The Witches of Ravenrook 01

I smash his cheek then his nose, knocking two more of his teeth right out of their settings. As his eyes roll back in his head it is the second guy's turn. His first blow pounds the left side of my ribcage, his second glances off my forearm; there is no third blow. The guy, I now recognize as Paul Bernstein, deflects my left to his chest but catches my right to his throat.

Belatedly he tries to cover up; I palm his face in my right hand and slam the back of his head against the bathroom wall three times. I might have splattered his brains out but Bernadette grabs my knee. She looks terrified and this desire to protect her brings me back to my normal self. This is when the pain sets in but I know I can't let it slow me down yet.

I spin around to see the red-hair twin I had ignored moving to the stall to help her sister that had been thrown in there less than 30 seconds ago. I stride over, grab that one by her elbow, my heart feels like it is gripped by a fist of ice and I have to fight through that to yank her aside. I grab the first one, getting reacquainted with those fire ants, fling her across the room then glare at the second one.

"Give me the damn phone," I snap.

"No," she says softly, devoid of any fear. "You need to sleep," she states clearly, "Go now."

At this moment a description of the six twins may be in order because they are eerily similar except for their hair color. They were around five-three or five-four, very slender with beautiful, if somewhat dispassionate, faces and long hair that reaches their asses – enough to throttle them with. I am much bigger than they are after all.

Anyway, I have no clue why this chick is saying something so patently stupid. If the other twin proves equally nutty I am going to slam their heads together before shaking them like a pair of maracas.

I pull Ms. Negativity into the recently vacated bathroom stall, grab her by the back of her head and despite some feeble resistance, shove her face into the commode down deep. Now she finally shows some emotion – mostly fear. Her sister comes over and is obviously trying to figure out her next move. On the plus side, I'm getting used to this near-crippling pain in both my arms.

Attacking me doesn't seem wise, I have demolished all her accomplices and Bernadette isn't likely to run and get help for her. I raise the one in the toilet up enough so she can gulp some air.

"Give me the damn phone," I repeat. She tries to say something but does manage to shake her head. Back down she goes. This time I hold her there for much longer.

"You are going to kill her," the other twin cautions me as the girl I am holding down begins to thrash around violently.

"Then I'll search her dead body," I snarled at the bitch. Apparently she believed me because she wedges in beside me and retrieves her twin's phone and presses it into my hand.

I let the drowning one up. She collapses onto her knees while her wobbly arms hold her head out of the water.

"Give me your phone too," I order the dry twin.

"I didn't do anything with it," she informs me but I clearly am not interested in what she has to say. She hands her phone over too.

I give one last hate-filled glare to them both then angle back to scoop up Bernadette. She is clearly still in shock but is cognizant enough to cling tightly to me as opposed to trying to push me away. As I pass the twins one last time I grab a towel off the rack and toss it to the drowned rat. "Bernadette, how did they jump you?" I ask once we were away. I know her dorm number because I heard her tell the student I'd gotten to help her move in.

"I...they didn't. They were in my room," Bernadette sobs. "Janet is my roommate. She told me this was some sort of initiation ritual but once I was in the bathroom...they were all there and wanted me to...then you showed up."

I have to come up with a plan quickly.

"Bernadette, we are going to go to your room quickly and let you gather some things before we go to see the Dean of Students and file charges," I explained. "Can you do that?"

"Okay...Richard, do you know why this happened to me?" Bernadette mumbles.

"No clue, but I'm going help you find out," I promise. We raid her room for clothes, toiletries and a few things she says she can't live without before heading down to the first floor to the distant portion reserved for faculty. It takes some insistent knocking to get the Dean of Students, Natalie Harper, to come to the door. Her face flashes form sleepy annoyance to earnest concern.

The first time Bernadette goes through the story, Ms. Harper looks furious then things change. She has the scared freshman repeat her story several times then has me go back over my part in things a few more times. It begins dawning on me that we are well past the point where other educators should be involved and on their way. There is a soft knock at the door, the other four twins glide in sans permission.

"We heard there was a problem so we came to see what we could do to help," the lead blonde twin speaks up.

"That will be all, Richard," Ms. Harper orders me; "you may leave now. I'll deal with this." I look from her to the four other girls then to Bernadette who knows she is in the lion's den.

"Are you mental?" I shout at Harper. "Bernadette just told you that those four's best buddies engineered the attempted rape and you want me to leave her in a room with you and these freaks?"

"That's enough," Harper snaps. "Leave or face disciplinary measures." I am pretty sure Bernadette is going to lose it; the tears are already pooling in her eyes.

"Okay," I nod. "We are going. You five do whatever it is you do." I start heading out hand in hand with my new best friend.

"Don't you dare," Natalie thunders as she strides toward me.

"Bitch," I round on her. "Your authority ended with me the moment you refused to defend one of your students. Do you see the blood on my hands and pants? I'm willing to add a little more if that's what you want."

"Very well," she seethes. "You are expelled. Get out." She doesn't come any closer though.

"Cool," I shrug. "Bernadette and I will be out on the next ferry."

"Ms. Reardon (Bernadette) is not expelled; only you," Harper clarifies.

"I'm going with him," Bernadette insists desperately. I nod then head once more for the door.

One of the black-haired twins gets in my way, baring the door. At least these four have the decency to dress in support of the illusion they've been asleep, attired in night shirts plus bathrobes and cute slippers. Several options are available to me but the only real asset I have at the moment is strength. There are six of them plus at least twenty other students I'd seen in their orbit and now one member of the faculty.

I can see the wheels spinning behind their eyes, those evil twins. There is this absolute confidence about them, as if the rules of physic have changed and only I am ignorant of the fact. They are still working things out when I backhand the obstacle so hard she bounces off the wall next to the door. For a split second I feel an incredible hot flash but then it is gone. The others blink in shock. I lead Bernadette out of the room with Ms. Harper shouting my name.

"What do we do now?" Bernadette asks as we race back up the stairs to my room.

"I'm working on it," I mutter. We deviate from our normal path to swing by the East Tower. I pop a window and confine the two red-haired twins' cell phones to the crashing waves far below. My arm is good enough to clear the narrow bit of the grounds that separate the tower from the cliff side.

I am careful on my final approach to my room because there is every reason to believe that my foes of the evening know where I sleep. I creep into the room, Bernadette behind me, and look around. Two things quickly come to mind; my side of the room has been ransacked and Daniel, my roommate, is pretending to be asleep. I still bring Bernadette in with me because leaving her in the hallway is an even worse option.

I check around to see what is missing – like my phone – and if they have found my secret hiding place – found and looted. This last part is the most disturbing. I sit Bernadette down on the bed and put my hands on her shoulders; she is hanging onto the last threads of her bravery and I admire her for hanging on this long.

"Daniel, you snore when you sleep," I sigh as I turn around to face his bed, his back turned toward me. "Stop playing – who did this?" After ten seconds Daniel rolls over and gives me a rather blank look.

"I don't know," he lies.

"Bullshit; they knew about my hiding place," I accuse. "The only person besides me who knew was you." I walk over to him. "Tell me why? We were friends and now you are acting like I don't exist, or don't matter. What the fuck is going on?"

"You don't matter Richard," Daniel sits up. "If you had two brain cells in your thick skull you would be shutting up and keeping your head down before your turn comes up."

"I'm not sure what that means and I'm arriving at the point where I don't care. Start talking," I demand.

"What are you going to do Richard?" Daniel snorts in amusement. "They have the whole school and you have what; some freshman girl already scared out of her mind? Get over yourself."

"Pack up your shit, give me your key and get out of this room," I state evenly.

"No," Daniel defies me. I shrug, leap on him and we begin to wrestle. It takes about twenty seconds to lock his arm and drag him over to the dresser. I open the drawer, pry his fist open and place it on the open drawer and get ready to slam it shut. The irony is I stopped an upperclassmen from doing this to Daniel our freshman year.

"Your choice Daniel," I growl. "You can haul your shit with two hands or one; either way you are leaving this room." Daniel gives one final effort.

"Okay – okay," he gasps fearfully. I let go of his arm and watch him pack. I even throw out the few pieces he can't carry himself.

"Key," I demand. When he hands it over, I add this final warning. "Don't come back. If I find you in my room I will deal with how fucked up your betrayal is. Dude we were friends and I can't imagine what would make you ignore the fact that a girl was nearly raped, much less help the people who did it."

"They will get you too," Daniel spits back. I hardly care. I re-arrange our dressers so that there is a barrier between Bernadette and I; I feel she needs to be able to change clothing without me gawking. Finally I have to change the sheets on what has been Daniel's bed so she can sleep on clean smelling sheets.

Before I crash I race to the bathroom – the original purpose for me starting on this misadventure is has reasserted its urgency. This time I use the boy's bathroom, pipe squealing be damned. I had drifted off to sleep when I felt a disturbance beside me. Bernadette slipped under my covers, curls up and faces me. It isn't like I haven't broken so many other rules this night anyway. If letting her sleep next to me means she can keep the nightmares at bay, who am I to deny her?

Flames Licking At My Toes

I wake up to Bernadette sucking her thumb and mumbling against me. She is still asleep. I am about to check for my official expulsion notice on-line but someone stole my phone last night. I imagined that some official will hand me a written notice this morning. I nudge Bernadette awake and wait to see what her reaction will be. She starts crying and all I can do is hold her and pat her back.

"It really happened," she weeps. "Oh God, she must be dead and I'm stuck here."

"Well, I think we are getting out of here today," I point out. "That is if you still want to head out with me when I am officially expelled."

"I don't know what I can do," she stiffened. "This place is going to get nuts." Going to get?

"I swear it wasn't like this," I assure her. "How about we go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. I'll stand watch over you while you shower then you do the same for me. It's the men's room but I don't think we want to go back to your restroom, do we?"

"No – no I don't," she nods. Her stomach grumbles. "Maybe we can get some breakfast."

"Yes," I chuckle. "It would be positively rude to deny us food before tossing us out." It is a pretty bad joke but it still is rewarded with Bernadette's smile. We get cleaned up without drama though a few fellas give me odd looks for having girl in the men's showers this early in the semester – this is a college not a monastery after all.

I stop by the Office to get my Expulsion Notice but there is nothing.

"What's the plan now?" Bernadette whispers to me as we leave.

"We get a bite to eat, go back to the office and call for the bus around nine when the station opens," I suggest. "If we are careful we can be out of this madhouse by noon."

Events and conspiracy collided to make an easy exit impossible. As we enter the dining hall the most obvious thing is two male students tied back to back, blindfolded and wearing only their underwear set up on one of the dining tables closest to the door. A sign hangs around their necks which read: 'Insulted the Student Council'.

My first reaction was that the whole school had taken PCP; no one, not even the few instructors in the room, were doing anything to help these two. I have personally always considered the Student Council to be somewhat of a joke. I also considered most of my fellow students to be basically decent people. I also considered violence a poor excuse for conflict resolution until last night at least.

"Order has broken down," Bernadette mutters.

"No, it has been corrupted into something perverse and evil," I countered. "I know most of these people, or thought I did, and I can't imagine them not intervening in this."

"You are going to get involved, aren't you?" Bernadette asked me.

"I'm afraid so," I groan. With Bernadette close behind, I approach the two guys being made an example of.

"Don't," a fearful girl grabs my arm and warns me. "They are waiting for this." Her name is Georgia Norman; she has thin, shoulder cropped black hair; a bit overweight but she was much heavier last year. She is terrified for the three of us, which is more than most people were showing.

"Thanks Georgia," I mouth. I think she is surprised I even know her name – the whole Popular Kid/Geek thing. "Bernadette, jump under the closest table when the fight start and crawl for them." She nods. I don't want her crawling anywhere but I figure she'd try something like that anyway so the least I can do is take away those seconds of indecision so I'm know precisely where she is as she crawls about.

Sure enough, six students rise up from different compass points; all big strong guys and I know all but one of them. Two I would have considered friends yesterday. This morning, I didn't care what their fucking excuse is.

"There are four of them," Bernadette whispers as she tries to give me some space. She doesn't see the two coming up behind us.

"Six; but their general is Mickey Mouse," I sneer. My peripheral vision catches the six bitches scowl my way – they are way too far to have heard my hushed words to Bernadette with the unaided human ear so I am wondering what is going on. As for the whole MM- thing; my Father graduated third in his class at Annapolis – Dad was a renegade; when Vandemeyer men went into service, they went to West Point. Real men fought with mud between their toes, or so I was told.

Dad did a lot of stuff, most of which I knew not to ask about - we are quiet that way. I do know that when his helicopter was shot down in Afghanistan, he wasn't doing a late night grocery run. An unknown compatriot in the Pentagon slipped me the tape the Taliban made of his death. I watch it every few months.

My favorite part is when they cut his middle finger off half way up. While they were laughing at him, he stabbed the jagged bone into the chief interrogator's face. He missed the cocksucker's eye by 'this' much.

They killed him seconds later, which I know was his goal all along. I doubt a physiatrist would have anything good to say about me watching that, but it makes me proud. He got his slice of payback at the end. The only thing that makes me just as proud is a note an old Academy friend of his sent me. 'I went to Arlington to visit your Father's grave. I asked the Captain in charge to see the Vandemeyer grave site to which he responded 'From which war?'

It wouldn't feel natural to a Vandemeyer if we weren't forced to work for it, but military thinkers for millennia have being saying that numbers alone provide no advantage. Mickey Mouse has set things up so that they cannot easily support each other. Sure, I'm surrounded but I was expecting to be surrounded so that provides them no advantage.

I charge, not because I'm some berserker who has lost his mind. I'm running because I want them to run and we are in a cluttered cafeteria with only the guy behind me (the farthest) and the one directly in front (the closest) having an direct line of approach. That boy is expecting a punch; I put a shoulder to his diaphragm, pick him off the ground, spin and hurl him into the next closest guy who thought that jumping up onto the table to get at me is the smartest thing to do.

The guy I've thrown flies sideways into the shins of the guy on the table. Table guy gets flipped so violently forward that he can't get his arms up fast enough to stop his chin from impacting the 110 years old polished mahogany table top with a thunderous strum-thump they hear clear down to the Headmaster's office. The guy I threw can't be in that bad of shape but apparently he's had enough because I don't see him anymore when he falls off the far side of the table.

In armored warfare tactics this is where I turn back and smash another guy and even the odds out some more, but I'm not a tank. Likewise, when I put a foot on a chair and the next on the table to rescue those guys, I haven't lost sight on what's really going on here – they still have a twisted desire to grab Bernadette.

Mickey Mouse should have told everyone to go for Bernadette but she/they didn't. Two go for Bernadette and two come for me. They might as well put lambskin on their heads and bleat like little lambs. I'm not bragging and I'm not Billy Bad-ass. What I am is tough enough to walk into a gay bar on New Year's Eve wearing a ballerina's costume and come out unmolested.

I am not 'Jet Li' enough to take that same tutu, go into a biker bar and expect to face anything but a coroner or major reconstructive surgery by sunrise. The difference is? Know what the hell I can and can't do. I can take the pain and I can dish it out and all too often the fear of the former stops you from doing the latter.

In the balance, I wasn't afraid of them and they were afraid what I could do to them. The only thing that might have helped was massing those people they had left so that they could take courage in their numbers...thus their general was being Mickey Mouse yet again. I caught the third guy on the table top.

I faked a kick; he flinched then tried a kick of his own. I caught his leg mid-calf and before he could recover spun him head over heels off the table and onto the floor. You have to be a stuntman or Action Hero to get up after that.

I had only enough time to rip off the blindfolds, and undo the knot before events overtook me.

"This is all I can do right now," I slid off the table, "Some people here have an appointment with the Sandman." Overly dramatic; sure but right now those two need any thread of hope to hang on to. I take two steps toward the 'last to the last' guy coming my way when I slip on a wet spot on the floor I've totally missed.

Bernadette starts screaming while the dick-head attacking me appears above. I block two kicks with my shins so the guy moves forward and falls on me, fist ready to strike. I block the first strike and hit him as hard as I can in his sternum. I knock him off me – about fifteen feet into the air above me! WTF! He is so high up in the air I am able to spin up to my knees before the dummy hits face-first on the ground where I was on my back only seconds ago.