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OCT 31 & NOV 1, 2149 DAYS FORTY NINE & FIFTY ON THE GROUND
POUNDING FOOTSTEPS HARED AFTER BELLAMY AND DAKOTA FASTER THAN THE WILD THRASHING of their fearful hearts, flashing orange lights beaming through the large plant room. The two took shelter behind a large tank, chests heaving erratically up and down.
Bellamy glanced down at the torch in his hands, mischief and panic stirring through his fevered eyes. Swiftly, he gestured his head towards the open vent they had entered in through; it's grate still propped against the wall. "Go. Get back in the vents and start moving as fast as you can. Do not stop." he cocked his gun. "I'll cover you."
"What?!" she panted, jerking her head back incredulously. "No! I'm not leaving you!"
"I'll be right behind you."
"No, Bellamy I'm not—"
"Dakota." he impatiently grasped onto both of her shoulders, the manic intensity lighting flames in his cocoa-colored eyes; the guards steadily closing in on them. "I am not losing you again. Go. Right now."
Again. The word stung.
She nearly scowled at how harsh his demand had sounded, but the worry coursing through her veins made it impossible to be mad at him. Debilitating fear for his life— oddly not concerned of her own— crept in as she tried to trust that he was a man of his word. That if he said he'd be right behind her, he'd be right behind her. But he had promised her something similar once before, and it had ended exactly the way he vowed it wouldn't.
But she knew he'd made up his mind, and she really had no other choice.
The sound of shots firing rippled through the atmosphere as she took off from behind the tanks, bullets ricocheting against the metal left and right as Bellamy struck one of the men in the shoulder; the man grunting as he crashed to the floor. She wedged herself urgently back into the vents, crawling desperately on all fours through the narrow passageway just as he'd instructed her, only briefly pausing when she heard another petrifying round of bullets ring out among the indistinct shouts; likely ones aimed towards Bellamy. Still, she carried on, speeding up and praying he hadn't been hit.
It wasn't long before she reached an open space with a metal ladder and grated floors, carefully weaseling her way out into it. The second her feet were back on solid ground, a nearby explosion was knocking her off of them again.
She'd been a part of enough detonations at this point to know the drill— the walls would shake, the floor would liquify, the air would be seared, ears would ring, and limbs would be turned into jelly. Every time an explosion occurred even remotely close to where you were, it felt like every atom on this planet was being torn to pieces for the first few disorienting moments.
