Youthanasia

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Youthanasia

iUniverse, Inc.

Chapter One

Gloria Diamond closed her laptop, and the 100-inch video display in the classroom's front corner went dark. She rose from her chair, smoothed her blue linen skirt, and walked around in front of the desk. The eyes of a dozen students-seniors at Teller Academy-followed her.

Connor Bright, seated in the third row, watched with detached interest. But he knew that his nearby buddies, Blake Warren and Victor Mendez, were breathlessly anticipating the teacher's next move.

Miss Diamond-the pretty 22-year-old redhead that had recently joined the academy faculty-did not disappoint. She hiked her skirt and slid back on top of the desk front. Her high-heeled feet came up from the floor, and she crossed her legs. She leaned back, placing her hands behind her. With seemingly deliberate provocation, her breasts thrust upward. The top button of the white cotton blouse seemed ready to pop.

Then she spoke.

But Connor Bright wasn't listening.

He glanced to his left and noted that Blake wasn't listening either ... at least not with his ears. Gazing unblinking at the young history teacher, Blake's lips were parted. He didn't seem to be breathing.

Connor smiled and shifted his gaze back to the lovely Miss Diamond. He wondered how Victor was doing. After all, Miss Diamondhad been giving Victor private lessons.

Lucky dude! he thought. Turning to his right, he sought out Victor, seated one row back.

But he didn't expect to be looking directly into the disdainful green eyes of Sally Nolan, seated directly to his right. She threw Connor a rebuking glance. No words were necessary.

Sally knew about Victor and Miss Diamond. Connor couldn't keep a secret from Sally.

He smirked and sneaked a glance at Victor. What he saw sucked the breath from his lungs.

Instead of beholding a horny, moonstruck eighteen-year-old, he watched incredulously as Victor Mendez slipped his hand inside his dark blue blazer ... and pulled out a shiny snub-nosed revolver.

Connor opened his mouth to shout. But before any words could form, he saw the revolver kick back, and he heard a deafening crack!

Twisting his head toward the front of the room, he saw the frozen face of Miss Diamond. Her eyes were wide. She looked puzzled.

But there, just above her left breast, was a dark red spot, growing quickly.

A second loud crack rocked the room. Miss Diamond jerked backward as the second round pierced her brain. Blood splattered behind her onto the electronic white board.

Connor lunged instinctively to his right. He grasped Sally's arm and dragged her crashing to the floor. He covered her with his body, while she shrieked and tugged at the short skirt that had flared to her waist.

He twisted his head to look back at Victor. What he saw instead was the black hole of the revolver's snub nose-pointed at Connor's head.

"I warned you!" Victor cried.

He heard the metallic scraping of the revolver's firing action as Victor squeezed the trigger. There was another loud bang.

Then the world went away.

Chapter Two

The seductive sounds of the Crescent City Blues Band slowly penetrated his fog-filled brain. The music volume increased slowly at first, then exponentially.

The blues melody reached a pounding crescendo. Connor thought his head would burst. Then he woke up.

Eyes wide open now, he glanced at the blinking bedside device. He reached out and slapped at the source of his current misery.

Instantly, the music bombarding the inside of his skull ceased, and he peered at Blake's bed on the other side of the room.

Nothing but twisted blankets.

Then, suddenly, the tragic events flashed before his eyes. He sat up and shuddered. Miss Diamond was dead. Shot to death in her classroom.

His head began to throb, and he gingerly lifted a hand to his right temple. The fingers detected a large bandage.

What happened? he wondered. He had expected to be dead.

He remembered Victor pointing the revolver and firing. Connor pressed lightly on the bandage. Oh yeah ... pain! How am I still alive? But what about Sally? He gasped audibly.

Flipping the blanket off, he leaped out of bed. Big mistake! His head pounded, and he grabbed the headboard to avoid collapsing.

He went to the open window of their second floor room. There, as always, were the tall pine trees that separated the male and female dormitories. Through the north clearing he could see the main quadrangle of Teller Academy. There, at the southeast corner of Fermi Hall, was Miss Diamond's classroom.

Direct sunlight had not yet crept over the 1500-foot ridge to the east, but Connor saw nothing amiss. No police cars. No crime scene tape. Nothing stirring.

It was just the beginning of another beautiful fall day in the coastal mountains of California. The scent of pine needles distilled by the morning dew wafted through the open window.

This isn't right! he thought.

He turned and stumbled toward the closed bathroom door. Sounds of the running shower passed through the door. He knocked, but there was no reply.

Connor needed to talk to Blake. He tried the handle, and the door opened.

The sight of his reflection in the mirror was a shock. Framed by dark circles, the brown eyes were bloodshot. The perpetually ruddy skin covering his cheekbones had turned pale. The wavy black hair stood out like he had stuck a finger in a wall socket. And the sight of a large bandage on one side corroborated the pain he felt in his head.

Peeking around the corner, he saw steam escaping from the glass-doored shower stall. The steam did little to conceal the tall, blond-haired athlete soaking up hot spray with eyes closed.

Connor cried out, "Blake!" His startled roommate recoiled and opened his eyes.

"Connor! What the hell-" Blake turned off the water and grabbed a large towel. He stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around him. "How long you been awake?" he asked. Using one end of the towel, he began to dry his hair.

Connor ignored the question. "Is Sally OK? What about Victor? And Miss Diamond? I don't-"

"Whoa! Hold on," said Blake, edging closer. He examined the bandage on Connor's head. "How do you feel?"

"Got a friggin' headache. Answer my questions."

"OK ... OK ... Victor's got a couple broken teeth. He'll live. Sally? Hell, I don't know. And Miss Diamond? You havin' wet dreams, pal?"

Connor shook his head but flinched at the pain. "He shot her! Miss Diamond!" He saw the frown. "And Sally ... I shoved her on the floor. That's the last I remember."

Blake shot a puzzled glance and backed away. He tossed his towel on the floor and turned deliberate attention toward slipping on a pair of boxer shorts.

Then he smirked and put a hand on Connor's shoulder. "You'd better sit down, dude. You're delusional."

Connor brushed the hand from his shoulder, angry at Blake's lack of concern. But the throbbing in his head struck him silent.

"Look," Blake continued. "Don't you remember banging heads with Victor yesterday? The touch football game?"

Connor started to shake his head, but the pain wouldn't let him. He growled, "Noooo. Damn it! History class. Victor shot Miss Diamond, twice. Then he shot me."

Blake's steel gray eyes bored into Connor for a moment. Then he shook his head. "You had a concussion, my friend. Maybe a bad dream too."

"I wasn't dreaming," he protested. "Sally was there. You, too."

"Look, pal, let's get you back in bed. Then we'll talk about it. If you want, I'll call Sally."

Connor's brain rejected Blake's words, but his knees buckled. Blake grabbed him and helped him back to bed. Connor felt consciousness slipping away. But he managed to mumble, "Why ... why ... are you ... lying?"

Chapter Three

"What the hell's going on?" the man bellowed. "The Fountain Project's going up in smoke!" Big yellow teeth clamped down on a thick cigar, while his bushy gray eyebrows formed a menacing furrow. Dark eyes glared across his desk at the seated Dunston Burrows, the President's Chief-of-staff.

Burrows had known the meeting would be contentious-the kind of crisis the administration counted on him to handle. The man across the desk headed the most powerful lobby in Washington. And he was pissed.

Burrows responded calmly. "Nothing's going to blow up. We've got-"

"Bullshit! It's out of control," the man barked. "If we don't fix it quick, we're shut down, do you understand? Tick, tock, Burrows. Get off your skinny old ass!"

Ignoring the man's allusion to his advanced age and frail physique, Burrows stared over his rimless spectacles and raised a bony hand, palm out. "It's being handled."

The angry man sniffed and clamped down on the cigar, glaring at Burrows.

Burrows continued. "I'm in touch with Headmaster Crane. They've extracted the asset we're most concerned about." He smirked. "He did well, but went too far."

The large man scoffed. "Went too far? Unacceptable! And the other one is a loose cannon ... what's his name ... Bright?"

"Connor Bright will be eliminated."

The man wagged his shiny, bald head. "All because they lost control of that slut teacher."

Burrows' curiosity was piqued. "How do you know so much about the assets at Teller Academy?"

Shifting the cigar in his mouth, the man snarled, "I knew that redheaded bitch-Gloria. Hell, I told the Headmaster-Crane-she'd be trouble."

"How did you-"

"Never mind. That's between me and Crane," the man growled. "He needed a sexy broad for this set-up, and he picked her from one of the other academies. Let's just say I auditioned her."

The man sat back and puffed on his cigar. "By the way, Burrows, how many academies do we have now? Thirty? Forty?"

"Three."

"Oh, only three?" he chided. "And you wonder how I know what's going on? Damn it, Burrows! Do you know how much I've invested in this project?"

"I know you're frustrated," he said. "But we're on track. It'll happen."

The bald head wagged. "I bankrolled the Fountain Project for ten years. Paid for the basic research. Now that it's about to pay off, everything's going to hell!"

Leaning forward in his chair, Burrows asked, "What can I do to assure you it's under control?"

"Wipe it out," the man snapped.

Dropping back as if he had been punched, Burrows stammered, "Wh ... What?"

"Our assets have gone to shit at Teller Academy," the man growled. "Don't know why. Don't care. You know the protocol. Make it all go away!"

Chapter Four

"Connor? You awake?" Sally asked. The voice was soothing, but the pale green eyes were troubled.

Sally's straight auburn hair brushed his cheek. Connor felt the warmth of her body seated on the side of his bed, but the hand on his forehead was cool. He looked around. His roommate, Blake, now dressed, was standing at the foot of the bed.

Connor grimaced and grunted.

She removed her hand from his forehead and forced a smile. "Blake tells me you had a rough morning."

He avoided her eyes, focusing instead on her appearance. She was in academy uniform: white cotton blouse, dark blue blazer, matching pleated skirt, white sox and shoes.

But he was looking for something else.

She glanced back at Blake then continued talking to the silent Connor. "Did you think something happened to me? I'm here. I'm OK."

Connor showed no reaction. She frowned and asked, "What did you think happened?"

Finally, he spoke. "I know what happened."

"Blake told me what you said. You must have been dreaming."

"Now you're both lying to me." He started to sit up but felt a sharp pain behind his eyes. His head fell back on the pillow.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"No, damn it!" he muttered. "A bullet bounced off my skull!"

"Connor, cut it out. You're scaring me," she said.

"And you're pissing me off," he snapped. He propped himself up slowly on one elbow, gritting back the pain in his head. He glanced at his silent friend at the foot of the bed. "You, too, Blake."

Blake shook his head and said, "Look, pal, your head hurts. The Doc left some pain pills. Pop a couple, and then we'll talk."

Despite the painful drumbeat inside his skull, Connor persisted. He nudged Sally with his knee. "Tell me what happened."

"I told you-" Blake interjected.

"Shut up, Blake." He looked at Sally.

"I ... I wasn't there," she stammered. "I heard about it."

"OK, what did you hear?"

"You had an accident, you and Victor. The football game, yesterday afternoon, at the north field. You got knocked out."

"What about Victor?"

"He messed up his face. Broke a couple teeth, I understand."

"How long was I out?"

She hunched her shoulders and turned to Blake.

Blake said, "Only a few minutes. We got Doc Wilson out of the infirmary. He patched you up and sent you back here."

Connor glared at him. "I don't remember any of that."

"Doc said you might not."

"Where's Victor?"

Blake shook his head. "He's with his family in San Jose till Monday, I think."

Another lie! thought Connor. Nothing could persuade Victor to spend a weekend with his family.

He switched his gaze back to Sally. "What about Miss Diamond?" he asked. "Have you seen her since ... since our history class?"

"No, but-"

Blake interrupted. "It's Friday. Miss Diamond has no classes today."

Throwing a sharp glance at Blake, he asked, "Since when do instructors get Fridays off?"

Blake simply shrugged.

Planting both hands at his sides, Connor willed himself to sit up, despite his throbbing head. Sally slid to her feet and looked at him with alarm.

"I don't know why you're feeding me this garbage-" Connor winced. His head suddenly felt like a hot lead weight. "You ... you're lying ..."

Sally cried out, "No, Connor-"

"Stop it! Look ... look at your arm, Sally. The bruise where I-" His head felt like it would explode, but he persisted. "And ... and your knees-" He pointed. "They're ... scraped ..."

His words trailed off. The room spun, and he felt himself falling back in slow motion toward his pillow.

He felt nothing, not even pain. Time slowed to a crawl as he observed each tiny movement. He watched Sally move to the bed and reach out for him.

As the back of his head burrowed into the soft pillow, her face came into view above him. His thoughts out-raced the stop-action motion of everything around him.

Then, suddenly, he found himself looking down ... at himself ... at Connor Bright falling back onto the pillow. The eyes were rolling up. The neck muscles were taut.

He panicked. Am I dying? he thought.

He had no physical awareness of his body. He could see it. And he could see Blake and Sally hovering over it.

But Connor Bright was no longer in his own skin!

Chapter Five

Is this a dream? Connor thought.

Here he was, looking down at his body on the bed. It was surreal-a hazy, flat vision. A nightmare!

Blake went to the phone to call Doc Wilson, while Sally gently brushed the feathered dark hair from Connor's forehead and applied a wet towel.

He felt nothing but could hear the chatter between Blake and Sally. He watched their actions, yet his presence above them went undetected. Am I a spirit? he wondered. A ghost? What the hell's going on?

"Doc should be here soon," Blake was saying. "How's my buddy doing?"

"He's breathing," Sally remarked flatly.

Blake chuckled nervously. "I thought he had a harder head."

She shook her head. "I wonder-"

The door burst open, and the short, stout figure of Doctor Clark Wilson charged into the room. The beet-red cheeks beneath the rimless glasses and the frazzled gray hair reflected his hasty journey from the infirmary.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Youthanasia by S.P. Perone Copyright © 2009 by S. P. Perone. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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