Never Too Young To Die
Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider
A/N: Hey! This is my first ever fic, so please review!
My footsteps echo in the deserted corridor, sounding like the rapid fire of a machine gun. I glance over my shoulder. They're still there. I see one of them pulling a gun from his belt and hear the sound of a gunshot. I duck instinctively. A bullet smashes into the wall in front of me, missing me by centimetres. The school isn't going to be happy about this.
I duck around a corner and dart into a classroom, pressing myself against the wall. They sprint past me, and I close my eyes in relief. That is, until I smell the smoke. I peer cautiously around the door and gasp involuntarily. Smoke is pouring out of the classroom next door. For a moment I wonder how it spread so fast, but then I remember that the room next door is a storage room, filled with highly flammable chemicals. It's only a matter of time before something explodes, setting off a chain reaction. The fire could easily spread to the rest of the school. I think of the students and teachers gathered in the hall, completely unaware of the danger I'm in, and the flames licking at the walls. I have to warn them.
The smoke begins to seep under the door, and I know I have to get out. I tilt my head to the side, listening for the gunmen. It would be stupid to escape death only to be killed by a bullet. When I hear nothing but the crackle of flames, I slip into the hallway. I sprint past the storage room, but as I reach the corridor, I hear the inevitable sound of an explosion, followed by several smaller ones. Small pieces of plaster rain down from the ceiling. They seem to fall in slow motion, and then there is a surge of heat from the other end of the hallway. The subsequent boom in unbelievably loud and the impact of the explosion throws me into the wall. I pick myself up, my ears ringing. It was loud, but I still don't think that the people in the hall would have heard it.
My footsteps are slightly unsteady as I run, and the world seems to tilt and spin. I round the corner and come face to face with one of the masked men. Or women, in this case. I skid to a stop and we stand frozen, nose to nose, for several seconds. The stillness is broken when I come to my senses and try to duck around her. She grabs my arm and twists it behind me. I feel her press something cold to the small of my back and know instinctively what it is. There's something about the touch of a gun that's unmistakable. It's not just the coldness of the metal; it's the feeling of someone holding your life in their hands. I slowly raise my free hand in submission, and then turn and hammer my foot into her stomach. It has the power of desperation behind it, and she actually leaves the ground, flying backwards several metres. I dive into a nearby stairwell as she reaches for her gun. I spray of bullets slam into the wall above me. I roll to my feet and leap down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
The smell of smoke is stronger now. I pick up the pace. Out of the corner of my eye I see a fire alarm, so I change course and veer towards it. As I get closer though, I see cut wires dangling from it. I stop abruptly and swear. They're damn good, I'll give them that. I hear a shout and turn back to see a masked figure moving towards me. They don't have a gun, but it won't be long before someone arrives who does. I kick open a window and jump outside, rolling to absorb the impact of a second-story fall. All I can say is I'm bloody glad I landed on a bush. I'm covered in scratches and bruised all over, but nothing's broken. I get to my feet and keep running, trying to ignore the fact that I'm limping. I cannot believe how long it takes to run from one side of a medium-sized high school to another. It's completely ridiculous.
I see the huge double doors of the hall. I'm so happy I would hug them if I wasn't running for my life. I throw them open and race inside, expecting to see rows of bored students ignoring the principle, who would be droning on about behaviour or something. Instead I stumble to a stop in a room that's completely deserted. I look around in confusion. Maybe they did hear the explosions, but…something doesn't feel right. I hear a click from behind me that echoes around the deserted hall. A feeling of dread settles into the pit of my stomach and I turn around slowly. Seven dark-clothed figures stand in a semi-circle around me, each of them holding a gun. All of which are trained on me. I swear silently and raise my hands. Damn MI6.
I'm fourteen, and my name is Alex Rider. And if there's one thing I've learnt during my relatively short life, it's that you're never too young to die.