"Complete strangers had sacrificed themselves so that I, the Immune, reach a safe place where my boon could be used to save the humanity. All WICKED wants is to help people survive. So, if we can save millions, shouldn't we? Is it too much to ask?"
...
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ADELAIDE
“Found you just paralyzed on the floor, screaming your lungs our like a lunatic you always were.” Janson smirks peering over me. “I knew it would have to happen someday.”
Janson licks his lips and tilts his head. “Being the oldest Semi-Immune comes with disadvantages and these hallucinations that you’re having, will only increase in intensity as you grow older, until you finally snap and kill yourself.”
A doctor comes to my other side. She looks at me with a hardened gaze as she tightens my restrains.
“But we don’t have to worry about you killing yourself. I'm sure you will do that on your own.”
“We have finally found a kind of Cure. It’s not actually the Cure that we are looking for, but it will suffice our immediate needs.” The doctor says. “And of course, the Semi Immunes are the answers or, in short, you are the answer.”
Janson is just about to speak again when a blaring alarm erupts throughout the building.
My heart lurches and relief floods my system. It has to be either Lawrence or Lucifer and my friends.
The door swings open and I turns just in time to see a frantic-looking woman announce, “A Berg arrived with a delivery, but it was a trick to get people inside—they’re trying to take over the main building this very second.”
Janson’s response almost stops my heart.
“Looks like we need to hurry and get this procedure started. Christensen, put her under.”
🗡️🏹🗡️
My chest constricts and my throat seems to swell. Everything was on the line, but I am frozen.
Janson barks orders. “Dr. Christensen, quickly. Who knows what these people are up to, but we can’t waste a second now. I’ll go tell operating personnel to stand their ground, no matter what.”
“Wait,” I croak helplessly, “Don’t you dare do this!”
Janson’s face burns red. Instead of answering, he turns to the doctor. “Do whatever it takes to open this bitch up.”
Just as I open my mouth to speak, something sharp prick my arm, sending jolts of heat through my body, and I collapse limply onto the gurney.
From my neck down I am paralyzed.
Terror flares inside me.
The doctor or Dr. Christensen leans over me and passed a spent syringe to a nurse.
“I’m really sorry, kid. We have to do this.”
I can only move my head slightly from side to side, but that is all.
The sudden turn of events overwhelms me, sending me into a spiral of terror.
I don’t know what in the world they’re gonna do with me, but it is not gonna be good.
My gut lurches as I realize that I might die. Unless somehow the my friends got to me immediately, I might be dying.
Janson steps into my view.
“I’m gonna kill you, Janson.” I hiss with venom.
Nodding approvingly, Janson ignores me and pat the doctor on the shoulder.
“Get it done.” He walks away. I can hear someone shouting in the hallway before the door closed.
“I just need to run a few tests,” Dr. Christensen explains. “Then we’ll get you into the operating room.” She turns to fiddle with some instruments behind me.
“Wha-What are you gonna do with me?”
The doctor looks at me and raises her eyebrows. “Your brain is the most exotic thing in the medical history. It has the ability to survive perfectly and over- averagely with the Flare Virus still rooted deep in the Killzone. So, we need the your brain.”
It feels like the lady spoke to me from a hundred miles away.
I lay helpless, my mind spinning as the doctor took blood, measures the circumference of my skull.
The lady works in silence, barely blinking, yet the beads of sweat on her forehead shows that she is racing against who-knew-what.
“Ho-how can you.... do this to m-me? Let..me go..” I groan.
I close my eyes.
Did the weapons-disabling thingy did it’s job? Have they got Minho out?
How is Newt?
Was it really possible that WICKED almost had somewhat of a cure?
Will it save Newt?
When the doctor again came to me, I stop her. “This cure....will it save a ...crank?”
The doctor blinks at me, maybe figuring out his answers.
“It should.” He replies before leaving again.
I force myself to breathe evenly.
If..If I die, will Newt live? What if he lives?
What if all he needs is this cure?
What if I can save him?
The doctor suddenly straightens and grins at me. “I believe we’re ready. We’ll wheel you to the operating room now.”
The lady walks through the door and my gurney is rolled into the hallways.
Unable to move, I lay staring up at the blurry lights in the ceiling flashing by.
No, no they won’t. It’s WICKED. They don’t care about us, they don’t care about Newt.
They don’t give the cure to him. I will die, but I won’t be able to save him.
Focusing on my last strength, I try to move my limbs, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed from neck down. I can’t feel my body.
