S.M.A.R.T. (The Subject of Mind Altering Research and Testing)

Chapter Three

A body thudded to the dirt without a word. Still pupils stared lifeless at a dirt ceiling, while reflexes twitched and seized, and a drop fell into a left eye, staining it red. Black pooled, and the last ounces of a life twitched onto a cold mud floor.

The older man lowered the cloth on his face down below his chin, exposing his scarred and face. Michael was shaking. What the hell just happened? The older guard knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What is going on? Who are you?" Michael asked, vibrating hard. He couldn't believe it, he was still alive.

"This is a rescue mission. I'm taking you out of here." The man with the gun said. Thoughts of Sheila and Jane ran through Michael's mind again, but this time he could almost hear them, taste Jane's lip gloss, and hear Shielas's laugh. I had better not be dreaming, or dead. Maybe I'm dead. Maybe I just don't know it. He pinched himself just to make sure; he was alive.

Michael barely recognized his rescuers face at first. He was an American military General who had been in charge of a chemical weapons project he had heard about years before. What is he doing out on a high-risk mission? The two had never formally met, but Michael was glad to meet him now, no matter how horrible his eyes looked. The man leaned in, and started in proper english this time.

"Get yourself together, fool. We aren't out of here yet." He snapped at him.

Michael didn't know how to respond. Everything had happened so fast. He clenched his fists, and took a deep breath to re-gain his composure. He gave the man a look of appreciation and stood up. "What do we do now?" He asked.

"We try to make it to the end of another day. Follow my orders, and don't fuck up. You can ask questions later. Put on that dead bastard's uniform. Do it as fast as possible, and then follow me. Let me do the talking if your don't want to get us killed."

Michael followed his orders directly. There were a hundred questions on his mind but it wasn't the time to ask them now. He stripped off his fouled prisoners rags, and replaced them with the clothes of the younger guard who had just been killed. The blood was still warm, and stuck to his skin as he slid them on. He didn't fit into them as well as the dead guard had. The uniform looked baggy and loose on him, and he couldn't help wondering how the hell this man's plan was ever going to work.

"Somebody probably heard the shots. When we get out there, hold your side where that second shot went through, and act like you're injured." The General said.

The General didn't waste any time once Michael was finished getting dressed. He opened the door of the room and left, checking the halls beforehand. Michael looked back at the room that he was certain he would die in just minutes earlier, and the naked man lying dead on the damp floor in his place. He felt a moment of remorse for him. The dead bastard. Before turning to follow the General into the tunnels.

Michael held the side of his uniform where the second gunshot had grazed and feigned a limp as they walked. They checked each turn before making it, trying to stay unnoticed if possible. Michael was trying to imagine how the General had pulled it off so far. He figured that the younger guard must have been very new recruits if he did not even recognize the eyes or voice of his superior. Still, he did try to argue.

There were a thousand questions, and no time to ask them. I'm being rescued and taken home to my family, and that's all that matters to me.

Two minutes later they heard hurried footsteps coming towards them. Neither of them panicked, they were seasoned in combat and trained to keep their composure. They kept walking at a quick pace, and three guards ran around the corner moments later, guns raised towards them.