CHAP 11: There are seven of them.

 
        There are seven of them. Books are thrown. Silently down silver steps seven of them pass. Sounds of voices screeching, skin slipping on steel doors with silver handles. A single one stands amongst the seven. She stands alone, eyes skipping from steel doors to solid walls. There are seven of them and they stare, some smiling.
        To the door, she takes the exit. Taps down the hall, in steel boots. Trips on tears, she looks behind. Too late to fight, she thinks. Two students towards her look. Ten minutes is the time before she tires. Ten minutes it took to run a mile. To the Tower, Tanya takes care of things. Tanya might take off in ten minutes. There must be time, enough time. There are seven of them sprinting down sweaty halls.
        Round the right corner, she runs. Rooms with brown doors race past her. Her tracking/locator device rings in her ears. It rings repeatedly since routing need to be rerun. Wires need to be replaced. She rips out the tracker, throws it at one of the seven. Reading signs around the door, realizing this is the wrong door, she runs back. Rips past the seven, a miracle the others do not grab her. Runs down one more runway, through the right door. The right door has a “no entry” sign.
        Was it ten minutes? Could it have been longer? Did it really take her ten minutes to run a mile?
        Broken concrete trips footing down rocky fall. Hands crumple stones deform the recover. Stumble up turning back Seven run. Faster boot after boot stepping on rocks ankle rocks upon stone upon rock. Rusting pipe yellows the running foot over rust over pipe into rock. Gasping air dusty toe punctured lung wires tap across fail. Running find fencing hands sever skin razor point fatal wound bleeding. Pain over fencing hit pavement run again. Hold severed hand quickly run Tower. Run outrun the chatter fence seven now clamber one after one until the seven hit pavement. Run faster.
        Run faster.
        Trees, bushes and all that. Houses, cars and all that. The Tower, the Regal, and all that. Floor eleven, ten minutes are almost up. This will be the first time she has ever run a mile in ten minutes.
        Run faster.
        The door opens easily. It swings and hits the brick, rattling a little. A bloody smear on the silver handle. Sprinting inside, she slaps at the elevator buttons situated on a single wall. Silver doors stand stationary all the while desperate hands smear sticky blood on silver buttons. Seven are sprinting, she must use stairs. Stairs to floor eleven? After she ran a mile?
        “Lindsey.”
        She turns around. Tanya.
        Tanya tells that talking is best done with steel pipes. Two hands tightly grip, like a baseball bat. Right in the lobby of the Tower. Tanya takes care of things.
        There are not seven of them. There are eight of them. Her and Tanya. Lindsey and the others. One and eight. Seconds later, the seven of the eight enter and make it official.