cry and threw myself at his legs. Kate’s boyfriend, Aaron, had actually spent a week trying to teach me how to play football until we’d both conceded that it was a lost cause. I’m just not physically adept at anything that doesn’t involve pretend bladed weaponry—and I’m okay with that. But I did remember the general theory behind a good tackle: it’s much easier to attack the legs than the body. If you grab the body, your target can break your grip. But if you entangle your target’s legs, he’s going down.
I knew all these things, but I was still surprised when Tobias actually
went
down. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and locked my hands together, and he toppled forward. I was doubly surprised when my hands slipped and his heel slammed into the bridge of my nose.
As a martial arts enthusiast, I’ve taken my fair share of blows to the nose. It even got broken once when Calamity and I were sparring and I let my guard down. But it’s not somethingyou can exactly prepare for. Bright lights flashed before my eyes and my vision swam with tears as Tobias’s foot made contact with my face; it felt like my sinuses and my brainstem were occupying the same space. These things combined made it very difficult to restrain the lunatic with the firearm. He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck like he was a sanity-impaired mama cat and I was the naughtiest kitten in the litter and dragged me toward the front door. The tips of my toes trailed across the threadbare carpet, but at least I wasn’t choking. My sleeves dug uncomfortably into my armpits as he pulled me down the trailer steps.
Fighting back would have been a good idea, but I couldn’t get my eyes to focus. I knew from experience that the crying bit would last for about a minute or so and then I’d be okay. I closed my eyes and waited it out. Tears ran down my face, but I wasn’t one of those never-cry-in-public guys, so I didn’t care too much. Tobias hadn’t started shooting or shouting, so it seemed like the girls must have found a hiding spot. I certainly couldn’t see them. The clearing was just one big green blur that we were crossing at a high rate of speed.
I’d just managed to blink my eyesight back into focus when Tobias shoved me forward. The sudden motion caught me completely off guard, and I threw my hands up instinctively to protect my face. They got there just in time; I slammed into a chain link fence and fell to the hard-packed dirt underneath.
I didn’t need to hear the clang to tell me what I already knew: Tobias had locked me in one of the cages.
“Hey!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet and ignoring the link-induced pain in my hands. “You can’t do this!”
Tobias walked away with the rifle slung over his shoulder, still carrying on that one-sided conversation. I caught a glimpse of his face and wished I hadn’t. He looked ready to shoot something, and I could only hope that it wasn’t going to be me or one of the girls.
What kind of thought was that? I felt like biffing myself over the head with one of my swords. Sir Talatien wouldn’t just give up, and neither would I. He’d evaluate his resources, make a plan to save the day, and retire with a cold mug of mead afterward. I’d do the same,except with Mountain Dew. (I’d tried mead once, and it tasted like fermented shoe leather.)
First, I’d have to evaluate
my
resources. My sword had fallen out of my bandolier during the scuffle, and I had to admit that most of the other stuff I was carrying was useless. I had a compass, a Sharpie, a bit of twine, a couple of Band-Aids, a granola bar, and a bunch of props. Captivity isn’t exactly the best appetite stimulant, but I knew I had to keep my energy up if I wanted to get out of this mess. So I munched on the granola and tried to come up with an escape plan that involved tea-dyed scrolls and plastic gems. No luck. No surprise either.
I looked around at my surroundings. I was being held captive in a tall cage; I
Learning to Kill: Stories