Through gritted teeth, Kyran felt the sting.
His upper cheek, bled a bit, tiny droplets forming around a few edges of the superficial nick.
Still, it bothered Kyran. All he'd wanted was to push her back, keep the distance between the two of them, knock her over. There was no way he'd be outrun by her. Somehow though, she had been able to reach over and carve into his face. A clean diagonal swipe.
It wasn't much, but any higher and he'd need an eye-patch for the remainder of his time. Any closer and he'd have a broken cheekbone.
On impulse, fueled by the bodily instinct of hurt and indignation, Kyran opted not to be so gentlemanly as this girl's partner was. His pushback was more focused, stronger now, as he zeroed in to her. The light near the entrance made it clear who Chop Susie really was. Dark skin, flowing black hair, Indian heritage. This was Saachi Nidal, he would have never thought she had it in her to be a killer.
Despite the thought, Kyran shoved the flat surface of the garden tool, into her center mass, forcing her to stumble backwards with no free will of her own, through the open entrance. Perhaps she had been too proud over the handy-work she'd done upon his cheek to keep up the concentration. A second time he shoved, with more power, causing Saachi to buckle. He was faster, more physically able. He flipped the garden tool over, onto the other end like a baseball bat and swung the wooden handle. Now back home, Kyran's position on the team was more of an outfielder, but right at the moment he felt like he'd made a home run once he felt that splintered crack.
He dropped the ho.
Saachi and tentatively, Jay, an assumption from the mere knowledge of seeing that flash of red-orange hair, had immediately introduced Kyran to the realities of this situation. They went along with it, just like those people who held their field trip hostage wanted. Probably a dozen more like them. There had to be others here, others who hadn't fallen into this trap of kill or be killed. He couldn't be the only one. He'd have to find them.
With that, he sprinted pass, jumping over Saachi's prone being, bags tucked between his arm and rib side to increase his speed. A wide-receiver with his ball, making his way to the endzone except the endzone was far beyond the horizon.
Yeah, this wasn't a game.
[[Kyran Dean Continued To: Septic