Chapter Text
The splatter was spectacular, globs of the viscous clung to Gallagher’s chest and half his face. Undaunted, Gallagher continued speeding after them. He lifted a hand to wipe the goop off his face, only to have it smear further over his eyes and nose and adhere to his hand and arm for his troubles.
Wyatt watched expectantly. When nothing more happened, he turned to Ryan. “Was that it?!”
“Give it a moment; it's gotta heat up!” Ryan’s mouth broke into a wicked grin which he brandished at Gallagher. Gallagher had long enough to register the incongruity of Ryan’s expression, and or the first time, he looked uncertain. But it was too late; the globs of goo were smoking.
The smoke was slight, little more than whisps that Gallagher disregarded. But those slight trails quickly grew into thicker tendrils of white smoke. Soon Gallagher was coughing as the smog billowed over him.
Wyatt opened his mouth, but Ryan halted him with a single raised finger. “Wait for it,” he promised. Seconds later, the large patch of goop on Gallagher’s chest suddenly and violently kindled into sparks. The ignition set off a chain reaction that quickly spread down Gallagher’s arm and up his neck, engulfing his cheek.
At first, Gallagher ignored the flame, treating it much like the wound on his leg, as a nuisance. That didn’t last long.
His face contorted into a mien of torment. Gallagher began to beat at his skin, but the fire only spread further, growing more vicious. Gallagher’s steps began to falter as more and more of his attention was drawn away from his pursuit and into curbing the rising tide of flame.
Ryan’s better-than-human senses ensured him a front-row seat. The flame burned white-hot, tearing at Gallagher’s body like a swarm of vermin. Gallagher’s durable skin resisted at first. But the inferno only grew hungrier. It looked like a time-lapse of a log consumed by fire. Skin blackened and cracked as the fire tore it away. The tissue sizzled as it burned. It sounded like a steak being pan-seared or fried in boiling oil. But the worst, the worst by far, was the stench. It was fetid, much worse than a burned steak, almost sulfurous.
Ryan took in a deep breath.
The smoke thickened enough to flood the entirety of the road behind them. A blood-chilling howl erupted from Gallagher’s throat as his flesh bubbled off him. In his last seconds of sanity, Gallagher’s remaining eye locked one last baleful glare at Ryan before the pain became all-encompassing.
Ryan’s grin widened. He waved his silent goodbye.
Now nearly half engulfed in white fire, Gallagher finally collapsed to the ground. His velocity caused him to tumble along the road for several yards before skidding to a halt. The smoke enveloped him as if it were alive, closing over its victim in a maw of obscuring cloud.
Ryan had time enough to watch Gallagher lift his head in another primal roar. It ended in a pathetic choked gurgle. The smell of acrid smoke and burned flesh was soon all they could make out of their mad pursuer.
Everyone in the truck stared gobsmacked. Everyone that is except Ryan. He let himself relax onto his back, sighing with intense satisfaction. He looked up at the sky, folding his arms behind his head. He probably shouldn’t be getting so much joy at Gallagher’s end, but he was. By god, he was.
***
“What the hell was that?” Ben asked him once they’d made it out of the winding gravel and onto a real, paved road. The sky was several shades of pink, fusing with the yellow of the ascending sunrise.
Ryan sat up with deliberate leisure. He couldn’t seem to wipe the smug grin off his face. “White phosphorus.”
“What?” Elliott asked.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Didn’t any of you ever pay attention in class? White phosphorus: it’s highly combustible when exposed to air. It only needs to be at around 86 Fahrenheit to ignite, and Gallagher’s body temperature had to be running at least 20 degrees above that.”
Wyatt nodded solemnly. “Burns at near 5,000 degrees, hot enough to harm one of us. It adheres to skin and clothes, emits thick toxic gas that can also cover our escape.” He regarded Ryan with a level, almost wary, gaze. “How did you know?”
Ryan tapped his temple. “Everything burns if you get it hot enough. Even synthetic polymer tissues aren’t immune to basic chemistry. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
Wyatt nodded, though not with any enthusiasm. “Yeah.”
Ryan didn’t care. All he could feel was supreme satisfaction. Justice had been done; for him, for Marshall, and for all the students Gallagher hurt. Ryan climbed to his feet and leaned against the truck cab, elbows on the metal roof, chin held high. He let the cool morning air sweep back his hair. It blew off the last of the dust from his body, removing the final traces of that place from him. Ryan looked upon the highway before them as gold bands of sunlight broke the horizon, bathing him in their radiance and promise of freedom.
There was still a lot to do; Ryan rested his hand against the side of his large shifting belly. The lives inside him wiggled as if responding to his own feelings. Ryan’s grin faltered; his time as their home was drawing to an end. He'd done it, he was free and soon they'd be cut out of him. But this time the thought didn't bring the same assurance. The hard-edged certainty he'd felt about how to deal with them, suddenly seemed less appealing.
Ryan shook his head before turning and smiling at his band of runaways. They’d done it! The rusty truck sped along the highway, leaving their school behind in its wake.
- The End
... for now