Am I Dead?

Chapter 8

Benjamin Smith: "What are you doing, Evelyn?! Run! Run!"

Without a second thought, Benjamin scooped up Evelyn in his arms, his heart pounding in his chest. They dashed toward the car, weaving through the panicked crowd. His mind raced, focused on getting his family to safety.

Benjamin: "Go, take Evelyn! I'll join you later," he urged his wife, his voice trembling with urgency.

Just as she hurriedly got into the car, he turned to leave. But then—

Evelyn (softly): "Dad... I'm responsible for all this."

Benjamin froze. He could feel his stomach drop. "What? Evelyn, not now, sweetheart. We'll talk about it later."

Evelyn (desperate): "Dad, please listen! You can ask Sir Sarthak Borse, he—"

Benjamin (interrupting): "Wait, what name did you say?"

Evelyn's eyes lit up, oblivious to the danger surrounding them. "Mr. Sarthak Borse! He's a clown. He gave me a flower and told me to tear each petal. And every time I did... a huge noise came from somewhere."

Benjamin's heart skipped a beat. "Go! Now!" His voice was sharp, fear cutting through him like a knife. He shoved them toward the car, glancing around frantically. "I'll stay. There are people who need my help. We'll talk later."

As his family drove off, Benjamin's mind raced. Sarthak Borse... Why would Evelyn mention him now? How does she even know him?

As his wife and daughter drove away, Benjamin ran back into the mall to continue helping others. His mind raced. Sarthak Borse... The name kept echoing in his head, chilling him to the core.

Amidst the chaos inside the mall, Benjamin Smith was a force of nature, helping people escape, carrying the injured to safety, calling the authorities to check for more bombs. The sirens wailed in the distance, but the danger wasn't over yet.

Suddenly, all the televisions in Hudson Yards lit up, broadcasting a chilling video on the big screen where the blast hadn't occurred. The mall quieted as everyone turned to watch.

In a dimly lit room, a man's body slumped against the cold concrete floor, his wrists bound tightly behind his back. His breath was shallow, ragged. Water dripped steadily in the background, echoing through the small space. His eyelids were heavy, each blink a desperate struggle to stay conscious.

Man (hoarsely): "Please... let me sleep..." His voice was barely a whisper, drowned out by the hum of machinery nearby.

The camera zoomed in, revealing the man's bruised face, the blood streaking down his cheeks. Hovering over him was a boy, no more than eighteen, shrouded in shadows.

Boy (coldly): "You know what we want?"

The man whimpered, his thoughts racing, clouded by pain and exhaustion. His mind begged for sleep, for peace, but the boy's presence held him captive in a world of torment.

Boy (smiling): "Stay awake a little longer, and maybe I'll let you rest."

Minutes passed. The man's body trembled with fatigue.

Boy (leaning down): "Sleep, shithead."

The screen flickered, and the image shifted. The man had finally succumbed to unconsciousness, his breath steady, his face almost peaceful as if he had been granted a moment of reprieve.

But then his body jerked. His muscles tensed. His eyes fluttered open, but they weren't seeing—glazed over, locked in terror. He gasped, silently screaming, his body rebelling against him, paralyzed by fear.

The boy stepped into the frame, this time his face visible. It was Siddharth Rathore.

Siddharth: "Siddharth Rathore, reporting. Operation successful, sir. First stage is complete. Now it's Sarthak Sir's turn."

The video ended abruptly.

The crowd stood frozen, horrified by what they had just witnessed. Some people vomited. Others couldn't stop trembling. The silence was deafening.

Benjamin, however, didn't move. His face was void of emotion, completely blank, as if the life had drained out of him.

Benjamin (muttering): "Sarthak and Siddharth... They did this. They killed my son."

He clenched his fists, his entire body shaking with rage. "They set all of this up. They knew I was here. And they're responsible for my son's death."

His voice wavered as the fury built within him. "Sarthak... with his genius... And Siddharth..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing. "I trusted that boy. I brought him into this world. And now... now he's become a monster."

Benjamin's anger consumed him, his thoughts spiraling. "Individually, they're a threat. Together, they're unstoppable. I can't let them do this. Not again. Not to anyone else."

Across the street, a man dressed entirely in black—black hat, black mask—watched the scene from the comfort of his Lexus CT. A sly smile crossed his face as he observed Benjamin from afar.

Man in black (smirking): "Everything's going according to plan. Now what will you do, Benjamin?"

He started his car, driving slowly toward the southern part of New York, satisfied with his handiwork.

At Hudson Yards:

Benjamin stood motionless in the center of the yard, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, tears of rage welling in his eyes.

Benjamin (whispering): "I'll make those bastards pay for my son's death. I swear it. I will avenge you."

Suddenly, a cloud of gas spread through the air. People around him began dropping, one by one, fainting as the gas filled their lungs.

Benjamin struggled to stay upright, fighting the overwhelming urge to collapse. He staggered, his vision blurring, trying to keep his mind clear. But the gas was too strong, his body too weak.

He fell to his knees, the world around him spinning.

Benjamin (gasping): "No... I can't... not yet..."

His vision darkened as his body finally gave in, sinking into unconsciousness.

To be continued...