Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I wanted something to hold, something to cling to, something that would never let go of me. After I turned eight, I had always thought that sleeping with a little stuffed animal was childish and silly; but right now, all I wanted was to have my little bear, Ben, to hold him close to me and let him catch my tears.

There were times in my life when I cleanly and completely believed that a pain would never cease. A twisting migraine, a lost friend. It would be frozen onto my ever going string of time. The key to my release, the item to shatter that iron illusion... never created. I would sit and think of those wet, black shadows that looped and slithered around the lobes of my mind, then suddenly tightening, suffocating any though of relief.

What was my pain now? No... no.... It wasn’t pain. It was emptiness. Despair. There was a hole I was and forever would be falling through; a hole that swallowed any wisp of hope that might pass by. There was nothing to cling on to; nothing to break my fall. My...my family, the rope which would always bring me back to land... was gone. Though there were the times when I hated every last one of them, they were still the arms in which I wept, the eyes in which I pled, and the hearts where I remained. After twelve moves in my sixteen years, I came to learn that my home was always where my family was. Their smiles were the roof over my head. But now, I didn’t have a home, did I? I was being caged, like a butterfly in a jar. They put twigs and food in my cage and hope they have won... but I shall never be content, I shall never submit.

I was seated under the door, my sleeping bag up around my neck. Cold, biting air entered through a grated vent in the ceiling. A gentle hum emanated from the fridge. The heat from my face attracted my drying blonde locks to stick to my pale skin. My eyes, half closed and weary from crying, gazed at the four glowing, red numbers, silently living in a black box. 1143. Were they staring at me? Or were they just returning my gaze.... More air came in, some air went out, the fridge consumed more energy to live, my lungs expanded and condensed. 1144. Time. It tied us all down with those invisible shackles, but still reminding us that there is always more.

If only I could turn back time and- There was a soft knock on the door. A quick mental debate started up in my head on whether or not I should move from my spot under the door. Shifting even the tiniest inch seemed next to impossible, for all I could see myself doing was putting my head down on the floor so I could rest. Moving also meant getting out of the sleeping bad, something which was quite unfavorable at the moment, due to the chill. Well, I could just move over to the side of the door so the person could come in....

There was a second knock. No, I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction that I broke down, especially if it was that Mr. Frankenstein that I met my first night here. I rolled to my left and managed to just get out of my “bed” before 57 entered. The cold that had rushed through me as I slipped out of my sleeping bag was instantly distinguished as I saw it was 57, and not the Boss or Frankenstein that stood before me. Yet, when I glanced at his calm welcoming eyes, all I wanted to do was to be asleep again. But then, I saw who was standing behind him. It was Quijano.

“Yes?” The word directed at 57 stumbled out of my mouth with a somewhat rude intonation.

57 allowed Q in behind him then moved to close the door. He then looked as if he had forgotten all about why he had come and stood staring at me and my ruined state. I raised my eyebrows.

It wasn’t until Q kicked that back of 57’s boot that he blurted out a nervous, “Uh. Oh right. Miss Jennifer, Q and I need to get you out of here.” He began to look around for any belongings that I might need to bring. “We just learned how Boss had planned to use you,” he continued. “He was going to sacrifice you to get to K88.”

That was sure a wake-up call. Sacrifice me? What? How? Why? What! “But how could he do that? I- I mean, what am I to K88?... Sacrifice? What...?”

“You aren’t worth anything to K88, but you are to Sara.”

“Sara? What do you mean Sara?” My eyes were wide with surprise, anger, and confusion.

“Miss Jennifer, K88 has Sara. We know because he is trying to use Q’s friend to get Quijano to come to him.”

My mouth was agape in astonishment.

“Sara!” I interjected. “Sh- she doesn’t even know that Q is even in the Crew!”

 “Q confirmed to Boss that you two were friends. Boss thought that since K88 knew what you looked like, they wouldn’t kill you on sight. And if you could get in... he could then somehow put a bomb on you and... take care of K88... as well as everyone else in the building.”

“Sara? She probably has no idea what’s happening!” I directed towards Quijano. I twisted my head to 57. “What do we know about Pyro and Chaos? They were protecting Sara. At least, last I heard....”

57 answered with urgency, “We don’t know anything besides Sara was taken. Miss Jennifer, we need to get moving. I was ordered to bring you back to Boss an’ he wouldn’t expect it to take this long. He’ll send the whole Traitor army if we don’t get moving. Is there anything you need, Miss Jennifer?”

My mind was still spinning around, trying to grasp the concept. Oh course the Boss would make me trust them; make me think that I was safe. Yea, give me nice new clothes, clothes with bombs strapped to them.... “Oh, uh yea. Let’s take out those water bottles and MRE’s from the fridge. We don’t know the next time we will be able to stop by a store and buy something without getting bullets in our head.”

57 nodded and headed over to the fridge.

I turned to Q who was staring off, probably thinking of Sara in the hands of his cold-blooded brother. “We’ll get her back Q, I promise.” I managed to say in a somewhat calming voice.

His eyes glanced up at me then back down. His mouth opened and what came out sounded like a whining dog with no air left in its lungs. “Yea....”

My mind buzzed to life again. “Q! You- you can talk! Well, not give a speech or anything, but you can speak!” I looked at the deep cut on his throat. “But I thought the doctors said-“

“’Ey only though’ i’ was perna’ent.” He cut in. “‘t’s ealing,”

I felt like I had just jumped out of bed, and everything had hope again. Before I lost contact with them, Sara had told me how deeply she cared for Quijano, how she began to see that she loved him. Then, Q had told me that he had been growing fonder of her by the day. Since I had discovered this hidden love, I had been worried that Q’s muteness might present a problem. Now, though, I was highly optimistic on the subject.

Now all I had to do was get Sara away from K88 and make sure that Q didn’t try and save her and get himself killed in the process. Just how was I supposed to do all of that?

Well, you first have to get out of here without getting caught or shot, I reminded myself. 57 had finished cleaning the fridge of its contents. There were five water bottles and eleven MRE’s, the twelfth next to the refrigerator with a very unhappy fork stuck into it.

“Ok,” 57 said. “Now how are we supposed to carry all of this while fighting to escape....”

I quickly scanned the room and... aha, there was my answer. “Anyone have a knife or sharp object?”

57 reached behind his back and pulled out a small, but sturdy blade.

“Perfect,” I told him with a smile.

 

 

T1374 tromped down the hall, the everyday nothing going through his mind; probably trying to remember if “J” was before “C” in the alphabet. He and his buddies had a card game going in room A16, somewhere where Boss was sure not to find them. If he discovered these brainless blades of wood weren’t on patrol, he’d most likely take an ear from each of them.

74 was just turning the corner onto the next hall when he heard someone wailing down the other side. Heh, bet it’s probly tha’ kid we picked up couple days back, he thought to himself. Some’un else must be with ‘er if she’s out.... Oh, I’d better look like I’m on patrol. 57 puffed up his chest up, put his hand on his silenced pistol and walked towards the disgruntled teenager.

Damn, she really is a mess. Wonder how Boss is gonna get her ta work.... Oh, it’s 57 and 62 takin’ her. Wait...wut’s 62 doin’ out? When 74 reached the three he asked them the routine question, “Now what here you got?” His eyes searched lazily for any threat.

The mess was yelling something like, “I’ll never work with you MURDERER’s! You killlllllllled my family! Killed themmmmmmmmmmm!” More screeching and howling followed.

“Hey there 74,” 57 replied, trying to keep the girl from scratching at his face. “Just takin’ this piece of trash to Boss.”

It was then that 74 realized that 57 was holding something. “Hey, wut’s that there?” His voice raised to be heard over the wailing. It looked like a part of a-

“MURDERERRRRRR’s!”

-a part of a sleeping bag. Black zippers ran down the side of the red material, the closed end at the bottom. But, it was only about three feet long; 57 was holding the top of it together with his hand.

“This?” 57 said. “Her old clothes. Figured I’d throw ‘em out and while I was at it took part of her sleepin’ bag. Gonna be fun watchin’ her try ta sleep in that thing tonight, eh?”

“Heh, yea.” 74 said absently as he eyed the bag closely. It looked like there was a lot more than some pants and a shirt in there. There was no doubt something bulging out of the side. “Mind if I have a look?”

“Uhh, yea. Why not?” 57 handed the bag over to the patrolman.

Damn, this is heavy. He took his right hand of his weapon to open the bag. Why the hell are there water bottles in- Everything went black.

Quijano, otherwise known as T1562, stood behind the collapsed body, a knife in his hand. The wailing teenager abruptly discontinued her sobs of anger, cleared her throat, and spoke to the man behind the body, “Good job, Q,” her voice still squeaky from crying. “Now we need to get him to the shower room. We’ll lock him in there.”

57 and Q nodded and picked up the unconscious man by the shoulders.

 

 

Three patrolmen were seated comfortably around a table, a deck of cards and around 85 dollars scattered on the surface. “Hey guys, anyone know where 74 is?”

A young man, who could have passed as a Navy Seal, tapped his cards and looked up at his friend. Everyone was silent. “...Don’t think Boss found ‘im, do ye?”

The three men looked up at each other, fear settling into their eyes.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think. Criticism is welcome.

Reviews

[Minki]

I think you're getting better as a writer. There's more detail, and the story moves fluidly. I can feel Jenny's emotions better, and now I'm excited to see whether or not they get out alive.