Chapter 16
Author's Note: If you're an original reader and just received notification of a new chapter, welcome back! I've been spending this year rewriting content and posting the new chapters to AO3, waiting until I caught up to the chapter numbers on FF before I started replacing. This version will likely go to 18 chapters plus an epilogue.
Within this version of the rewrite I added a ton of new content, twists, and scenes but kept a lot of the original story the same. I'm super happy with this one, I encourage you to go back and read the previous chapters to see all the new things I've added while I continue to post to the end. I would also love it if you could review to let me know what you think!
The train was slowing and it was headed towards a huge and rickety engine storage unit at the end of the rails. Stacy shivered as it came into view. Old and rusted out engines sat abandoned on the tracks, their paint long since peeled off leaving only corroded metal shells. Train cars were scattered about, heavily vandalized and adding to the ambience of decay. The building they were approaching was just as bad, if not worse. Its large door gaped open; a giant ragged mouth waiting to engulf them as they crept steadily towards it.
Several sets of tracks snaked inside the large and mostly empty metal building, leading to buffers at the far end of the wall. A few more engines were haphazardly parked inside, and the walls appeared crumpled and corroded in places. The tin panelled roof was missing sheets and the sky was visible through it. A few hanging lights dangled precariously from the ceiling, a few had long since crashed to the ground. The place was desolate and completely deserted.
Paul brought the engine to a jerky halt and procured a gun from inside his suit jacket. She winced but he didn't point it directly at her, just motioned for her to get to her feet. She obeyed and allowed him to help her down from the engine.
As she looked around Stacy could scarcely draw breath. She had no idea of what he was going to do and there was no one around to help her so she'd have to think of something fast.
"Well Jones, what do you think?" Paul asked mockingly. He swept his arms around in a motion that implied they were surrounded by grandeur, not the vile hellscape he had managed to find. "I had scoped out some routes and locations earlier. It's amazing how many junked old buildings that fool King has left to rot across the Indian Valley."
"I think you'd better take me back before things end up worse for you," she hissed.
He threw an arm around her. "Now, now. Don't be like that, my dear. We have work to do, you better cut that attitude so we can get down to business."
"Just you wait, you'll be caught. You can't just steal a train and slip away unnoticed. Besides, I would never help you," she angrily spat.
"Oh you will, I guarantee it. And as for getting away, I already have. It all came together perfectly. I'm just a few short steps away from seeing this plan come to fruition. Once the boy arrives my business associate will be able to finish his goal and I will reap the rewards."
A sudden flash of purple sparks emanated from the far side of the room. "Speaking of, here he is!" he exclaimed darkly.
Stacy squinted into the swirling purple vortex. So this is what Schemee saw in Paul's office that day. Suddenly, as if someone was standing at the end of a dark hallway, a figure cut through the rotating darkness and stepped out fluidly.
There was something striking about him, and it wasn't just the prison jumpsuit he wore. He was tall and thin with dark hair and eyes, and walked as if he owned the world. He cast his haughty gaze down to Stacy, before blinking back up to Paul, looking deeply unimpressed.
Stacy shuddered under his gaze, but found it curious how Paul also seemed to shirk back slightly. There was no doubt in her mind, this man was dangerous.
"This is not what we arranged. Do you care to explain what she's doing here? Or better yet, why isn't the boy here?" he asked, sounding bored.
Paul seemed to gain his bravado back. "He's coming, but I'm not giving him over to you until you help me get what I was promised!" he demanded, sounding manic.
"So that's the funny thing," he said with a sneer, "I dare say he's not coming. At least, not through your means. Would you care to explain to me why I had a conversation with him not more than an hour ago on the phone? He was very much not with your people, and was in fact at the station."
This definitely came as a surprise to Paul and he did not hide his horrified shock. "No, that can't be right. I had him unconscious and in a car driven by one of my people, who by the way are actually your people on loan to me, and he is on route here. He should arrive any minute now. I don't believe you, you're lying!" Paul hissed.
The other man smoothly raised one eyebrow. "I assure you I am not, fortunately I have remedied the situation and he will be here. Just very delayed and wasting precious time we don't have." The man once again cast his heavy lidded gaze to Stacy and this time she felt determined to squash her fear. "So, this is what you've brought me. She better have value because you have utterly destroyed my faith in you and very few actions can even restore a hint of that."
Paul clenched his jaw in fury. "This is the woman who holds the key to the station's power!" he snapped as if speaking to an imbecile.
"And you expect me to do what exactly?" the man asked condescendingly.
"You promised me untold power! The magical perimeter guarding her, Twofeathers and the boy fell, so I know the station has been lost. But somehow I still can't access its magic! She's been broken so it should have given up its power to me," Paul challenged angrily.
The man remained unconvinced but studied her more intently. She maintained eye contact, willing her face to maintain neutral, and yet curiously saw something familiar in his face. She couldn't place it but it felt very uncanny valley and disturbed her.
He rolled his eyes and looked away for the second time. "She's not broken, obviously," he said in a condescending manner.
Paul jerked the gun at his side violently. "What do you mean? Look at her more closely!"
The man did not, in fact, look at her a third time. "I've seen enough to know that I've clearly put my confidence in the wrong person. I can say, with absolute certainty, that you have failed to accomplish your goals despite me practically gift wrapping them for you. And you also failed to meet mine. I promise you there will be a reckoning unlike that which you have ever seen unless you can turn this situation around imminently," he sneered at Paul.
Paul snarled and fired the gun in his hand directly over head into the ceiling, coming undone. Stacy flinched but the other man hardly blinked.
"I will show you and I will have what's MINE!"
This is it, she thought, I've been kidnapped, I'm caught in a grudge match between two maniacs, and there's absolutely no one left to help me.
"So what did you hope to accomplish by bringing her here then? Please, by all means, we have nothing but time," the strange man drawled sarcastically.
"I have something planned, I hoped we wouldn't have to do this the hard way but nothing about this job has been typical," Paul shouted dramatically.
They watched him as he stalked back to the engine. She didn't move and the other man didn't speak and also didn't move to stop Paul, perhaps now interested to see what happened next. Clearly neither of them saw her as a threat. Despite him calling her unbroken, she couldn't understand his assessment. She felt too far down to drag herself back up to find a way to escape this impossible situation.
He returned carrying a device; a small box with a series of wires. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked on at it.
"What is that?" she couldn't help herself from demanding, feeling a growing desperation. She didn't know what the intention was, but she knew Paul was twisted beyond any humanity she had known and if he didn't enjoy evil and destructive plots, he had certainly shown that he was good at carrying them out.
"Look Stacy, you're about to be part of something great. You don't realize it, and I know it seems horrible, but I've got this plan. I need you to help me though," he spoke so gently and tenderly that she wanted to vomit.
"I would NEVER help you! Not in any of your sick plans," she snapped, tears pricking her eyes.
He gently grabbed both of her arms to stabilize her. "Stacy, listen to me. Shining Time Station holds immense power, and I could do amazing things with that power. My associate over there? He's figured out a way to harness it, to bend it to his will. Shining Time was promised to me, but I need a few things before I can fully set up shop, so to speak. Yes, Schemer had to die. There were several reasons, but the main one was that removing him was supposed to disturb the magic that the station held. Unfortunately, it didn't fully work. It was a hiccup, but it doesn't matter now. We can make it right, here and now."
She was trembling. "Even if I knew how to give you access to the station's magic, I wouldn't."
"You can and you will," he said gently. His tenderness was a terrible dichotomy to the situation he had placed her in.
"What's going to happen is that before the boy arrives, you're going to dig deep, and I mean real deep, and figure out how to transfer the station's power to me. If you don't, I'll cause you so much grief and destruction that you will have nothing left. Any power you have will belong to me," he explained so reverently that she knew he had gone mad. Even this seemed to surprise the other man slightly.
"I… No, I can't," she stammered.
"Stacy, think about it carefully. I can activate the bomb that I've placed in the police station where your father is currently located. Also, there's a train full of people you care about on a collision course with a rigged car. My people are driving it currently, and they can stop when I call it off, but if not I will frame Mr. King for the incident. Everyone you know and love is trapped inside those locations. They've been placed artificially asleep so there's no chance of escape."
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"They're all safe, for now. And they'll continue to be safe and will be free to go, as long as you're compliant. By now you've probably realized that I'm a killer for hire. Part of what makes me so good at it is that I only accept cases I believe in, and my methods are subtle but effective. I manufacture situations with a delicate touch, and pull all the strings behind the curtains. You're the only one who will have the privilege of this knowledge."
The gentle way he described himself felt wrong. It was too intimate. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end in response. This was the real Paul, the true Paul. They had been trying so hard to reveal him as Schemer's murderer; a violent and deranged monster that destroyed everything for his own ambitions. But in reality he was something quieter, and much more dangerous. He was someone who saw killing as his craft, as if it were an art form that took years of practice before he could make a career out of it.
"So after I give you the magic, then what? I'll be your next victim?" she asked, thinking that the suspense must be the worse part. She eyed the controls wearily.
"No, you're much more special than that," he looked on with glittering eyes, "You're going to be the last. Once I accomplish this one thing I'll never have to kill again because I'll have infinite power at my disposal."
Perhaps the words were enough to suspend her reality, because for a moment she swore she ceased to exist. It felt almost unfortunate to come back to reality and have to chew on his words and digest the meaning. But he didn't give her much of an option. He placed the device in front of her.
"Your choice," he insisted gently.
"So if I can get this to work and I help you, everyone is saved but then I'll die?" she asked.
"Then you'll die," he confirmed in a hushed voice.
She made no motion, and swayed slightly in her seated position. When exactly had she slid to the ground? Her legs surely must have given up on her, the despair was slowly rising up and claiming her, like a drowning person is swallowed by the frothing sea. However, one small, defiant, thought bubbled up from within and spilled forth before she could stop it.
"Do you really think he intended to let you walk free with that kind of power?" she asked quietly.
He froze and turned to face the other man, who seemed to tense up in anticipation of retaliation. For a scant second she wondered if she could use this distraction to escape. But something seemed to snap behind Paul's eyes and they took on a crazed look. She saw his finger tense on the trigger of the gun and she was certain he was going to shoot one of them.
Suddenly a car's headlights lit up the frosted windows at the back of the building and all hell broke loose.
The other man immediately conjured a purple orb and lobbed it directly at Paul, sending him flying in an arc before crashing into a wall. Momentarily ignoring her, he continued to round on Paul's prone form. She scrambled backwards, looking for something to break her bindings but finding none. However, in that one moment, when all hope was lost and the despair had swallowed her whole she saw the faint glimmer of hope. She heard it first, a gentle train whistle. The whistle, Mr. Conductor's whistle.
When she raised her tear stained face she saw him. Not her Mr. Conductor, a different one, though he was dressed the same and held the same whistle. The same golden sparkle. He raised one hand in a gentle wave and she scarcely moved, fearing her acknowledgment would distract the men from their fight.
"Stacy Jones, I'm Mr. Conductor. One of them, anyways, at your service," he gave a polite bow.
She released a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Let me get those for you," he offered, snapping his fingers and her bindings fell loose.
"Thanks," she said breathlessly, "But we have to get Schemee and get out of here! And there's a lot of people who need saving!"
"Well, the good news is that all those people have been saved. Paul doesn't know it yet, but we aren't out of the woods yet. Unfortunately we have to finish this here and now, and there is a lot at stake. I have an idea, it's crazy and would surely get me in a lot of trouble, but I know I can trust you."
She frowned, unsure what he meant.
"Take my powers and fight like hell. I think together we can hold him off because help is almost here. It's up to us now and we need to stop these two from doing more harm. Out of everyone, I think you're the only one who can handle this and avoid the corrupting feeling of power."
She still didn't quite know what he meant, but as he held out his hand to her she was pretty sure that she understood the risk. She could do it, she would do anything to protect her friends and family.
She slowly, almost reluctantly, placed her hand gently down to meet his. When they made contact she felt a sudden rush of strength that threatened to knock her off her feet. The surge of power suddenly coursing through her made her feel like she was on fire, and yet she wasn't getting burnt. It was like the flames were licking at her skin but couldn't quite burn her.
Mr. Conductor had disappeared but she looked down at her hands and realized she was glowing with a golden aura. She felt slightly intoxicated as the feeling of pure energy coursed through her.
"You may want to hurry, because I won't be able to keep this up for long," a voice rang out in her head.
She understood and immediately ran at the other man, tackling him with a force she didn't know she could produce just before he could hit Paul's prone figure with another purple orb, sending it instead crashing into the ceiling.
Schemer had just approached a side door when he heard the explosion. Part of the roof that he could see seemed to buckle. His heart sank, Mr. Conductor had gone ahead to help Stacy fight her way out but this seemed a bit beyond what they were expecting.
He moved closer to the frosted window where he could see a flurried exchange of gold and purple through the glass. Two individuals appeared to be fighting. He frowned, what on earth was going on?
He couldn't make them out through the glass but he could tell that a small brunette woman was fighting a brunette man. They moved far too quickly for him to see details, but he knew three things. One, Stacy was in the fight and using some kind of magic. Two, the other man was definitely not Paul. And three, Paul had been thrown carelessly aside in the melee. None of these facts were reassuring in any way.
He knew he had to intervene, and while he didn't have a plan now wasn't the time to hesitate. He ran over to the nearest mandoor but as he opened it a loud WHOOSH came from the building, knocking him backwards. Thick black smoke was pouring out of the now open door, and he could see flames from within the building.
The old warehouse had been filled with chemical tanks of flammable liquids and the sparks must've ignited something, he thought grimly to himself. But nonetheless, he grit his teeth and charged in.
Through the smoke and the fighting Stacy scarcely knew what had become of Paul. What she did know was that her opponent fought fiercely and without abandon. It was all she, someone who had only just been granted powers with no time to practice, could do to hold her ground.
After one particularly brutal blow she was knocked backwards and crashed to the ground unceremoniously. She struggled to get up, and saw the gold aura around her flicker. The man walked through the smoke towards her, eyes locking down on her menacingly.
"Listen, Stacy, I'll give you credit where credit is due. I am impressed with this display," he drawled, "And perhaps Paul did get something right in bringing you here. But let me make you a counter offer to his miserable choices."
He extended a hand and she was sure he was going to kill her then and there and take the power, but instead he knelt down and offered it to her.
"Work with me, and we can be unstoppable. I can teach you things beyond your wildest dreams. You will see a world so beyond that which you know, I promise everyone you love and care about will be kept safe," he said gently, his dark eyes boring into hers.
She found herself mesmerized by his gaze. Almost without warning her hand began to slowly rise up to meet his.
He smiled, somehow looking familiar and yet not. "What is it you want? Paul just wanted to use you. He threatened you and people you love, killed your lover. That was all him, he's lied to you about my role in that. And even now when he brings you here you are nothing more than a tool for him to exploit. I see your worth, you are so much more than him. I can offer you greatness and happiness, and most of all revenge against the person who wronged you and caused you so much pain." His hand bounced slightly, welcomingly.
She could feel herself becoming drunk on the power. The magic was still hers but it was yelling at her from within, telling him that he was lying and not to trust him. She was conflicted but the feelings of rage against Paul felt like a fire in her belly, and if she didn't give in she felt like it would burn her alive.
Her hand was mere inches from his when he spoke once more. "Come with me, please. And we can even bring Schemee over to our side. It will almost be like we're… a family."
Something about this caused something to snap in her mind. Schemee? If he had nothing to do with Schemer, what did he still want with Schemee? Not to mention, everyone else that had been caught in this nightmare had been someone she considered family, chosen or blood. She didn't need his promise, she didn't need any of it.
She lowered her eyes demurely before yanking her head up again fiercely.
"I already have a family!" she roared, and shot to her feet while throwing her arms out forward. The magical blast caught him square, point blank in the chest and he was thrown backwards through the smoke. She stalked him and found him many feet away, smouldering slightly and struggling to get to his feet.
"Also," she growled, gold sparks flying off of her, "They're already safe. A good friend relayed the message to me. You're done, you need to leave here and NEVER come back!"
She readied another blast and he looked up furiously and tried to call up his own magic, but failed as it sputtered out. He seemed to concentrate for a minute before his eyes went wide with panic. He knew he had lost, he seemed to realize that the control he had held over them was gone. "This isn't over!" he hissed, clutching his chest. She unleashed her blast and he conjured a vortex. Her magic followed him and as the two energies collided they exploded with such a force that she was also thrown backwards.
The smoke was much worse on the inside, and as soon as he needed to take his next breath he started to choke. He raised his jacket to his mouth, coughing as he went. The chemical tanks were belching black smoke that filled the room, obscuring most vision. He could just make out hints of the vicious fight unfolding on the other side of the room, knowing that Stacy was in the thick of it, but the only giveaway was the occasional burst of gold against the more noxious purple. He could not see the participants but he could feel their fury.
He couldn't see Paul from his location but he had watched Paul be thrown like a ragdoll by a magical orb tossed by an unknown assailant. He blindly stumbled to the area where he thought Paul could have landed. It wasn't that far, but in the burning building it was far enough. He squinted in the toxic smoke, trying to keep himself as low to the ground as possible. He could just make out the engine Paul and Stacy had rode in and he steadied his resolve to get in and out as fast as possible. He moved to just beyond the spot Paul was last seen and found a sizeable dent in the wall from where he must've impacted.
However, no one was currently there.
He scanned the ground, wondering if he was in the wrong spot. But when a body tackled him to the ground from behind, he understood that Paul had likely been following him, rather than the other way around. He tried to roll onto his back so that he could kick off his attacker but he was easily pinned in his surprised state. He was involuntarily flipped over and forced to look Paul in the eyes.
"You," was all Paul said, with a murderous look in his eyes and a voice that dripped pure poison.
Schemer gave a growl and with a rush of adrenaline threw Paul off him. Paul was thrown to the side but managed to catch his balance and land on his feet. Schemer quickly rolled to his knees, not allowing Paul the opportunity to catch him off guard a second time. Both trying not to cough from the heavy smoke.
"You're supposed to be dead," Paul accused from above.
"Just give up Paul and we'll both get out alive," Schemer spat angrily.
"Oh I plan on getting out alive, it's you that I'd like to see dead," Paul hissed back, "You're dead Schemer, but I'm going to make sure of it this time. You can't scheme your way out of this one!" he snarled and launched himself at Schemer a second time.
This time, Schemer was ready for him and rolled to the side. Paul only caught him by his jacket and they both crashed to the floor. They rolled around, each trying to get the upper hand, while the building continued to burn. The walls groaned as they strained to stay upright. Years of neglect and exposure meant that they were already severely weakened. Schemer picked up on this and was momentarily distracted by the way the walls seemed to sway. Paul used this to his advantage and pinned him once more, his hands wrapped around Schemer's throat.
"Paul," he choked out, "The building is going to collapse." Schemer gasped, trying to pull Paul's hands off his neck. He managed to shift them slightly but the smoke was choking him enough that it didn't matter. He gasped but that only made him swallow the smoke faster. With one final burst of energy, he threw Paul off him a second time. Paul's head struck an oil barrel and as he struggled to get up he swayed, disoriented.
Schemer wasted no time in getting to his feet, unsteady though he was. He suddenly saw a dazzling light display cutting through the smoke. A brilliant golden orb was being created, and he wasted no time in running towards it.
As he caught up to it he saw an explosion, and one person he couldn't quite make out disappeared, but the other more recognizable person flew backwards. Much to his consternation, that person was Stacy, and he ran forward, forgetting about Paul.
She hit something, hard, and realized her own magic had finally given out. But as she fell down she found that it wasn't the hard ground that had caught her. Someone in a plaid suit jacket was gripping her tightly. She was disoriented and couldn't focus her vision on him, but tried to turn to face him.
"Schemee?" she murmured weakly. Hands cupped her face and helped stabilize her but her double vision didn't subside.
"Mr. Conductor?" she heard him call, desperately begging for help, but Mr. Conductor was nowhere to be seen.
"Not again", she thought, "Not another one." These were their friends and close allies, and they had lost yet another Conductor who had sacrificed everything for them.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Schemee's voice sounded deeper than she remembered, older. She felt herself being cradled into his chest and as she breathed in his scent involuntarily, despite the smoke, her mind realized it was someone far more familiar. She felt calm and safe, but for a second wondered if she was dead or hallucinating, because this was not Schemee. There was only one other person who could possibly look and dress like this, and he was dead by someone else's hand.
"Stacy? Stacy please!" he pleaded, rocking her slightly.
Her eyes fluttered open once more and as they focused she drank in the sight of someone she thought she would never see again. The warm eyes, the curl, the brow furrowed deeply in worry, the boyish face was searching hers for signs of injury, and she knew she was not looking at Schemee. She was instead looking at a ghost. She took a shuddering gasp and gripped the lapels of his suit jacket. He was solid, warm, and a stream of blood was trickling from beneath his hairline. She placed a hand on his chest and when she found the feel of his steady heartbeat underneath her palm she nearly cried out in relief.
"Schemer?" she rasped, still disbelieving. The name felt unfamiliar in her mouth, as if she had forgotten how to address him.
But then he smiled with relief flooding his face and he pulled her in tightly again, one hand on the back of her head. She buried her face into his shoulder, taking in his scent and scarcely believing the universe had smiled so kindly on her.
She opened her eyes and saw a figure pursuing them through the smoke.
"Schemer!" she cried, and he whipped around to see Paul raising a railroad spike threateningly as he limped slowly towards them.
Schemer scrambled to his feet, pulling her up with him. She still seemed woozy and unsteady. They were unarmed and Mr. Conductor was gone and unable to save them. He gripped her tightly and tried to shield her behind him.
"It's over Paul, there's nothing left!" he barked angrily. Still Paul came towards them.
He weighed his options. They could run, but he could probably catch up to them. He could try and hold Paul off, despite him being armed, but he would have to let go of Stacy and she was vulnerable if Paul overpowered him.
But Paul was almost upon them and they were out of time. He had to make a decision, and fast, when a stream of thoughts flooded his mind.
Let me help, a gentle voice spoke to him. He mentally agreed, desperate for any help. Steady yourself and raise your arm. As he obliged he felt something flow through him. It was as if the ground was funnelling its power and using him as a conductor, it flowed up through his feet and built somewhere behind his outstretched hand. It burned, and it was a struggle to keep himself on his feet.
When the pain felt like it was too much and that the air around him was crackling he cried out in pain, wanting to collapse. I'm so sorry, just a bit longer, the voice said apologetically. Paul began to run and raised the spike above his head.
Now. He felt something crackle in the air and a brilliant beam of light sprang forth from his open palm, catching Paul head on and throwing him clear out the window. The beam ceased and he collapsed, hand smoking slightly.
He heard Stacy crying his name as she clung to him, trying to help him up. They were both crouched on their knees on the ground, his weight leaning against her. She straightened him up by supporting his back with one arm and the other hand gently supporting his neck. His eyes fluttered open again and he smiled gently and, despite everything that had happened, she smiled back, tears once again falling. This was it. He knew he was going to die here, however many times he had cheated death, he had come up short of total victory. But this time... this time was different. This time everyone was safe, and it was partially thanks to him. Schemer felt slightly comforted by this thought, though his head felt light and he could no longer think straight. The sound of parts of the roof falling through barely registered with him. He stared upwards, trapped in the blackness, his eyes streaming from the heat and smoke. He slowly blinked his eyes, and shut for a moment longer than he intended. He felt himself slipping away, quietly.
"No, No! Don't leave me again!" he heard her sob, and felt her hands on his chest. He also felt her trying to lift him, but between his dead weight and her weakened state they could only stay together in the flames.
He could barely muster the strength to open his eyes but he managed to crack them open. "Go, please. Run," he wheezed.
She shook her head and tears streamed down her face, stray drops lightly hitting his cheeks.
"Schemer, no! I need you. Schemee needs you," she pleaded.
Something about that stirred something within him. He had made a promise, a promise he couldn't go back on. The voice that had come quietly to lend its power had left, but he felt some kind of warmth spreading through him. It didn't cure him per say; but it did lessen his exhaustion and the pain slowly dissipated.
His eyes fluttered open fully this time. Through the smoke, Stacy Jones' face peered down at him, soot smeared across one cheek.
"Schemer, you've got to get up! We have to go!" Her hands gripped his jacket tightly. The smoke had cleared a little bit through the new holes in the ceiling and he could see her slightly better. And then, all at once, it was like he was suddenly drawn back into consciousness. He registered the fact that they were in fact in a burning building. A building that was on the verge of collapsing. She helped him to his feet, and grabbed his hand. Together they ran, just as the building began to fall apart, piece by piece. More pieces of roof fell through and one of the walls was slanting inwards. He could see that the door was crooked and was slowly shifting with the building. He ran harder than he ever had in his life, never letting go of her hand.
They ran out the front of the building just in time to hear the whole thing come down behind them. Smoke was still billowing out of the smouldering wreckage and small explosions rumbled from the inside. Still they ran, despite having absolutely nothing left except for each other's presence. They ran until they reached a grassy area and until they could run no further. Collapsing to their knees, they hit the cool grass. His lungs were searing and breathing was difficult. They still remained hand in hand, and were both lying belly down on the grass. Facing each other, they simultaneously lost consciousness, with the sounds of a helicopter filling their ears as they shut their eyes.