under a truck tire. They rolled, they punched, they kicked and gouged. Somehow they got on their feet again, fist hitting flesh, arms blocking punches, legs kicking, tripping, blocking. They were surrounded by a circle of screaming, cheering, crying kids—some watching out of sick enjoyment, some watching in alarm, hoping it would end.

Elisha fell back to watch. She'd trained and sparred with Elijah from their preteens, and now she could see where this fight was going—right where Elijah wanted it to go. He was fighting defensively, evading, ducking, blocking, saving his strength, getting in a kick or punch just to keep Alex angry, making Alex put out all the effort, and it was working. Alex was huge and lumbering, with more temper than good sense, and he was getting tired. He was slowing down, getting rubber-legged, losing accuracy in his attack. Elijah kept backing, feinting, ducking, jabbing, leading Alex around inside that circle until the would-be king was ready.

The moment came. Elijah blocked a punch. It was a bad punch, poorly aimed. The big guy wasn't seeing straight. Elijah stayed open, inviting another blow. He could see it coming a year before it arrived, and ducked it. Okay. Time to fell the tree, and none too soon.

Elijah spun and threw a high kick right across Alex's jaw. Alex went down, stunned and exhausted, blood dripping from his mouth. Brett, his second-in-command, knelt down to comfort him and persuade him not to continue.

Around the circle, there was a strange, mixed reaction. Many just stared at their fallen king, at a loss, like fans who'd lost a bet. Some kids, like Ramon,
almost
cheered for Elijah, but now they were suspicious of him, still wondering if he was the snitch. Britney, Madonna, and Cher cheered loudly. They didn't care.

“Don't cheer!” Elijah ordered, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Look at us! You think this is anything to cheer about?” He was staggering a little. His nose was bleeding. His burgundy blazer would never be the same. “Just because I win a stupid brawl doesn't make me a better man!” He looked down at Alex, who glared at him through puffy eyes. “No more than you beating me up makes you a king!” He looked at all their faces, hoping to see some shame. “Might doesn't make right, can't you see that? Is this the kind of world you want? War, and stealing, and beating people up? It's stupid! It's not the way to—”

Everyone's attention shifted to the sound of running feet, the sight of adults coming their way: Fitzhugh, Bateman, Johnson, Chisholm, on the run, coming to restore order and looking mad enough to make it hurt.

Ramon took off. Britney, Madonna, and Cher never moved so fast. The circle of kids dissolved like a snowflake in water.

“What's going on here?” Chisholm demanded.

He stopped short, shocked at the sight of Alex on the ground with Brett cradling his head.

“Horrors!” said Ms. Fitzhugh, covering her mouth with both hands as if she would vomit.

Alex was still lucid enough to be sly. He went limp, moaning in pain, holding his stomach.

Brett reported with a dark, feigned sincerity, indicating Elijah, “He tried to take over. Didn't like Alex's leadership, so . . . he attacked him—when he wasn't looking.”

Elijah wilted, so disappointed. “Ah, Brett,
come on."

Elisha was by her brother's side. “That's not the way it was! Jerry was protecting me.”

Ms. Fitzhugh nodded her head as if she really understood what had happened, eyeing Elijah with disdain. “Oh. So it's all over a girl! Of course. A young stallion kicking another over his mare.”

Alex managed to speak. “I was just talking to her. I don't know what he had to get so upset about.”

Elijah sighed. “Does anyone want to know the truth?”

Chisholm stepped forward, grabbing Elijah's arm. “We've seen plenty, young man. Come on.”

“Hey!”

“No!” Elisha cried. “What are you doing? You've got it all wrong!”

Now Bateman and Johnson moved in, surrounding Elijah, forcing him along. “This campus has had enough trouble. It's time to clean house.”

Elijah, still hoping to find an ounce of reason in any of these people, spoke calmly, “You're making a mistake. If you'll just let me explain my side of it . . .”

Elisha grabbed Mr. Johnson's arm. “Will you listen to me? He's innocent! He was defending himself! He was defending me!”

Johnson sneered at that. “Right. It
looks
like it.”

Ms. Fitzhugh grabbed Elisha by the arm and held her back. “And you, young lady, are going to your room and staying there.”

“What are you doing?” she cried, watching them take Elijah away like a prisoner. “Where are you taking him?”

She heard an ominous clanking of steel, and then, as if by itself, like the jaws of a patient, sinister monster, the big iron gate began to swing open.

“Will you listen to me? He's innocent!
He was defending himself!
He was defending me!”

A searing pang of fear coursed through Elisha like deadly voltage. She knew, she just
knew
that something horrible lay beyond that gate. “NOOO!”

She broke free from Ms. Fitzhugh's grasp and ran after her brother. “No, no, don't take him! He didn't do anything!”

Johnson turned back and blocked her path. He grabbed her, held her. She broke his grip, got around him. He grabbed her by her blazer and held on even as she kicked him, slapped at him, tried to get away.

Ms. Fitzhugh caught up and also took hold of her. “That's quite enough, young lady!”

Bateman and Chisholm took Elijah through the gate and the big iron jaw began to swing shut with a low, electric hum.

With one last twist of judo, one final kick to a shin, Elisha broke away from Fitzhugh and Johnson and ran for what opening remained. “Jerry!”

Through the bars of the swinging gate, Elijah, being hurried along by his two captors, looked over his shoulder and called, “I'll be all right.” Then he mouthed the words, “You go! Go!” as he nodded toward the unseen road.

The heavy, electronic latch clanged into place the instant Elisha reached it and she fell against the iron bars, gripping them, wishing, praying she could pass through. “Take me! Don't take him, take me!” The bars were cold, cruel, immovable. The gate didn't even rattle when she tugged at it.

The two men were hurrying, nearly dragging Elijah up the long walkway He looked over his shoulder one last time to give her a reassuring look, to let his eyes say, “I'll be okay,” and then, like a curtain closing on the final act, the limbs of overhanging trees closed over the sight of him and he was gone.

As Fitzhugh and Johnson hemmed her in against the bars, she reached through as if she could grab her brother and pull him back, any pretending banished by her anguish. “Elijah!”

They grabbed her, tightly Weakened by despair and sorrow, she let them take her away.

11

THE MANSION AND
THE MONSTER

E
LIJAH COULDN'T HELP BUT B E EASC1NATED, looking up at the towering white facade of the mansion as Mr.

Bateman and Mr. Chisholm led him down a concrete stairway and through an imposing, oversized basement door. When the metal door clanged shut behind them, a deep rumble rolled up and down the tight, dimly lit hallway like an echo in a mine tunnel. They were deep beneath the mansion now, and Elijah could sense the weight of rock, concrete, and the multistory structure stacked above him.

This was no ordinary hallway. It seemed to Elijah they were in the heart of a huge machine. Thick clusters of electrical wire ran along the ceiling; waterlines, gas lines, air lines, hydraulic lines, and tubing of unknown purpose ran along the base of the walls on both sides. There was a low, electrical hum ringing in the walls. He could hear compressed air moving, water running, fluid surging. “Wow,” he said. “What do you guys do down here, anyway?”

They didn't answer, but took him through a doorway into a small bedroom, a slightly nice prison cell. They pushed him down so that he sat on the narrow bed, then let go. “Stay here until we come for you,” said Chisholm. He pointed to another doorway at one end of the room. “The bathroom's through there.”