Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (31 page)

It turned, giving Maggie a full view of one
of the heads. It had creepy, glowing, silver slits for eyes, an
enormous mouth and gleaming, long, sharp, dripping fangs that
gnashed wildly at the hazy air.

The thing hadn’t seen her yet, and she most
definitely did not want it to see her—ever! She was next to a large
outcropping of rocks, behind which she swiftly ducked. She glanced
around the edge of the rocks and watched in horror as a small,
furry animal darted out from behind a shrub at the edge of the
forest. It twittered about for a bit, but then noticed the monster
and froze in its tracks.

The beast sniffed the air, reared up on its
hind legs, and one of its snake-like heads swayed backward.
Suddenly, as fast as a bolt of lightning, it plunged toward the
little animal and snatched it with its twisted fangs.

It threw the furry creature—which was
shrieking and thrashing—high into the air and as the tiny animal
fell, the beast's jaws snapped on it ferociously, and the shrieking
silenced.

Maggie panted, trying not to panic. She was
still attempting to convince herself that none of this was really
happening.

Cold beads of sweat formed on her forehead
and upper lip. She wanted to cry. She wanted to go home. “Someone,”
she pleaded quietly, “please . . . please help me!”

Suddenly, a cloaked man burst out from the
trees, yelling wildly, and running full-force at the beast. Maggie
jumped and slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her
scream.

The animal lunged at the man and one of the
powerful jaws snapped loudly, narrowly missing his leg.

Maggie gasped and tried to get herself
further behind the rocks, but she failed to see a large tree root
that was sticking up out of the ground next to her. As she pulled
herself back, she lost her balance and fell over the root, landing
with a thud on the wet meadow—right out in the open.

At once, the beast froze. It turned its
heads away from the cloaked man and stared across the field. Both
heads lowered and sniffed the ground, and then four evil, silver
eyes locked their gaze directly on Maggie.

Maggie’s heart pounded so
hard, it felt like it was going to burst through her chest. She
couldn't catch her breath. She felt like every muscle was being
stabbed by hot, sharp needles. Multiple thoughts twisted
frantically around in her head, tangling together and piling one on
top of another. “Oh, no,” she whimpered,
“I’m dead!”

The creature let out another deafening
screech. It took two or three slow, deliberate steps toward Maggie,
and then broke out into a full, thunderous run across the
field.

Every inch of her felt heavy. She tried, but
couldn't move. It was as though her mind and her body had
disconnected. She just lay on the warm, dank grass, watching as the
monster came closer and closer.

“Get up! Run! Run! What’s wrong with you?
Ruunnnn!” The cloaked man chased quickly behind the animal, yelling
loudly and waving his hands frantically. “Are you crazy? Run!” He
raised a gloved arm out in front of himself and shot what looked
like long, golden spikes at the rapidly-moving creature.

Several of the spikes glanced off the
monster's back, which slowed it down a little, giving Maggie time
to finally snap out of her horrified trance. Quickly, she sprang to
her feet and started running—hoping to put as much space between
her and the animal as possible.

But the situation was only getting worse.
She didn't know where she was, so she didn't know where to go.

The rocks wouldn't hide her anymore and it
looked as though were the only shelter at all on this side of the
field. Additionally, the beast was heading right toward them. The
only other cover in sight was the spooky forest across the field,
but running toward impending doom didn’t seem like a good option
either.

The beast was approaching rapidly.

The man kept up his attempts to slow it down
with the spikes, but they didn’t seem to be having an effect any
longer.

Maggie heard the monster behind her, and
within just a few short seconds, its hot breath was blasting down
on the back of her neck.

Instantly, she stopped running and dropped
to the ground, curling into a ball. The creature was caught so off
guard, that it flew right over her—one of its back legs barely
missing her head. She jumped back to her feet. The beast stopped
and swung around in front of her and a dripping, fanged mouth
bulleted towards her.

Maggie jumped to one side, narrowly escaping
its bite as the other head screeched and bolted toward her in the
same way as the first. She lunged just as it snapped dangerously
close to her right shoulder.

Both heads were now weaving and swaying
above her.

She turned to face the beast and realized
that it had her right where it wanted. The heads were poised on
either side of her—in perfect striking position.

She froze—too panic-stricken to think of
anything else to do—and waited for her untimely death.

“What are you doing?” The cloaked man yelled
from the middle of the field. “Moooooovve!”

But she couldn't. She just stared at the
massive, glimmering heads weaving and swaying high above her, and
waited. The creature hissed and then roared loudly again; its
stale, hot breath exploded across her face and blasted through her
hair. Her eyes shifted from one head to the other, but, the rest of
her stayed frozen in place.

“Oh please
. . .
I'm dead! This is
it! C
ome on body! Please . . . MOVE!”
Blinding tears welled in her eyes. “Please . . . .” she whimpered
out loud.

Both of the monster's heads reared
back—their slit-like eyes glinting in the harsh starlight. Maggie
watched as they began their deadly descent, straight towards
her.

Time seemed to slow.

“Move!” The man’s voice echoed somewhere in
the distance.

The only thing Maggie could hear clearly was
her own pounding heart.

The beast's heads weaved downward—their
silver, pupil-less eyes wide as their razor-sharp fangs came closer
and closer. One of the heads was now only inches away from her—and
its jaws were spreading wide.

Finally, and without a second to spare,
instinct took over. She bent to the side, almost folding completely
in half, and then twisted around so fast that her legs left the
ground and pushed her skyward into a perfectly graceful aerial. She
flipped in the air, dropped, and rolled across the ground.

One of the monster's heads grazed across her
back as she rolled, cutting a long gash in her shirt.

Time zipped back to normal as an
ear-splitting, earth-shaking thud sounded behind her, followed by a
deafening shriek. She looked back, expecting to see the thing
coming toward her again, but it wasn't. It was pounding its
enormous hooves wildly on the ground, and bellowing.

It staggered a bit, back and forth, shrieked
again, and then dropped hard—sending up a thick cloud of
dust—landing right next to where Maggie had stopped rolling.

Quickly, she scrambled backwards to get away
from the gigantic scaly animal before its next strike, but oddly,
it didn't appear to be moving. It just laid still and quiet in the
damp grass.

She scooted back a few more feet, and as she
did, what had happened became clear.

Her flip had caused the monster to miss her
and instead bite one of its own heads clean off. The creature was
dead—its severed head thrashing and flopping uncontrollably across
the ground.

“That was unbelievable!
Amazing! Unbelievable!” the man yelled as he ran toward her, his
black cloak billowing largely behind him. “Are you all right?” He
held out a gloved arm and helped her to her feet. “I've never seen
anyone escape a rynolt like that!
Amazing!
” he repeated.

What she saw next almost knocked her back to
the ground. She lifted her head and found herself face to face with
arguably the most beautiful man she’d ever set eyes on.

“Whoa,” she breathed, and stumbled
clumsily.

He was an absolute Adonis—at least
six-foot-four, muscular and strong. Dark, wavy hair hung down and
rested on his broad shoulders, framing his square, chiseled jaw. As
if all of this wasn’t enough, his eyes were completely
intoxicating. Maggie couldn’t tell for sure what color they
were—only that they were dark—but little flecks of bright red
sparkled and flashed across them in the starlight.

As the stranger looked at Maggie, a
breathtaking, knee-shaking, glistening white smile grew across his
handsome face. He bowed and then lowered down on one knee.

“Your Highness. Please forgive me. I didn't
realize . . . What an honor this is for me!”

“Wha?” Maggie was more than a little
stunned.

“You are all right, aren't you? How may I be
of service, Highness?” He stayed on his knee, but looked up into
Maggie’s eyes—awaiting her command.

She was panting heavily, and not just
because of the ordeal she had just been through with the freaky
two-headed thing. “Wha . . . I mean . . . um . . . who are you?”
she stammered, feeling stupid that she couldn't think of anything
to say.

He stood up and looked deep into her
eyes.

Her cheeks burned and her heart pounded.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I am . . . .”

But before the handsome
stranger could finish, there was a sudden whoosh, a flash of blue
light, and a loud
crack!
Maggie was instantly—and quite unwillingly—yanked
back to the stone steps of Glenhill High School.

"W
ait!” Maggie bellowed angrily. “No! No!
Nooooo!
” She dropped down onto the
darkened school steps and buried her head in her hands. “You gotta
be kidding me! This is so totally unfair!” she cried.

Just then, she heard the clunking and
clattering of her dad’s old sedan, followed by Nathan's frantic,
shrieking voice. “Maggie! There you are! Finally! Good grief! Where
have you been?

She looked up to see her dad sprinting
toward her with a wild and terrified look on his face. He reached
the steps so quickly that she wasn’t sure how he’d done it. He
grabbed a hold of her and hugged and kissed the top of her head
repeatedly.

“Da-ad!” She wriggled out of his clutches.
“What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean, what am
I doing,” he yelled loudly. “I’ve been looking for you for
over
three
hours!”

“What?” She knew she shouldn’t be surprised,
but she was nonetheless.

“Three hours,” he repeated. “Where've you
been?” He eyed her disheveled and tattered appearance and added,
“And what the devil have you been doing?”

“Dad, I . . .” She brushed a clump of mud
from her ripped T-shirt and fussed with her damp, half-fallen-out
ponytail. She couldn’t tell him. He’d never believe it. “I . . . I
was . . . um, with some friends. I’m sorry. I musta lost track of
time!”

“You lost . . . I can't
belie . . .
what?
” Nathan’s face was red with rage. “You told me to pick you
up here! I came to pick you up, and you were
nowhere!
Now I find you looking like
you've been beaten and all you can say is ‘I lost track of time’?”
He ran his hand through his floppy hair. “How in the world did you
end up looking like this anyway?” He asked, motioning toward her
dirty, wet clothing.

Maggie glanced down at her mud-covered
jeans. “I . . . uh . . . well . . . we were . . . um. We were just
. . . you know, wrestling around on the lawn,” she stammered.

“Wrestling?” Nathan
grimaced. “And who exactly is this
we
you were wrestling with?” His
tone was interrogatory. “You and a girl friend . . . or you and
a
boy
f
riend?”

“Oh, yikes! Come on, Dad!” Maggie protested,
“Girls, dad! Really! I . . . I was with Lorrine and Bridgette.”

Nathan's furious
expression softened a little. “Lorrine and Bridgette?” he repeated.
“Hmm, Lorrine and . . . uh, Bridgette?” Suddenly, he looked very
angry again. “Then how do you explain the fact that
Bridgette has been with me since 4:30? She's been
helping me search for you!
”

Maggie sighed disgustedly. She'd been
caught, but instead of feeling the slightest bit apologetic, she
was mad. She had been through so much in one day, including almost
being killed by some freakish animal, and then, just when something
nice happened, it was yanked away before it could even get started!
Now, to be caught lying to her dad, only because he would never
believe the truth? It all seemed to be so below-the-belt, and it
made her mad!

“Fine, Dad,” she snapped, “whatever! Why
don't you just punish me and get it over with!”

Nathan glared at her. He didn’t want to let
on that he was incredibly relieved that she was okay. “Oh, I'm
gonna punish you all right.” He pointed emphatically at the car.
“March, young lady! We’ll discuss this when we get home!”

“Fine!” She stomped across the lawn,
snatched up her book bag from where she had left it laying, and
headed for the still-idling sedan. She practically ripped the car
door off as she opened it, and then plopped down into the seat and
yanked the door back shut with a slam.

The ride home was very tense. Neither of
them made a sound. He just drove, and she just stared out the
window, fuming.

It's not my fault!
She consoled her nagging conscience;
I didn't choose to disappear for three hours! And
what am I supposed to do? Worry him even more with all this crazy
junk?