made no move to follow Farrell. They just watched Izzy.
“Why couldn’t the Cambian have targeted the debate team?” Izzy asked. “At least then we would have had something to talk about.” She leaned back as they surrounded her. Death by cheerleaders. For Izzy, there couldn’t have been a worse way to go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was no sign of Shana Rowen as Farrell raced down the corridor at Lexham. The only person he encountered was his brother Rom, who almost ran right past Farrell without noticing him. Rom’s feet came out from under him as he turned back to look at Farrell and slid across the floor to a stop.
“Girl’s locker room!” Farrell yelled back as he continued to run. He jammed his shoulder into the double doors that led outside, pushing them open, and ran into the darkness of the night.
“Girl’s locker room. Got it,” Rom said to himself as he got up and ran off in the opposite direction.
Outside, Farrell stopped and looked around the campus. There were no more students or teachers. Everyone had gone home from the game. The campus was deserted. Farrell listened for any sounds, anything that could give him a clue as to where the infected cheerleader had gone.
A noise suddenly drew Farrell’s attention behind him. Farrell swung around towards the noise only to see the soda machine at the edge of the quad. He slowly moved towards it, looking and listening, his heart pounding faster and faster. Half the lights on the machine’s panel were broken and it glowed dimly, casting a yellow hue across the walkway. The same sound happened again and Farrell stopped in his tracks. The sound was coming from the machine. It was something mechanical and innocuous. Nothing alien or menacing.
Farrell turned away and was about to move on when Shana Rowen suddenly jumped on top of him from the roof of the walkway. She instantly began to pummel him with blows, her fists smashing into his face and body. She stopped just long enough to tease him. “You’re starting to become a pest. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to have to report you to the principal.”
Shana raised her arm up again. She clenched her fist into a battering ram and was about to bring it down on Farrell, one last blow, when she was mowed over by another figure. The cheerleader and this other person tumbled off of Farrell and rolled together a few feet away. Shana scrambled up off the ground and ran off before Farrell could wipe the blood from his eyes and take off after her.
Farrell sat up and the mysterious stranger who had saved him sat up as well. They looked at one another. “Who are you?” Farrell asked.
It was Bobby Ramirez. “I’m the head of the West Coast Division of the Committee and I’m hunting aliens,” he told Farrell, trying to sound as official as possible.
“That’s impossible,” Farrell replied. “Because
I’m
the head of the West Coast Division of the Committee and
I’m
hunting aliens.”
Bobby looked surprised but thrilled. He stood up and offered his hand to Farrell, helping him up off the ground. “You mean there really is a Committee?”
“Yes,” Farrell said.
“And there really are aliens?” Bobby asked, excited. “It’s true. Oh my God! I was right. There
are
aliens!”
“Yep, you were right,” Farrell said as he looked off in the direction Shana had run. “And right now one’s getting away and I need to stop it before it destroys the world.”
“Okay,” said Bobby.
Without another word of explanation Farrell took off after Shana Rowen. Bobby stood in the quad for a moment, taking it all in. But, really, how do you take all
that
in? He’d finally heard some information that confirmed what he had always believed but could never prove. There
were
aliens—and he had actually touched one! There was only one thing left to do. Follow Farrell.
* * *
Izzy was surrounded by cheerleaders. It was her own personal version of Hell.
The girls—and former point guard turned yell leader
“Why couldn’t the Cambian have targeted the debate team?” Izzy asked. “At least then we would have had something to talk about.” She leaned back as they surrounded her. Death by cheerleaders. For Izzy, there couldn’t have been a worse way to go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was no sign of Shana Rowen as Farrell raced down the corridor at Lexham. The only person he encountered was his brother Rom, who almost ran right past Farrell without noticing him. Rom’s feet came out from under him as he turned back to look at Farrell and slid across the floor to a stop.
“Girl’s locker room!” Farrell yelled back as he continued to run. He jammed his shoulder into the double doors that led outside, pushing them open, and ran into the darkness of the night.
“Girl’s locker room. Got it,” Rom said to himself as he got up and ran off in the opposite direction.
Outside, Farrell stopped and looked around the campus. There were no more students or teachers. Everyone had gone home from the game. The campus was deserted. Farrell listened for any sounds, anything that could give him a clue as to where the infected cheerleader had gone.
A noise suddenly drew Farrell’s attention behind him. Farrell swung around towards the noise only to see the soda machine at the edge of the quad. He slowly moved towards it, looking and listening, his heart pounding faster and faster. Half the lights on the machine’s panel were broken and it glowed dimly, casting a yellow hue across the walkway. The same sound happened again and Farrell stopped in his tracks. The sound was coming from the machine. It was something mechanical and innocuous. Nothing alien or menacing.
Farrell turned away and was about to move on when Shana Rowen suddenly jumped on top of him from the roof of the walkway. She instantly began to pummel him with blows, her fists smashing into his face and body. She stopped just long enough to tease him. “You’re starting to become a pest. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to have to report you to the principal.”
Shana raised her arm up again. She clenched her fist into a battering ram and was about to bring it down on Farrell, one last blow, when she was mowed over by another figure. The cheerleader and this other person tumbled off of Farrell and rolled together a few feet away. Shana scrambled up off the ground and ran off before Farrell could wipe the blood from his eyes and take off after her.
Farrell sat up and the mysterious stranger who had saved him sat up as well. They looked at one another. “Who are you?” Farrell asked.
It was Bobby Ramirez. “I’m the head of the West Coast Division of the Committee and I’m hunting aliens,” he told Farrell, trying to sound as official as possible.
“That’s impossible,” Farrell replied. “Because
I’m
the head of the West Coast Division of the Committee and
I’m
hunting aliens.”
Bobby looked surprised but thrilled. He stood up and offered his hand to Farrell, helping him up off the ground. “You mean there really is a Committee?”
“Yes,” Farrell said.
“And there really are aliens?” Bobby asked, excited. “It’s true. Oh my God! I was right. There
are
aliens!”
“Yep, you were right,” Farrell said as he looked off in the direction Shana had run. “And right now one’s getting away and I need to stop it before it destroys the world.”
“Okay,” said Bobby.
Without another word of explanation Farrell took off after Shana Rowen. Bobby stood in the quad for a moment, taking it all in. But, really, how do you take all
that
in? He’d finally heard some information that confirmed what he had always believed but could never prove. There
were
aliens—and he had actually touched one! There was only one thing left to do. Follow Farrell.
* * *
Izzy was surrounded by cheerleaders. It was her own personal version of Hell.
The girls—and former point guard turned yell leader
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