After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian) Read Online Free PDF Page B

this child is dead.
    I lurch forwards. The boy falls back behind me. In the corner of my vision, I see my image on the screen run too. She bends as I bend to slice through the air faster. I focus on the bouncing cross on the man’s chest as he hurtles towards me. I don’t know what I’m planning to do but my body works for me, pulling the heavy sword up to chest height.
    My first mistake is thinking the man has overlooked me. In a neat blow, his fist jabs into the hilt of my sword. There’s a sharp snap, like conkers colliding together in a game, and my fingers bend back unnaturally. I think that unearthly scream comes from me.
    I’m still cursing, searching the floor for my weapon when pain fractures the side of my face, shooting up to my eye. I imagine a vein bursting, sending agony through all the rivulets like a tree growing in fast motion. My body twists as I reel backwards; sight blurred and with my eyes, head and nose all throbbing.
    The man’s already off, sprinting towards the boy now curled on the ground.
    I don’t even know the child’s name. Why didn’t I ask his name?
    I’m running. The stinging pain from my hand goes numb and I force on through hazy vision. My eye’s swelling too, the lid closing over it, yet I keep pushing my legs over the sand.
    The man skids. Leans over the boy. His hand reaches out, and I do the only thing I can.
    I jump.
    My leap closes the distance between us and I land on his back, locking my hands around his neck. He jerks backward, his body twisting as we tumble to the ground. My knees and arms smack onto the sand, the force wrenching my hands from his neck. For a terrifying second, his arm swings for my face, but I roll away just in time, and his fist meets air. Almost as soon as we’re down, we’re both clambering to get up.
    We scramble together in a frenzy. Somehow his kicks don’t hurt, they’re just stopping me from getting to my feet. My breath screams with exertion, like a siren in my ears with everything else dulled into a muffled roar. Let. Me. Go! The maniac’s trying to grab my neck. I’m a trapped animal, scratching and scraping, using my fingernails, my teeth, every speck of strength and determination I have left to break free.
    He’s stronger, but I’m faster. I escape his grasp and right away I’m on my feet. I dive towards the discarded spear I gave to the boy moments ago.
    With horrible agility for his size, the man rolls onto his front and pushes up with his hands.
    That’s when I see it.
    The soft, exposed side of his neck.
    I can’t think. I just thrust the spear in a savage arc through the air and don’t stop until the man’s flesh hits the side of my fist.
    Hot, sticky blood pulses over my hand and in between my fingers. It seeps into my balled palm. Blood which smells of iron and rot.
    I didn’t cause this. This is nothing to do with me.
    I stare down at my hand and his neck. There’s a droplet of sweat below his hairline. A constellation of freckles across his nape. He shudders and it runs from him to me through the spear which connects us. And just like that, he falls. Where there was a running, breathing man, there is now a dead mass of bones and flesh.
    I snatch my aching fingers away from the spear as if it were aflame.
    Screams. Cheers. Hoots. As though I’ve just popped my ears, my hearing bursts back.
    There’s drums. First a few, then the sound multiplies like the beginnings of an avalanche. I realise the spectators are stamping their feet—a Mexican wave of appreciation washing through the stands.
    Is Coral one of those twisted-mouthed people? Does she want me to live or die?
    Another thought paralyses me. Dad was asked to work at this event. He’ll be watching me right now. Waiting to see whether his only child will survive. So that answers my question. Coral wants me to die, and she wants my dad to watch.
    I swallow, unable to take my eyes from the adoring crowd. Why are they cheering a death? Did I do that when I was in