Page 101 of The Curse Trilogy

I shake free from the momentary distraction as I bring my focus back to the crisis at hand.

“I’m going to shoot them into the ground, and walk my way out there.”

“That’s not what they’re for. They’re meant to shoot ropes into the ground to tie shit off with. They won’t hold you.”

“They’ll go seven feet into the ground, and unless I’ve gained a couple hundred pounds, that should be enough to hold me until I can get the next one shot.”

I finally find the damn ground treader guns, and I grab a row of stakes to attach to each of my legs. My head calculates the math for the timing and execution I’ll need to make this work. I rip a new mask off the wall and strap it to my face while pulling on a set of goggles as well.

“Araya, you could be killed.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m not leaving those kids out there to feel as though they weren’t important enough for someone to come for them. Now move out of my fucking way,” I blare, my voice a little muffled by the enclosed mask, and then I kick the door open to the outside hell dropping from the sky instead of rising from the ground.

The hollow whistling rushes into a roaring threat as the hellacious winds drag the ground to the sky into the center of the gaping hole created by the funnel acting like a big ass vacuum. It’s in full swing now, and its even more beautiful.

Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?

I feel my body being pulled, invited into the sky, and I shoot the first stake into the ground just as my feet jerk free from their unstable hold on the earth. My whole body flips upside down until I’m staring at the ground that has forsaken me.

I steady my breaths while quickly grabbing the second gun to shoot the next stake in. As soon as it connects, I press the button that cuts the rope to the first gun, and I slap the gun to my leg to load the next stake to continue the process of walking upside down.

I grunt as the suctioning force tries to rip me in half, and then my stupid, stupid gun jams just before I reach the door. Fucking shit.

I drop it to the ground just in time to dodge a flying sheet of metal, the corner of it scraping me with its uranium burn. I can feel the rope pulling free from the ground, warning me of my impending fate if I don’t think a little quicker. I grit my teeth and take a deep breath as I press the clip button on my still working piece.

The winds grab me, jerking me into the spinning vortex of oblivion, but within a blink, I find the next stake, load it, and then I shoot it into the ground just in front of the door before I get too far out of range.

I can feel it slipping almost immediately - more distance than my other shots has gathered between me and the ground this time, making the depth of my shot so much less. I pull against it to climb downward very quickly but cautiously. The wind slaps me in the face, ripping my mask free with its long, deft fingers.

The sand rushes my nose, eyes, and mouth, leaving me squinting and fighting blindly against the storm while struggling to breathe. I grab a hold of the doorframe just as the rope is violently sucked from the ground, and I use my telekinesis to knock the door open.

Come on, damn it. Almost there.

Using every ounce of my strength, I pull myself into the opening before forcing the door shut. A set of lockers catches my eye from my peripheral, and I use my gift to slide them in front of the door to help hold it shut. Shaking my head free of the excess dust, I start running through the halls.

I finally hear the crying sound again when glass shatters, and I see the kids huddled in a corner of an oversized closet area behind a classroom.

I force the lockers behind me into the room to block the windows long enough for me to run by. I slide into the closeted area just as the force of the storm proves to be stronger than me, ripping the lockers free from the room. I force the desk against the door of the room, and a little girl trembles as I scoop her up off the ground.

“Why aren’t you in the basement?” I ask one of the older ones.

“The basement caved in during the blast. We couldn’t find everyone, and we wouldn’t leave until we did. By the time we were all accounted for, the storm was too bad to go outside,” he answers, his voice trembling and tears filling his eyes.

My own eyes water as I stare at the scared, forgotten left behind. They’re sticking together the way we had to.

“You came for… us?” a girl asks in shocked bemusement.

“Of course I did,” I say soothingly as my fingers strum the tears from her eyes.

Then the lesser structured roof on the school starts to pull free from the foundation. The twisting groans of the metal ring out louder, warning me of the inevitable bound to happen any second now.

“Fuck,” I spew while staring at the roof lifting higher, and the children start screaming as dust fills the room.

I hold my hands up toward the retreating tin cover to pull it back to base. A boy gasps when he sees my show of power, and he runs over to hold onto my leg. He can’t be more than five. His soft hybrid eyes stare up into mine with such adoration and need - as though he’s just seen an angel instead of a hybrid. He clings to me like I’m the protector he’s been needing his whole life.

“You’re gifted,” a girl gushes. “You’re hybrid… like us.”

Apparently they can’t read the eyes yet.