Don't Miss: Old Testament

All Characters are 18 or older; they, the places and events are fictional. Author reserves rights of use and exhibition etc. This is a combination of the first four chapters of the "Don't Miss" Series, put here with revisions made for plot understanding, syntax and word choice, and of course typos. Previous grey areas are cleared up, and everything should be one continuous line now. Enjoy.

--Kyoketsu Shoge

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--Chapter One--

--Paradise Lost; Paradise Found--

*************

Before that day, I wasn't sure whether or not I loved her. What matters is that, between the present and that morning, there were events which changed both of us, and our entire class, for better or for worse. I shall attempt to recount the details. They are both a hymn of gladness, and a dirge of mourning.

I felt that something bad would happen that day. I called to my brother for help, because I was just a scared little kid. I was hoping that I could keep her safe too. Here we are though, two of twenty against the far wall undergoing the Test, looking out at the sun-bleached lawns of Creekmount Academy, a school which took exceptional students from the ninth through twelfth grade years. I am Alphonse, eighteen years of age, and the younger of two men from the family Rosethorne. At the time, I was attending the school for my final year. She...Elena, was also attending for her final year.

*************

Elena was my equal in most everything we had the blessing of sharing. Her one aspect which none could rival was her beauty. Such fragile and demure beauty one could not find in finely crafted porcelain. Her hair, an alchemy of gold and sunset, cascaded effortlessly behind her wherever her lithe body would take her, and her eyes scintillated like emeralds encased in glass. Until that fateful day, I didn't fully notice her beauty. Perhaps none of us did. The four foul men did, though. That was why they kept her for...I digress. Grant me a few moments more for exposition.

Creekmount's uniform was becoming of Elena (as it seemed for all the girls), but her personality seemed an ill fit. This was the shield with which she defended herself; not arrogance, but something more humble. Elena had book smarts. What she lacked in life-experience, she could recite from memory. The day I saw her fully, her knowledge could not defend her. That's why I helped her—-why I continue to help her.

*************

The day before it happened, we were in physical education. I was watching the ongoing basketball exercises. Elena and another girl, Catherine (who would also undergo the test) were competing on free throws.

"You're doing well today, Elena," Catherine commented, upon finishing her fifth consecutive throw.

"I can hold my own in this sort of thing...There. One more and I've got you beat," Elena responded in her charming, cheery, pseudo-soprano.

"It would be a first," scoffed Catherine.

Be assured, dearest readers, that your humble narrator (at the behest of his male instincts) was only slightly aware of how important it was that Elena make this next basket. At the time, I was more concerned with how lovely Elena's shapely butt looked in the Phys-Ed shorts. I wanted to encourage her, let her know that I had faith in her. Instead, I reverted to my usual mode of talking to her: awkward humor.

"Elena," I called to her, "If you don't make this next basket, I'll be forced to beat you in the German test tomorrow."

She looked at me quizzically, and responded, "What?"

"Don't miss," I said.

"I'll do my best," she called back, flashing a cheesy thumbs-up.

I watched as Elena stepped up to the line. She readied herself, and turned slightly, giving me a happy yet determined smile. She shot the ball.

The three of us watched, as the ball went through the basket; and beyond the school's fence, the tallest of the men chuckled, as he and the rest observed the prospective targets.

"Heh, so she made it. She looks to be the best I've seen."

"But then, there's not a bad looking one in the whole class, is there, Mark?"

"This is the senior class-B, right?" Luke asked, turning to their leader.

"Yeah, that's how it looks," John mused. "And, if they move from class to class as a single element, the so-called German class might be the best time to do it. This is our chance. Let's not miss it."

And the four men grinned at once. They knew when they would strike. But then, they had already gotten their supplies ready weeks ago. Masks, ropes, guns--Dog Day Afternoon in a bag, really. I just wish that they had been after our money.

*************

The morning was chilly. I wore the school's uniform blazer that day, as did Elena. I hated how it hid her body, but it was how I started a conversation that morning. I asked her what the fabric that made up the liner was, and Elena stifled her cute laugh with her slender fingers.

"That's easy, silly. It's on the tag."

Elena walked in front of me and slipped her hands behind my neck to lift the collar. The chill which rode upon her fingers sent shivers throughout my body, but their feather-light softness warmed my soul. As she reached the tag under the collar, she read off, "liner: 70% cotton, 30% poly..."

She stopped short of polyester when she saw my eyes. I had been watching her as she read, and as our eyes met, a long second froze us colder than the air around us. As the bells from the school began to toll, we stepped apart. Elena and I shivered once more, as the spaces where we had touched became cold again.

"Five minutes before morning announcements. We should hurry," Elena said, shakily, breaking the silence.

"Oh, right. Let's double-time it, eh?"

"What?"

"Double-time, it's the military term for...uh, jogging. My brother Albrecht taught me how."

"Alright then, let's go."

"Right, keep in step with me then. Albrecht says if you go too fast you'll run out of steam too soon."

*************

"Our names are unimportant. What is important are our demands, so listen good. We don't want money, although if you've got some lying around, feel free to chip in. What we do want is a way out of here. We know this school is big enough and strong enough for a Helicopter on the roof. We want a civilian pilot and enough fuel to get us to Rio De Janeiro. Demands had better damn well be met in twenty minutes, or we start wasting the students. One every twenty minutes until the demands are met. Hurry up, you heathen fucks."

That was the message we heard as the four men forced their way through the school. They hit the front office first, blowing away the rent-a-cop security guard in a blaze of gunfire. They put their demands on a tape, rolling continuously every five minutes over the loudspeakers. The speakers were wired to the outside too, so the authorities which now surrounded the school got a chilling reminder that our time was rapidly running out.

The message repeated for a fourth time, and they took out our professor. We knew how bleak our situation was, but somehow when Professor Von Schwendi hit the floor, it sank in, and many of us began to despair.

Outside, a group of men in Camouflage approached the large group of police cars which had gathered around the front doors of Creekmount Academy. One officer turned to return the salute they all gave. "Staff Sergeant?"

"Rosethorne, sir," answered the man in the lead. "We're fire team Able, Charlie Company, Second Battalion Army Rangers. Heard you could use some backup with this situation."

The police officer gave him a quizzical look. "Who called you guys in?"

"Someone on the inside. Where exactly is the classroom?"

"Southern lawn, second floor. Have a look at the map here."

Staff Sergeant Rosethorne studied the map for a moment, before, "nearest tree cover is four hundred meters away."

"You got a plan for that?"

"Right here on our backs, sir," he said, motioning to the rifle bags slung over their shoulders.

*************

So, here we sit scared, up against the wall. Elena and I are separated by little more than a freshly dead body. The four men have already killed six of our class, including the professor. Two of the men are keeping watch over us, the hostages. The other two are across the room, near the window--with Catherine.

One man holds a gun to Catherine's head, and the other...is forcing himself on her. The bearded man slams into her again and again. Her screams of pain fill the room, but the bearded one couldn't care less. The screams spur him onto his second orgasm.

Before he finishes, Catherine's screams have stopped. The man with the gun put her life to an unceremonious end. This makes seven dead. I'm disgusted with what I'm seeing, what I've watched for over two hours. But moreso, I'm disgusted with myself. I'm slouching on the concrete, a scared kid with no way to put an end to this madness.

The tall one zeroes in on Elena, and my heart begins to race. I hated the men for killing the seven they had, but I think I would rather die than see them violate her. The tall one lifts Elena by her collar, and removes her winter coat.

"Please, you can't do this," Elena begins to plead, the tears for her fallen classmates renewed for her own mortality.

"Now what makes you think that we can't? Didn't we just get done with seven other broads?"

Elena stays quiet, save for her tears and whimpers. I refuse to.

"Listen to her, don't do it," I say with as much authority as I can muster, attempting to stand.

"Shut the hell up, kid," he remarks as he kicks me back off my feet, and continues to disrobe Elena. "But then, maybe the kid's right. Maybe I won't take this one," he says slyly, as he pauses just short of removing her blouse.

"Whaddaya mean, boss," Asked the bearded one after putting Catherine with the other dead. "Wasn't she the one that decided it, that we'd do this class, I mean?"

"Shut up, you mook. I know that. I just thought that mister brave here might like it better," the tall one said, draping Elena face-down on a desk. "What's your name, punk?"

My bravery building, I responded, "I'm Creekmount High School Student 623236; Senior Class Treasurer. And who are you?"

"Arrogant punk...I said your name, not your piece of shit title!"

"It's customary to give one's name before asking another's."

"You can just call me Matthew for now," he said. "This one's Mark, and that one's Luke, and he's John."

The man with the beard, the one they called Mark piped in, "They're not our real names you see. They're the names of--"

"It doesn't matter what the names are from.! Jesus, it's like dealing with fucking kids."

Elena and I couldn't help but laugh in spite of our situation as our captors continued to argue. Matthew finally noticed us and remembered his previous thought.

"Enough," Matthew said, ending the quarrel. "You," he said, pointing a handgun at Elena's temple. "What is Mr. Arrogance's name?"

"Al-Alphonse," she said, going limp with fear.

"You two know each other?"

"He's a good friend of mine, and--"

"That's enough. John, get her ready; over there by the windows. Go," ordered Matthew, as his cohort wrestled Elena over another desk at the far window. Matthew then knelt down close to me, and motioned me close. As leaned towards him, I was immediately stricken with his foul scent.

"So you two are friends, yeah?"

"Good friends, yes."

Matthew cast an offhand glance towards Elena. "Not too bad looking' either, eh? Don't think I didn't see you looking yesterday with the basketball, and the jumping, and the shorts."

I knew what the man meant. Elena was, to me, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I doubted I would ever find another girl as witty or ravishing as her. After that morning's walk, I had it in my mind that I should try dating her.

"Yes, she's...an amazing girl. I've grown much attached, I'd say."

"How 'bout you say that a little louder, so she can hear it. Hey John, turn her over here."

I was embarrassed to even spill my emotions to this criminal, and practically turned white in the face once Elena turned to face me. The one whom they called John had draped her torso over a desk facing me, her hands behind her back. Her breath was heavy, and her eyes seemed distant. In this position, she seemed so fragile. This was the essence which Elena's wit and knowledge enshrouded. This was the true Elena Wallcroft.

Eventually, after seeing her so vulnerable, I spoke to her, saying, "You're an amazing girl. I've grown much attached to you, Elena."

Elena's eyes sparked from within, shining right towards me, their emerald hue refracting without tears. I could tell she knew my true feelings. Our eyes locked for the second time that day, and for a moment, I forgave my captors; they made this beautiful moment possible.

"Bet you'd like to fuck her eh?"

I fell from grace. Our eyes displayed twin expressions of shock and panic. I tried to rally my bravery yet again. "Why me? Why Elena," I asked.

"Well, John's all tuckered out from his last one, Mark and Luke are keeping watch over the rest of your friends, and I'm the guy asking you if you want to stick in that hot piece of ass on the desk over there."

The beautiful moment was tarnished. What must Elena have been thinking? That I'm a filthy pervert who'd profess false love to a girl and then screw her to please a bunch of criminals? That I would enjoy every second of it? That I...had planned this?

No! Not this, not to the woman I love. I could never defile her in such a way. At that moment, our eyes locked for the third time, with looks of dread and uncertainty. Seeing her like this, I couldn't let it happen. My expression changed; determined and strong.

I stood from the wall, and faced the one they called Matthew. "I wouldn't hurt her in such a way. I couldn't betray the friendship, the bond we share."

"Well," Matthew responded, "How about you get over here and give us a good show, or Elena here starts losing skin." He walked over to Elena and removed what was left of her blouse. He pulled out a large knife and slit the front of her bra, setting her breasts into vision. "Maybe we'll start here," Matthew remarked.

I started to walk towards him, telling him, "Leave her alone. You won't lay another finger on her, or any of our classmates. You people are the lowest of the low! You do whatever you want to us, knowing that we can't do a damned thing because you'll kill our friends if we do!"

Elena looked up. "Alphonse," she said weakly, before turning her gaze away.

"Shut up and screw the broad, kid," said the one called Mark, from across the room.

"I'm not a kid. You think that I'll let my hormones cloud my judgment, making a decision that I could never live with? I'd rather die than live with myself, knowing how much I hurt Elena."

"Well then," said Matthew, "maybe we can arrange that. If you really don't want the girl, maybe we can trade. The girl, Elena, goes free, right after you die."

At that moment, I faltered for a moment. Did I want to die? Or did I want to have sex? Elena was half-naked in front of me, her breasts perky and slightly upturned, her lips parted ever so slightly, so lush and kissable. But I shook myself from this reverie.

"Albrecht, you said that if I ever needed your help, you would help me. I just hope that this is what you were waiting for."

"What the hell are you talking about, kid?"

"If I die, you all shoot me at once. Gather round the window. I want to see the lawns while I die."

"So you choose death," Matthew quizzed, "Alright: John, Give the girl her clothes. She can leave once this punk's on the floor. We'll put this fucker's brains on the windows."

I walked calmly past Elena, past Matthew, and towards the windows, and looked across the vast lawns that surrounded the school. The grass was bleached by winter's cold and dry, and the woods were so far away.

I turned around, and came face to face with four shining chrome gun barrels. "You know what these are, kid," Matthew asked with a murderous gleam in his smile.

"Those look like 357 magnum revolvers."

"Good enough," He said, sticking the barrel, cold at first, under my chin. "Now, listen up. After you're dead, I'm going to have the girl myself. In fact, we'll all have her. I just wanted you to know, lest you go dying with a sense of accomplishment."

I tried to come up with something witty, but found nothing. These were my last breaths. I turned and saw Elena, and gave her what smile I could muster. This time, I avoided. Humor: "Thank you, my classmates. Elena...Goodbye, Elena." I shot the four men a glare. "And as for you four,"

"Get on with it," Matthew said.

"Try not to miss."

I closed my eyes as I heard the four hammers pulled back. Elena and the few remaining classmates watched as the four men took point-blank aim; two to my right, and two to my left, at the window.

*************

"Windage, adjust three clicks right. Elevation's four clicks up. Looking good, remember we only get one try. Fire on my mark. Three, two, one, Mark."

*************

The glass shattered, and the four foul men slouched to the floor with a deadweight thud. And a high-pitched, cracking echo rang accross the lawn. I shuddered, the hot spashes of blood painting my cheeks. I felt like screaming, but I couldn't make a sound. Such destruction should be accompanied by a huge sound, but I couldn't make one.

"Alphonse," Elena said, trying to stand. I turned to her, my eyes wide with the shock of what had happened. Albrecht had done his job; had saved all of us. I put my hand to the side of my face, smearing the blood over my chin and forehead. I pulled my hand back and stared at the thick red fluid.

"Alphonse, are you alright," a voice called from outside.

I fell to my knees as a metallic clang came from the window. There were four hooks on the ledge. "Brother," I said, turning to the window. Four men climbed in the window from the hooklines, clad in a grey-green digital camouflage.

"The U.S. Army?" Elena asked, looking at the four men as they stood in a line.

Our classmates gradually stood up as I obliged the group, "genltemen, introductions?"

"I'm Sergeant Gibalev."

"Name's Prvate First Class Manstir"

"Peterson. Corporal."

"Staff Sergeant Albrecht Rosethorne, acting Fire Team Leader."

Elena looked confused, and I waited for her to connect the dots in her mind. She finally spoke, "Rose...thorne? Rosethorne? It can't be..."

I responded, introducing again, the last of the four. "Elena Wallcroft, this is my brother, Albrecht Rosethorne."

"I think I need to sit down for a moment," Elena said, slumping to the floor.

"I was just about pissing myself scared, Albrecht," I remarked. "I'm sorry I couldn't get them over to the window sooner. If I had, Catherine might still be..."

"Don't blame yourself, Alphonse. For now, just try to focus on standing."

"Still, I'm sure glad you came when you did."

"Hmm," he said, running his hand through the close trimmed hair, stained with the mud of lying in wait. "Gibalev, see what you can do. Help out the EMTs."

I went to Elena, who still looked dazed and confused. Gibalev made his rounds, but Elena and I walked out of the room, refusing medical treatment and a ride to the hosptial. We left through the doors and out to the lawns. She walked beside me, as we had that morning. My winter coat surrounded her, and she clung to it, it being the only warmth she had.

"Alphonse," she said, pausing in her stride.

"Yes, Elena?"

"About before, you wanted to die. You said that you would rather have died than to hurt me...To do those things to me."

"Yes, and I meant what I said."

Elena's eyes began to birth tears as she cast her gaze downwards. "Did you...did you only say that because..."

"Because why?"

"Did you only say that...Because you knew your brother would save us?"