The Light Brigade - Chapter 12

Will pushed through the swinging doors with the sound of his guard’s footsteps ringing in his ears.

This is an installment of my new serialized middle grade novel - The Light Brigade. When new kid in town Will finds himself in the midst of a sea of brainwashed middle schoolers, he has to join the Light Brigade, an unlikely group of heroes, to save them. Can he trust the Man Upstairs who guides them with fortune cookie directions? Will he find his place in the Brigade? Will he be able to stop the shadowy New Moon Group from forcing his classmates to collect acorns for a cartoon squirrel until they all collapse? Subscribed? Get caught up here.

Will pushed through the swinging doors with the sound of his guard’s footsteps ringing in his ears. He looked around to see if there was anything he could put in front of the door to keep it closed, but the blank hallways in front of him left him with a pit in his stomach just as empty. He could hear the man talking on the radio as his footsteps came nearer the door. Can’t barricade, so I’ll have to run, he thought.

Straight ahead lay a long hallway that ended in door similar to the one he had just come through. To both his right and his left were much shorter hallways that looked like they looped back around to connect by the far door. All of it was lined with doors, potential hiding places if any of them were open. No time to think, only time to run. He ran to his left, hoping he could make it around the corner before his pursuer came through the door.

He ran as fast as he could, making it around the corner even as the swish of the door announced that his enemy had arrived. Will froze, listening. To his surprise, the man was not running after him but seemed to just be standing there. From the other end of the hall, he heard the sound of the other door opening.

And that was when Will realized his mistake. The man wasn’t chasing him because he didn’t need to. He had called other guards and trapped him in this part of the building. They would probably start to close in on him soon; he needed to find somewhere to hide.

Will started to creep toward the nearest door, but realized immediately that the tile floor was going to echo terribly. He carefully crouched down and removed his shoes, his stocking feet muffling his movements much better. He moved from door to door down the hall, checking each and straining his ears for movement from the guards.

As he neared the far end of the hall, he realized his search for a hiding place was in vain. Reaching the end his hall, he peered slowly around the corner. The guard was just standing there staring straight ahead. What are they waiting for? Are more guards coming or are they just waiting for me to give up? Will wondered.

A voice came over the guard’s radio, “All clear on the first floor. Moving to the second floor now.” They were searching for him, sounds like a lot of them, too. But not here, yet. He might still be able to escape if he could distract the guards.

He searched in his backpack for...anything that could help him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any explosives or robotics parts or cool MacGyver skills. All he found were a couple of folders, some pens and pencils, and his thick fantasy book that he had taken to read at school that day. Great, at least I could drop it on their toe when they come to get me, he thought bemusedly, then they won’t be able to chase me as well.

The mental image of the book banging down on the guard’s foot gave him an idea. He gently placed the book on the floor and pushed it back and forth, watching it glide easily over the slippery floor. He quickly took off his socks and stuffed them and his shoes into his bag. He wouldn’t be so quiet, but he would be less likely to slip.

Crossing himself and wondering if Houdini was the patron saint of escape artists, he pushed the book as hard as he could down the hall with his foot. He got ready to run. With an echoing BANG, the book slammed into the side wall at the other end of the hall. In a bit of luck more than Will could ever have imagined, the book ricocheted perfectly around the corner toward the door he had come through. He saw the guard nearest him take off down the main hallway, counted to three, and then sprinted through the other door in the hopes of finding some kind of refuge.

He had done it, he had escaped the guards! No time to celebrate, or they would actually catch him. He found himself in an enclosed bridge, likely connecting the office building to the mill itself. He ran forward, feet slapping against the cold floor, knowing that this was his only hope. His heart was pounding in his ears so loud he couldn’t be sure if the guards were following him. He didn’t look back.

“Hey you! Stop!” boomed a voice through the bridge, filling Will with dread that seemed to supercharge his steps.

Several pairs of footsteps and more shouts followed him through the door at the other end of the bridge which was mercifully open. He came out into the clatter and foul odor of the paper mill floor, high above on a metal grated catwalk. Will winced as he ran as fast as he could, the sharp floor digging into his feet. Along the wall were several offices, but Will found them all locked. Will stared around in panic for a place to hide, but found only the stairs.

Taking them two at a time, he glanced up and saw three or four guards running after him on the walk above. Down, down, down he ran through three flights of stairs. He landed hard at the bottom, twisting his ankle, but saw across the wide concrete floor a door with an exit sign above it. It was maybe 100 yards away. If he could reach it, he could probably escape.

It was tempting, so very tempting, to try to make it to the door. But one look back at the guards now racing down the steps after him told him that his persistent lack of athletic ability had finally come back to bite him. He glanced around quickly for anywhere else to hide.

Standing like row after row of ten foot tall soldiers were dozens of freshly made rolls of paper. The towering rolls were his only chance. He dodged ahead a half dozen rolls and then squeezed between them, wriggling between them as well as he could.

Will listened hard. The guards had reached the bottom of the steps and were fanning out, searching for him. He held his breath, hoping against hope that somehow they would not think to look here. Moments later, a face appeared in the crack. “Found him,” the guard shouted, “he’s in the paper rolls. Get out here, kid, before I have to get a forklift.”

Will knew when he had been beat. He didn’t want to make them even more angry than they clearly already were, so he twisted free of his hiding spot. As soon as he was out, the guard grabbed Will roughly by the shoulder, leading him back up the stairs. Will saw that his shirt announced that his name was John like Zechariah’s tablet transported to the 21^st century.

With his head hanging, he trudged back to the hallway he had been hiding in just minutes before. John pushed him into a room with a large table surrounded by lots of chairs. He pushed Will one of the chairs and told him to stay put. At least it were comfortable.

“We’ve got him in Conference Room 303,” said John into his radio. “Are you going to send up Dr. Stoneman?”

“Copy,” returned a staticky voice, “Dr. Stoneman will be up in a while. He’s in a meeting with the big wigs and can’t be disturbed.”

“No problem,” said John, “I’ll keep him here.”

He started to go, but Will called after him, “Who’s Dr. Stoneman?”

John sized him up, and replied, “You got some guts saying anything to me, kid. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you are in way over your head. Dr. Adam Stoneman is the Vice President of Research & Development, and will be in here shortly to show you what’s what. Be a peach and wait here quietly, will ya?”

John sidled into the hall and stationed himself right outside, his back looming in the door’s window. Will collapsed into the chair, the anxiety of the last few minutes leaving him shaky. The guard was definitely right about one thing: he was in way over his head.