Young Writers Society

Second Always Comes Last

Traitor 

(25)

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A heroes death is always beautiful. When it comes to heroes in particular, the more gruesome the better. Fire, ash, smoke or steel, if it results in the beautiful blossom of that hero across the world. Scattered for everyone to admire and see. Scattered for the entire world to mourn over.

Although us six boys were not the entire world, at that moment we could have been. We had just relived our wildest moment, and the adrenaline was almost incapacitating. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the single moment as the train replayed across my eyes over and over. It was that moment that I felt we couldn’t have been honouring Sir more.

Although Taylor Ivanov’s death was still not quite as glorious as Sir’s had been, it was a spectacle.

The difference between his death and Sir’s was that Taylor was hit by the front of the oncoming train, and the beast had engulfed him instantly. His limbs had been wrenched apart as he was sucked beneath the tracks, cracking in a tangled mess. What remained of him had been frightfully bright, a red that was almost pink, as skin and muscle had been peeled away by the monster.

Although we would have liked to stay and appreciate the hero longer, we had to flee the crime scene. Not that we had even committed a crime. This work of justice had ultimately been performed by Taylor himself. Everything had gone exceedingly better than perfect. Like a true artist, Taylor had thrown himself in the path of the train in the attempt to push Swanson out of the way.

And he had succeeded.

Daniel was a mess, but a breathing one. Even though there had been little blood from Taylor’s demise, what had been had manage to speckle his shirt. He was blabbering and moaning in a heap on the ground, so in shock of what had just happened before him, that he failed to notice his leg had been twisted so obscurely that the bone could be seen pressing up against the inside of the skin.

For a moment the five of us contemplated leaving Swanson behind. He was a traitor, he had compromised us at the last minute. He had gone against our creed, and Sir’s values. Hundreds of possibilities existed in where he could have spoiled it all. He was a traitor and deserved a traitors fate. He deserved every social consequence for Taylor’s beautiful death, but none of the satisfaction that came with appreciating the beauty that nobody would ever know it was us. But that lead around to be its own problem. Swanson was a traitor, so leaving him here would compromise us all. Chen and I picked him up from either end, and struggled him over our planned escape route. Hutcheon and Nathaniel rushed ahead, while Darany checked the rear. We had to gather ourselves over a thick fence into a backstreet to void crossing back to the station in front of the train and the public eye.

The tracks themselves was shockingly close to the sanctuary, so we didn’t have far to go before reaching home. We stumbled in, checking the coast every direction and bolting the doors behind us.

It was done. It was done.

Taylor was dead.

The only threat to us had finally be eliminated. But...

But another had been generated. Shane and Nathaniel opened the hatch to the basement, and the rest of us hurled Swanson down. He hit the step ladder, yelping out as his bent leg made contact.

‘Stop, please.’

‘Traitor!’ Hutcheon yelled in reply. ‘You deserve none of our sympathy.’

Beauregard laughed, as if Hutcheon had just told a delightful joke, and skipped over to Hutcheons wooden chair, pulling it over to the centre of the room. We heaved Daniel into the seat. His face was wet with his own sweat, and his eyes were dry and red from his own washed out tears. We took a moment to bind him to the chair, using thick strips of fabric we cut from a roll out back, before standing back for several moments of silence save for Daniels soft sobbing.

Everything had happened so quickly. One minute my heart had been full of celebration, yet now it was of uncertainty. Swanson was one of us. He was more than Taylor or Oskar. He was a history boy. And now he was a traitor.

‘Why Dan...?’ Chen’s voice was strained at first. ‘Why did you do this to us?’ His words were answered by an increase in the spluttering, before rasping out a reply.

‘Shane... everyone... look what we are doing? What have we become? We can’t go around causing the deaths of everyone who tries to oppose us.’ His jaw shook and his eyes widened. ‘Oskar was... was understandable in the heat of the moment. But Taylor? He was our role model. He was someone we respected for the two years we knew him. He wasn’t our enemy.’

“Taylor was never our enemy.” I cut across. “Taylor was a hero. He died a hero. His sense of justice for his brother may have resulted in his unfortunate accident. But he is a hero none the less.”

‘He even saved your life!’ Beauregard added.

Cameron had gone red, angry. ‘Taylor was not our enemy. But you are!’ He stated. ‘You are a traitor. A traitor to the history club, and a traitor to Sir.’

‘I’m not...’ Daniel receded. ‘It was a reflect. It all worked out in the end and-’

‘NO!’ Shane suddenly burst out, yelling. ‘I know you, I know you were never cut out for this. You are a traitor through and through. You are a conformer. I know you, you will conform to society as try to /right/ our /wrongs/. There are no wrongs.’

Daniel’s lips wavered. He stared dead centre at Shane, who proceeded only to frown. We moved him forward, still on the chair so that he was positioned opposite Sir himself, starting into the hollow skull behind the eyes he drew himself.

Shane and Cameron held him still as they pulled his twisted leg back into place. Daniel began to scream.

There we left him, screaming in the face of Sir, with the blood of Sir, the heart of Sir. We left him alone with Sir to beg for forgiveness, but even that wouldn’t atone for what he had done.