Read Online Strike by D J MacHale - Free Book Online Page A

Bova.
    “They’re just using us to threaten everybody else,” he added.
    I looked to Bova.
    The commander stood on top of the other jeep with his arms folded across his chest. He seemed intrigued by this new development.
    The guards hadn’t moved, though they kept stealing glances at Bova, expecting him to do something.
    The circle of prisoners pulled in a bit tighter, as if drawn to the drama that was playing out.
    “Yeah, so?” Kent called out between pained breaths.
    “We’re all going to die here,” the guy called back. “I don’t want to do it for their entertainment. I’d rather make a stand.”
    Kent glanced up to the guards who stood over him in the jeep.
    They didn’t budge.
    He looked over to Bova.
    Bova gave him a shrug as if to say, “Don’t look at me. This is your fight.”
    I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want either of these guys to kill the other. But if they refused to fight, would Bova kill them both? After what I’d seen him do to the prisoner who tried to steal water, I didn’t doubt it.
    Though there were hundreds of people watching the drama, it was so deathly quiet in that clearing that I could hear the heavy breathing from both fighters.
    Kent did a slow scan of the circle of prisoners who were all staring at him. He was looking for help. Or at least some sign that he wasn’t in this alone.
    He didn’t get any.
    The dark-haired guy slowly pulled himself to his feet.
    “What do you say?” he called out. “Are we going to die with dignity? Or for their entertainment?”
    Kent took a deep breath, let go of the jeep, and stood up tall.
    “Alright,” he called out. “I’m done.” He backed away from the jeep while looking up at the guards who loomed above him. “This is bull. If we’re going to die, you’ve got to kill us. We’re not going to put on a show for you.”
    A concerned murmur went through the crowd. Nobody called out or cheered. It was more a muted sigh of relief, but it was the first sign of life I’d seen from the prisoners. It proved that they hadn’t given up yet, and it gave me a small hint of hope.
    I couldn’t have been any more proud of my friend. I dreaded to think of what might happen to him because of his stand, but he had shown something I’d never seen from him before.
    Courage.
    Kent turned his back on the guards and walked slowly toward the crowd, limping. He was hurt but didn’t let that stop his show of defiance.
    The dark-haired guy walked toward the jeep.
    I expected Bova to shout out a warning to them, but none came. He watched them both with a cautious yet amused eye.
    The short prisoner made it to the jeep. He stopped there and then, with one quick and surprising move, he reached inside and pulled out a dark piece of metal that looked like a heavy crowbar or a piece of pipe.
    Before the guards could react, the guy took off running . . . after Kent.
    Kent was still turned away from him. He had no idea.
    The people in the crowd barely had time to react. A few people called out, “Look out!” and “No!”
    Too late.
    The guy jumped Kent and swung the bar around his neck. The two fell to the ground as the guy jammed his knee into Kent’s back for leverage while pulling the bar back against his throat.
    I reacted without thinking.
    I jumped from the crowd and ran for them.
    Kent grabbed at the bar, desperate to relieve the lethal pressure. It was futile. The guy was about to crush his windpipe. He had seconds to live . . . unless I could get to him first.
    The guy’s back was to me, which gave me an extra few seconds. When I got to within a few yards I threw myself at him, nailing his back with my shoulder. If it hurt me, I didn’t feel it. I was too charged up to care. The guy grunted and went limp for a brief moment, just long enough for him to drop the metal pipe and release Kent.
    He tensed back up quickly and the fight was now between the two of us. We rolled in a jumble of arms and legs, each thrashing to get away