Sector 2

Chapter 9

I stumbled into a bar, only now feeling the true fatigue that the fight gave me. I found a free chair and hunched over the smooth countertop. Without receiving any request from me, the bartender slid a small glass of drink towards me. I was too drowsy to reject it, so I took a swig. Unfortunately for me, the beverage was much stronger than what I was used to, and I lost myself in the drunken dream.

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Many, many more hours passed than I realised. When I woke up, it was well into the afternoon and I was in an extremely unfamiliar environment. I was sleeping on a tattered leather couch which reeked of cigarettes and ash. A TV in front of me had been left on omitting the sound, the news on display. Half sprawled over a clattered coffee table was a young woman, sound asleep. Another leaned against the arm of the couch, snoring.

I slowly slid off the couch trying not to not wake up the two strangers. I had no recollection of what happened last night. Although the girls being dressed was a good sign. I tread over crinkled sweaters and empty cans to the kitchen. I noticed my own navy jumper drooping over the edge of one of the stools behind the bench along with – to my dismay – my gun.

When I opened the fridge, all I found were even more cans of beer and leftover takeaway. I peered at the bench from behind the fridge door and spotted a bowl of fruit. I snagged an apple from the bowl and pulled my jumper over my shoulders, checking the pockets. There was a single missed call from Jon at 11:20pm. There should've been more – at least one from this morning. I tried calling him back, but to no avail.

I glanced back at the two sleeping girls; they could've been a couple years older than me. Who knew what we did last night. I grabbed my gun and stepped out the door. Following the hallway to a flight of stairs, I eventually emerged from the entrance of the apartment building.

I took a skateboard leaning vertically against the brick wall of the apartment and used my phone for directions home. Or at least, home in Sector 2.

I finally reached my destination and dashed up the many steps, grasping the thin metal rod that prevented falling down the middle. The door was left unlocked, but it often was anyway. That however did not reassure my suspicions, which turned out to be true.

The room was empty. I couldn't find Jon in the bathroom either. I pulled out my phone and aggressively texted him. Surely, he would've told me something if he left. But moments after I pressed "send," I heard a brief vibration from the bench – where I found his phone. The corner of the device was marked with small cracks that weren't there before. When I tried to open it, something caught my eye. Two miniscule splotches of blood imprinted the floor. There weren't any others, but it was enough.

I cursed under my breath. Then louder and kicked one of the cupboard doors. They took Jon. What was the point of beating Lexie in a fight if I was only going to let her go like that? I swore again and pounded my head with the bottom ridge of my palm.

My phone buzzed and I had received a text from an unsaved number.

If you want him back, you'll meet us at the pyramid tomorrow at 12pm sharp. Any sooner and I can guarantee you that we're shooting him in the head.

I lunged to the window and glared around, searching for prying eyes, only failing to do so. I wrapped my arms around my head and tried to control my rushed breathing, but it seemed that I wasn't succeeding in anything at that moment. It was happening again; I was losing everything.

I was losing him.

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The following twenty-two hours in-between were some of the most gruelling ones I had ever experienced. I had no way of contacting Jon and if I tried to reach him any sooner than the given time, they'd surely kill him. The situation was truly hopeless. They had too much leverage; I was a distraught sitting duck.