The three friends made their way down the dark halls, guns leveled all around. Cindy took point, James was a step behind with his gun swiveling to the doors they approached on each side, and Carl watched their rear. Each new step was illuminated by damaged fluorescent lights, nearly every bulb cracked or sporting dents from stray darts. The lights flickered on and off, threatening to push the group's simmering tension to the boiling point.

"Anything?" Jimmy whispered.

"No," Cindy answered. She threw a fist up in the air, and the boys behind her froze in place near a bend in the hallway. "Jim," she whispered while pointed at a red spot at the wall beside her.

"Carl, keep watch," he said while kneeling beside a crouching Cindy. They both studied what was obviously a blood stain. The spot was roughly an inch in diameter and badly smeared. "Look," Jimmy told Cindy while pointed near the feet. Another smudged patch of blood rested there. "Scraped elbow, maybe?"

Cindy dabbed the blood with the bottom of her shirt, and noticed a tiny drop peel off onto her clothing. "It's fresh."

Jimmy poked his around the corner and looked down another long hallway. He spotted a few more drops on the wall, heading towards another bend in the corridor. "Look like it's heading towards the library."

"Guess we found where we're heading next," Cindy said. "If someone's hurt we can take them out easy."

"Agreed," Jimmy nodded while standing back up. The trio readied their weapons and made their way around the halls. The bloodstains led their way and within moments they were at the library. A pair of double doors awaited them.

"Ironic," Cindy tried to break the tense air with a joke. "Someone's trying to avoid summer reading by holing up in the library."

Neither boy chuckled as the trio halted before the wooden doors. Carl scanned the hallways as Jimmy and Cindy each plastered their face against a door's dirty window. Complete darkness greeted them.

Jimmy's hand hovered over the doorknob; he didn't try it until Cindy offered a nod of approval. It was unlocked, and Jimmy pushed it open while taking cover against the nearby wall. Carl plastered himself beside Jimmy, and Cindy repeated James' actions with her door. No stream of bullets poured through the entryways, so they peered once more into the dark library.

This time, some of the hallway's dim light poured into the vast athenaeum. Cindy knelt down to a crouch, the boys mirrored her stance, and the three formed a horizontal line as they cautiously ventured past the doors.

"Something's not right," Jimmy whispered. He stared at the open space before him. Normally, there were a quartet of chairs to his left near a shelf of newspapers and magazines. Straight ahead there were supposed to be three circular tables. To his right normally rested two cozy beanbag chairs where he'd wasted many an early morning reading. Yet at that moment, all of the furniture was gone. There was only an empty space, fifteen feet square, lying before the shelves of books that flanked the computer tables. Most curiously, there were a pair of bookshelves flanking the double doors.

Carl was halfway through his next step forward into the wide open territory when he felt pressure against his foot. He peered down just in time to see a stretch of fishing line go taut against his stride. After that, everything happened at once.

"Tripwire!" Jimmy roared while following Carl's gaze.

The line broke and the lights flashed on.

Blinded by the intense fluorescence, Jimmy barely saw an AccuStrike dart slamming into Carl's chest.

Cindy spun around to lead the group out of the trap, but the two bookcases tumbled down, completely sealing them in.

For a split second, James and Cindy shared a terrified glance as Carl crumpled to the floor. The single breath they had to spare lasted an eternity as they stared into terrified eyes, then glanced at the center of the library. From every angle, they could spot blue and orange guns moving into place.

"Cover!" Cindy roared. Jimmy was about to protest that there was none, but Cindy grabbed his arm and yanked him down behind Carl's plump form. She crammed against the right of his back as James huddled to her left.

Innumerable pops and whistling darts filled the library as Jimmy and Cindy made themselves as small as possible. Streams of orange and blue round slammed into their friend. Each caused an agonizing cry of "Scapula!" as they inexplicably homed in on his shoulder.

Between haggard breaths, Jimmy tossed aside his unwieldy Lawbringer and yanked out his trusted revolver. He cocked the hammer and blind-fired rounds over Carl's flank. "We need to move!"

"No!" Cindy started shooting as Jimmy plucked darts from Carl's bandolier to reload. She leaned back and studied the streams of darts as they spiraled into the sobbing Carl. "Automatic in the middle, slow streams left and right, semi-auto in between."

Jimmy nodded. "Five enemies. Stationary heavy gun in the middle, flanked by rifles, in turn bounded by snipers."

Cindy and Jimmy tucked themselves still tighter as Carl loudly pondered why was this happening to him. "Wait for a break in the auto fire," Cindy ordered over Carl's pleas for divine intervention. "Then blind-cover me to the right. I'll pick off my end's sniper."

Five seconds later the rapid stream of darts pounding Carl's scapula ceased. Jimmy fanned his revolver's hammer and let loose a barrage of rounds to his right. Cindy peeked out the side, aimed down her Retaliator's scope, and spotted the red Centurion lying across a computer table. She locked onto the mound of red hair behind it and launched a dart straight into the middle of Emily's thin face.

"One down!" Cindy triumphantly roared as her classmate crumpled to the floor. She pumped the forward grip and readied another dart.

As Jimmy grabbed more rounds from Carl's vest, a high-pitched debonair voice shouted, "Cease fire!" As Cindy contemplated using the break to search for another target, the unseen voice shouted, "Is that Jimmy out there?"

Cindy's teeth instinctively clenched as she recognized the voice. "Quinlan?"

Across the library, Betty's face was hidden behind the double drum barrels of her Rhino-Fire machine gun. She frowned at Emily's crumpled form, then stared at her three remaining comrades. Two were Reg and Jeff, fourth-graders she had never spoken to before undertaking this quest for The Prize. The only one who mattered was the raven-haired boy beside her. Nick Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her stare.

"We need to replace Emily," Betty explained.

Nick took a moment, then nodded in agreement. "When we're the last ones, we can take him out easy."

Betty stared back down her sights at the tear-stricken boy shielding his friends. She tried to get a shot at Jimmy and Cindy behind him, but couldn't angle her gun over his rapidly purpling skin. "Well?" she shouted at her hiding targets.

Back behind Carl, Jimmy shouted, "Yeah, I'm here!" Cindy shot him a venomous glare, but he simply shrugged.

"You took out Emily," Betty calmly explained. "We need a substitute. You should join us, Jim." Though Betty hated what she was doing, though she never had wanted to be this type of girl, the allure of The Prize was too strong. She shifted the pitch of her voice, tried to sound helpless yet enticing, and purred, "We were always supposed to be together, don't you think?"

Jimmy turned to Cindy, whose rage was rapidly giving way to dismay. James expected to find a rifle raised to his chest, but saw nothing. She was simply paralyzed and broken.

Jimmy stared down at her empty hand on the library's carpet. He clasped it and assured her, "I'm with you." Cindy swallowed hard and squeezed his hand with her thumb. Before she could say anything more, Jimmy shouted, "Not a chance, Betty!"

A moment's silence filled the library; even Carl had respectfully buried his wailing face into the carpet to give his brother a chance to assuage Cindy's concerns. At last Betty's furious voice spat, "Then take them down!"

"I'll get 'em!" Nick roared while vaulting over a flipped-over computer table. He readied his Delta Trooper, and Jeff followed with an Alphahawk slammed against his shoulder.

"I'll pin 'em down!" Betty roared. It didn't matter a lick if her targets heard her, they had nowhere to go and no tricks left to pull with with the Rhino aimed at them. "Reg will pop a dart in their eye if they move an inch. Finish them!"

Cindy stared into Jimmy's cerulean eyes. She was shocked to find not an ounce of worry in them. "Dying in a blaze of glory in the library while hiding behind Carl's body." She nervously chuckled and asked, 'Who'd have thought?"

"I can think of worse ways to go," Jimmy said while cocking his Hammershot. "Ready?"

"Always," Cindy squeezed his hand one final time, grabbed her rifle tight, and prepared to peek over Carl's flank. Just before she could pop out of cover, the sound of breaking glass rang out behind them.

Jimmy and Cindy swung around to find both of the doors' windows being shattered. A black buzz cut flashed by one aperture before an enormous red barrel poked through. Jimmy watched in awe as a Mega dart raced through the air and slammed into Nick's windpipe. He dropped his rifle, clasped both hands to his seizing throat, and crumpled to the floor.

A flash of black braids swam by the other window before the barrel of a N-Strike Raider let loose a stream of darts at the exposed Jeff. "Guys, move!" Libby's unmistakable voice screamed.

Jimmy and Cindy wasted no time. They burst out from Carl's cover and sprinted across opposite ends of the library. Jimmy swung left and managed to dive behind the overturned table separating him and Reg. He swiveled his Hammershot at Betty's face, forced himself to ignore its raw symmetrical beauty, and unleashed six shots. They bounced off the machine gun's drum magazines as she swiveled the gun towards him.

Cindy dashed straight towards Jeff, who lay prone on the ground. Libby ceased her fire right as Cindy stormed him. Jeff had just started to regain his footing when Cindy fired a trio of darts at his chest. The boy dropped his Alphahawk, which Cindy greedily snatched while tossing aside the Retaliator. She ensured the bolt was cycled, dropped to one knee, and shot a dart straight at Betty as she swiveled the Rhino towards James.

The dart bounced off of Betty's temple, and she collapsed to floor in a combination of shock and rage.

"Damn it!" Betty seethed while smashing both fists onto the floor. She continued to loudly curse her fate, but Cindy paid her no mind. She cycled the bolt and aimed her rifle at the last member of Betty's crew. The terrified boy glanced at the double doors and found Sheen and Libby finally able to force their way in. Sheen dropped to a crouch, leveled his Centurion over his crossed left arm, and steadied his aim. Libby marched forward, staring at the boy over her Raider's barrel. James rose from behind the table and leveled his Hammershot at the child's chest.

"Well?" Cindy asked between haggard breaths. As she crossed the library's open space, she asked, "Any last words?"

"Please," the boy pleaded while dropping his Longshot. "I-I su-surrender," he stammered as the gang closed in on him. "I need the prize!" he begged while dropping to his knees. "I can't do summer reading! I hate it!"

Cindy threw her rifle onto the ground and yanked the Doubleshot from her sock. She cocked the hammer, leveled the pistol at Reg's head, and growled, "Tell that to Carl."

"Please," the child begged.

Without hesitation, Cindy pulled the trigger.

The sobbing fourth-grader tumbled to the ground, and Cindy reloaded the spent darts back into the Doublestrike. She tucked the gun back into her sock and spun around, eager to welcome her sister and even Sheen back to the group. But she was distracted by a huffing Betty storming towards her.

"Do you know how long this trap took to make?" Betty roared. "We spent hours reading how to make a trip-wire. We had to read to avoid summer reading!"

Jimmy, having crossed the library to meet up with Sheen, knelt down beside the broken tripwire. "That took you hours?"

Cindy simply crossed her arms as a vessel burst in Betty's eye. "We deserved that prize!"

Nick rose to his feet and left his Delta Trooper on the ground. "Betty, chill. There's worse ways to spend summer than working on a book report together." He smirked at Neutron and extended his hand. "Good game, dude."

Jimmy was shocked by this display of sportsmanship; such events had grown sparser and sparser over the course of the night. He gripped Nick's palm and gave it a hearty shake. "Same here. You laid a decent ambush."

Nick whistled and twirled his index finger in the air. "Come on guys, let's get some sleep. We're all meeting for breakfast bright and early tomorrow." He placed one palm along Betty's back and gently led the cursing girl towards the double doors. "Good luck, Neutron. Candy Bar in the morning?"

"You bet," Jimmy nodded. "Didn't think we'd share another malt so soon," he mused while approaching Carl. Jimmy's good mood was shattered as he knelt by his motionless friend. "Carl," James whispered while setting a hand on his friend's diffusely bruised skin, "You saved us."

"Jim?" Carl mumbled while staring up at the bright lights above. He swallowed hard and grasped towards the heavens. "I thought I…I thought I heard Sheen."

"I'm right here," Sheen, screeched while sliding towards Carl's side. He clenched Carl's thrashing palm. "I loved you like a brother," Sheen bemoaned Carl's fate with tears in his eyes. "Go forth and conquer the afterlife, you stallion of Lindbergh!"

"Libby!" Carl croaked through dying gasps. "Oh Libby are you there?!"

"I'm here," Libby groaned while dropping her rifle and kneeling at Carl's side.

"I want you to know," Carl spat through spasming coughs, "that I always…I always…I always was a better dancer than you."

Libby growled, "It was a kick, slide, pivot, pivot!"

"It was a kick, pivot, slide and you know it!" Carl shot back.

"You're not even dying, you little twerp!" Libby angrily poked Carl's side.

"Am too!" Carl shot back while jumping to his feet.

"Guys, enough!" Jimmy tried to separate his feuding friends. "We need to focus on winning this thing!" Everyone fell silent, so he placed a tender hand on Carl's scapula. "I'm sorry you won't be part of it."

"That's alright," Carl easily agreed while slipping out of the bandolier and handing it to Sheen. "I was getting tired anyway." He began untaping the pistols attached to his chest and back. "I'm going to ice my bruises and watch Good Llamas Gone Bad. Give 'em heck, guys."

Everyone thanked Carl and bid him a fond farewell, then fell silent as he left the library. "We just got him back," Jimmy whispered.

Cindy nodded and stared around the room. "Well let's win this for him, then." She offered Libby a warm smile. "It's great to see you guys." Libby reached out and grabbed Cindy's hand, which she readily squeezed. Cindy wished there was more time, but they didn't have a moment to waste. "Jim, watch the double doors. Sheen and Libby? Help me grab whatever guns and ammo we need."

"Where do we go next, though?" Libby inquired.

"Can we stop by the cafeteria? I'm ravenous!" Sheen begged.

Cindy felt herself sliding into old habits as her face contorted into a scowl, but she pulled back before she could raise her voice. "Actually, we've never gotten around to that part of the school. You guys haven't either?" Libby and Sheen shook their heads, so Cindy turned to James. "It's as good as other any place to keep up the hunt."

"Its even better," James said with a half-smile. "It's got food." His grin came and went, for a quick glance at his watch revealed it was 10:50. "Seventy minutes left."

No more motivation was necessary to thrust the kids into action. Jimmy ensured his Hammerfire was cocked and headed over to the library's exit. He plastered himself against the right door and peered through the broken window. Cindy scooped her kitted Retaliator back up and handed Sheen the Alphahawk. He slung the Centurion's strap over his shoulder, plucked a laser sight off one of Carl's dropped pistols, and fixed it to his Alphahawk's tactical rail. Satisfied with his battle-rifle, he clambered over the flipped-over computer tables and ran his hands over the pristine Rhino-Fire.

"Libs?" He simply asked. He turned to his girlfriend, who was practically drooling at the machine gun.

"Too big to carry," audible heartbreak answered Sheen.

Sheen settled for snatching a few spare clips lying about the floor, but his hand froze as he caught site of a black cylindrical tube the size of his fist. "Sweet Robofiend's ghost," Sheen mumbled as he studied the orange strike lever and metal safety pin.

"Guys!" Jimmy's voice filled the library. "Let's move out; we're running of time."

Sheen scooped up the grenade raced after his friends into the halls.

The unending blackness of Lindbergh's cafeteria was pierced by a thin slice of red light. Taking point, Sheen crouched down and penetrated the dead lunchroom stride by measured stride. He dodged overturned tables and stepped over stray cans. All the while he swiveled his DMR back and forth, aiming the light all around.

"Clear so far," he did little more than mouth the words.

Behind him, the group moved low and fast. This was the most dangerous part of any mission; clearing a new, open, and dark room. Goosebumps ran down every arm and hairs stood erect on each neck as the four children kept their eyes open for hostiles and any cover to duck behind if firing erupted.

This time, however, no darts launched their way and no targets revealed themselves.

"Cafeteria clear," Cindy spoke freely. She flipped the light-switch at the back of the room. This earned the same dismal result as when they'd tried the one near the entrance.

Cindy's eyes had long grown accustomed to darkness. She turned to Libby and Jimmy, who were fruitlessly searching amongst the wreckage for ammo or food. "Jim? Falcon?" she asked with a smile. Libby greeted her with a smirk, and Cindy asked, "Can you block the doors? Sheen and I will check the kitchen for food and survivors."

"Sure thing," Libby promised while leading Jimmy back the way they'd come.

"Come on, Eagle," Cindy told Sheen while heading towards the swinging door that separate the kitchen from the cafeteria. Sheen silently followed suit, and they lined up on opposite sides of the door. "Ready?"

"Do it," Sheen nodded. Cindy kicked open the door and Sheen burst through in a crouch. He swiveled his laser sight all around, but no targets greeted him. "Clear," he mumbled while stepping forward.

Cindy followed and kept her stock pressed firm against her shoulder. She stared down the Retaliator's barrel, but nothing but long-abandoned chaos greeted her. She flipped the switch by the door and was surprised to be greeted by normal fluorescence.

She squinted her eyes against the bright light and watched Sheen's own gaze tear up. "Weird," the normally spastic boy calmly uttered while studying the room. Wire shelves normally full of canned goods lay battered and overturned. Their dented contents were strewn about the floor. The enormous stainless steel prep table in the center of the room was dented in the middle, and the fridge was overturned only a few feet from the door. "How come nobody made this a stronghold?"

"Maybe they did," Cindy shot back. She hopped over the fridge, knelt down, and realized it was good cover against any intruders who would storm through the door. "But one thing I've learned tonight is no plan or bastion lasts."

"Guess you're right," Sheen agreed while picking up a can of ready-to-eat pasta. "Our first plan was to find you guys."

Cindy rose to her feet and met Sheen's gaze; surprising solemnity brimmed in his eyes. "That was ours too."

The two shared a rare smile, and Cindy pointed at the can in his grasp. "Grab three more and bring 'em to the others. I'll find a can opener and be right behind you."

Sheen did as was told and was gone in a flash. Cindy had thought she'd be right behind him, but rifling through drawers and scanning the mess of bowls and utensils cluttering the floor failed to yield a can opener.

"We don't have time for this," she settled on scooping a dull knife off the floor and grabbing a jumble of spoons and forks off the prep table. She angrily kicked the overturned fridge separating her from the cafeteria. The refrigerator's door bounced open from the blow. Cindy's eyes widened as instead of spoiled food, a trickle of darts flowed out.

Cindy knelt down and dropped the utensils. She opened the fridge and found inside a small cache of clips and spare darts. Atop the pile of rounds was a Stryfe auto blaster. She grabbed the grey grip and studied the rifle. It was alluring, but she'd long ago learned that electronic blasters were a harsh siren call. If your battery died in battle...Cindy shook her head at the thought. She put the gun back and settled on scooping a few magazines into her pockets, but froze once she spotted a large Post-it taped to the back of the fridge. She plucked it free and struggled to read the tiny cursive print.

C,

Don't know if you'll find this, or even if you'll know it's for you.

But want you to know I regret never telling you how I feel.

It would have made my time at Lindbergh so much better.

I've looked all over for you. The only place left is The Graveyard.

If I don't find you there, there's no point fighting anymore.

I'll just wait by The River, hoping that one day you'll find me.

Unknowingly Yours,

A

Cindy stared at the note and was surprised to feel a pang of sadness for its mystery author. She'd been lucky to be by James' side when Willoughby had made the announcement. This thought sent her reeling back. She studied the note and wondered, was her affection for James the same as the author's adoration for "C"?

"No time for that," Cindy shook the constantly simmering question of her feelings' for James out of her head. She put the note back in place, scooped up the utensils, hung her rifle by her side, and rejoined her friends in the cafeteria. They were huddled on the ground near the barricaded doors; she took a seat beside them.

"Any luck?" Libby asked while offering a can. Cindy nodded, dropped her gun, and accepted the food. She slit the top open with her knife, then passed the blade and utensils around.

"So where to next?" Libby asked while slicing open her can and devouring its contents. Everyone shared in her haste; the one hour mark was encroaching fast.

"No idea," Jimmy admitted. "I think we'll find people wherever we go."

Cindy forced another bite of cold pasta into her mouth and swallowed fast before the taste hit her tongue. "Have you guys," she turned to Sheen and Libby, "heard of a place called The River? Or the Graveyard?"

Sheen and Libby both reflexively shuddered. "How have you not?" Sheen shrieked. He turned to Jimmy for support, but the genius simply shrugged.

Libby and Sheen shared a disdainful glance. Libby asked Cindy, "Where have you two been all day?"

"In the vents, mostly," Cindy shot back.

"Maybe that's why you don't have nicknames," Sheen muttered.

Cindy glared at the boy and repeated, "So what are they?"

Libby set her can down and explained, "We've heard that the basement is way more messed up than the rest of the school. Apparently the power's completely out and the water pipes burst. The River's, well," Libby shrugged, "it's a river from one of the broken pipes. Kids head there to drink. Since there's no other source of water, it's neutral ground. No guns allowed."

Jimmy let out an incredulous scoff. "Why don't they just come upstairs?"

"Because they can't!" Sheen shrieked back. "The Graveyard's blocking the only way in or out!"

"And what the heck's The Graveyard?" Cindy bristled at his tone.

"Legend has it," Sheen deviously began to regale the group, "that a whole class of kindergarteners was slaughtered down there. Twenty-five kids mowed down when they didn't have so much as a Jolt pistol on them. They say you can still hear the ghosts moaning, wondering to the heavens why they were condemned to such a cursed fate."

As Jimmy prepared to poke several holes in this illogical tale, Cindy jumped to her feet. "Wait!" she snapped, sending three concerned stares her way. "If the power's out, would the intercom work?"

It only took a second for Jimmy to understand her question. He dropped his pasta to the floor and felt tomato sauce splatter his jeans. "They don't know about the deadline."

"Wait, what?" Libby frantically asked. She and Sheen joined the others on their feet.

"If the power's out," Cindy clarified, "everyone in that basement missed Willoughby's last announcement. Which means they don't know we only have an hour left. And if they're not coming upstairs -"

Jimmy chimed in, "Then the only way to win The Prize is to go down there and take out every one of them."

Sheen's face fell and he stuttered, "We-we're going in The Gra-Graveyard?"

Libby mirrored Sheen's expression as she asked, "And breaking The River's truce?"

Cindy ensured her Retaliator was primed and laid her finger over the trigger. "If anyone is going to win The Prize, not even our group but anyone at all, we have to."

"So we have to massacre them to save them?" Libby asked over crossed arms.

"Yes," Cindy agreed. Cindy turned to Jimmy, who clearly shared Libby's concerns. "We've come this far," Cindy explained. "We don't have time for anything else."

Jimmy stared at his watch and noted the numbers creeping towards eleven o'clock. He grit his teeth, weighed his options, and solemnly agreed with Cindy. "She's right. There's no time to gather everyone down there, make an announcement, and figure out a more honorable solution. We have to push through the basement and wipe them out."

Sheen gulped but grabbed his Alphahawk and made sure the bolt was cycled. He nodded at Libby, who reluctantly readied her Raider. "Fine," she muttered. "Let's do it."

The four kids yanked away their hastily constructed barricade, let Cindy take point, and followed her back into the flickering lights of the halls.