Inferno

Chapter 47: Breakout

A/N: THE SHIP IS BACK TOGETHER LET'S GOOOOOO!

They could still hear Janson running after them—so they sprinted as if hell itself was at their feet. And in a way, he was. In the chaos of doctors running and people freaking out, Thomas's focus was split in three different ways.

"Bellamy! Minho!" He yelled, eyes frantically searching through the groups in the hall.

Every hallway they passed, they glanced quickly into it for any sign of Minho or Bellamy. A soldier turned down the hallway towards them and Thomas's eyes widened. "Shit!"

"Freeze!"

Thomas and Newt took aim at the oncoming soldiers, bullets hitting their mark. They pressed onwards, still yelling for Minho and Bellamy.

Meanwhile, Bellamy found herself being roused from the operating table. There was a soldier looming over her, grasping her tightly by the hair. Bellamy let out a shriek of pain as she was torn off of the operating table.

The doctors frantically spoke with the soldiers, but it was just mindless background sound in her mind.

"She could bleed out like this—"

But something was happening. She knew it.

Her legs buckled underneath her weight and she felt out of it. She felt as though she was swimming in some sort of jello or lead pool—every muscle in her body was screaming but in the chaos of the lights flashing and alarm sounding loudly—Bellamy's eyes locked onto a bloody knife on the operating table.

In the midst of the chaos, Bellamy grabbed onto it and slipped it in between her handcuffs. But that wasn't all she grabbed—the nearest vial of her blood, Immune Enzymes isolated. In her threadbare tank top and black pants—both of which were ripped—Bellamy's body was shivering madly with fever and pain.

She was hauled to her bare feet and forced to begin walking. But every step was as if she were stepping into knives—hot coals were pressed into her feet and every step forward was pure and total agony.

Soldiers were flanking her as they escorted—or rather, forcefully dragged her from the lab—some kind of fluid, presumably blood, was still dripping down her stomach. Tears slipped out of her eyes and everything felt as though it was in slow motion.

They dragged her by the arms and hair and Bellamy couldn't even really move, let alone have the will to fight back.

But in the midst of all of this, Bellamy realized that the alarms were blaring for a reason. That she was being moved and flanked for a reason. Her body felt like lead as she was dragged and Bellamy's gaze looked through the strands of hair in her face—desperately searching for the people she hoped were there.

Because if the alarms were going off and bullets were sounding, that was for a reason. That was for a reason and she knew that inherently as well as she knew her own name. Bellamy just needed her moment.

Some kind of explosion sounded a few hallways away and Bellamy took that as her chance. She went totally limp, hitting the ground harshly. One of the soldiers grabbed at her and that was when she struck.

The knife she was holding was shoved upwards into his throat—blood splattering all over her face as he let out a gasp. He fell on top of her and she shoved him off of her, gaze darkening as she looked at the soldiers.

She rolled into a standing position, stabbing straight into the femoral artery of the nearest soldier. He gave a gasp of horror and pain and Bellamy spun, slashing through his throat. A soldier grabbed at her and she dodged the hit—slamming his gun upwards.