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(Slacking off from essaying cont.)

The boy who had burned his eye had just started calling out for help when the campus police came rushing through the crowd, helping the few people of station who had been trying to disperse the curious students. A few officers came forward to meet the group but there was a loud crack and the door behind them went flying off with flames consuming it. The girl managed to gaze a peek behind them to view a man in a grey business suit. The only impressions she could gather of him is that he was thin and tall, with pale short-clipped blonde hair. He wore glasses that covered translucent blue eyes that seemed to shine with wickedness (whether awesome or frightful she wasn't sure - maybe both). The girl had seen all this because she was the only one who had remained still, in shock, as the door had gone flying past them.
"Run!" said the other girl to her, pulling her arm. The girl was only aware of loud shouts of confusion, the police pointing guns to the man and the surge of bodies that erupted in every direction to escape. Because of their position, their group of six were the only ones to run outside in a panic like frightened deer; led by the left-handed boy they all were orderly and purposeful. They made their way down a steep hill that made most of them tumble frantically until finally reaching the bottom, swallowed up by the forest below.
There they lay in silence, some, like the girl, in completely awkward positions. She had tumbled through a large bush and landed on a fallen tree. The consequences were stinging scratches and a sore back, but for the most part she was lucky. All around her came the moans of the others, a gasp here and there of pain. Each of them were breathing hoarsely, most except for the left-handed boy took time to look over their wounds. The burnt-eye boy was proding his wound and his face was contorting quickly into horror. In moments, she felt, they would all erupt into panic.
The left-handed boy looked at her steadily, he had been crouching and peering around, possibly taking in their surroundings. His left arm was tucked safely on his lap while the other kept him steady on the ground.
"Name?" he asked her, his olive skin was smudged with dirt and his close-cut hair had leaves in them. His face, as she had noticed was usual, was serious. He wore the clothes of a fashionable Eurpoean young man, with a graphic t-shirt and well-fitting jeans (versus the type that fell to some boys knees). He had some facial hair, and to her looked like the equivilant of a (possibly?) Spainish David Beckham. Being of a wholly American ancestory (for as far back as that could go) she neither had the ability, nor care, to idenitify his ethic background. She identified him by his crooked mouth that always seemed to frown and his mysterious dark brown eyes. If they caused any effect on her then it was merely a feeling of intense inferiority; confidence radiated from him.
"Alexis," she said slowly, finding that her throat was hoarse. Just speaking had brought tears to her eyes.
Whatever he thought of the name wasn't evident - as for herself, she felt the need to always have an excuse for it - It was the name of my mom's Grandma - as if anyone would care. For the most part, they didn't, and of all times now wouldn't be the time to, anyway.
"David," he told her, and quickly looked on to everyone else. (Alexis was left wondering at the fact that he looked so much like the soccer player) "You guys?"
"What - what is off with you?" the burnt guy erupted; he then spouted aggressive words with no substance - just anger and shock. His voice was rising.
"Shut up," David said sternly, brow crossing. "Do you want them to hear?"
He shut up, lowering his hand from his face. What they saw wasn't pretty - puss and delicate, pink skin molded together over his eyelid. As for Alexis, she was quite close to throwing up. The others might have felt the same because they turned white.
"Hear?" the burnt one demanded. "We were so close to the police - they were handling things. And instead we took off into the woods - why? How should I..." Again he was feverishly panicking, the girl with a disturbed look rose and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Johnathan please!" she told him with a shaky voice, "Get a hold of yourself!"
One other boy with tear and mud streaks down his face attempted to argue reason, "I think we should go back, John needs to...you know, see someone."
"What's your name?" David asked him.
"Felix," he said slowly, unsure.
"Felix you may do that but as for myself, I am staying right here. Call me a coward but whatever just happened there was no act of a terrorist. There was no bomb. What I saw was a man who could make fire pop out of his hand as if he were from a comic or something. If you guys want to deal with that, be my guest. As for me, I'm getting out of here."
"What?" the last boy, chubby but harmless-looking asked, "Are you sure? Tha-that..." he could not continue, every word he gulped down what Alexis assumed was fear.
"I saw what I saw," he responded with closed eyes, and quickly opened them.
It suddenly dawned on Alexis, "Let's call an ambulance," she said quickly, "tell them to meet us..." Alexis found herself slowing down, her words coming out like stones, impossible to pass through her lips. Her body drooped, and she noticed with intense fear that the others were also sinking to the ground, apparently asleep or unconcious.
Desperatly she tried to stay awake, her body swaying no matter how hard she fought.
"This one...up...fight...her out."
A blurred figure approached, but before it could compelte its orders she collapsed to the ground, the effects that had overcome the others finally pushing her to the edge.