*Woah, sorry about leaving you in suspense, I just had to :D (DE JA VU ALERT!) I do it a lot you see....:3
Anyway, a lot happens in this chapter, so you might wanna try and keep up :P just to warn you ;)
Well you probably want to read it so I'll cut to the chase now :D
-meeeaaaahh*
THE LIGHT
Jammed. The Firedart jammed. Firedarts never jam. Ever. I lie there, trying to work out a way to escape while the tough keeper above me swears and tries to fix the weapon. There is now no one in the room except me, him, and another keeper. They sure cleared the hall fast. The other keeper comes up to him, a new Firedart on his hand, pointing at me. Damn it. Just as my luck was beginning to improve.
ZIP THWAK. The bullet buries into the black clothing of the tough keeper. His screams echo around the hall as he lies there writhing on the floor. What? The keeper that shot him takes of the crying man’s balaclava, balls it up and stuffs it in his mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The keeper that saved me drags me up by my shoulder.
“Come with me, and hurry.” The keeper whispers in my ear, the voice raspy and raw. But to my surprise, the sound coming from the keeper’s mouth is the voice of a girl.
I submissively let the female keeper drag me to the back entrance of the hall, leading to the keepers’ quarters. Wait, the keepers’ quarters? Is she going to hand me in? Somehow I doubt it. Why save my life one moment and then give me up to the keepers the next? We rush through the quarters; I thank my lucky stars that it’s empty. We race through a shower and locker room, into a changing room. The girl sits me down on a bench while she fiddles with the lock on a cupboard door. In five seconds, it’s open, and she’s retrieving some folded up uniform.
“Wear this.” She instructs. I dress myself obediently, used to the fact I was getting dressed in front of a total stranger; we have to do it all the time here. Suddenly, a nearby mirror catches my eye. It had been a long time since I’d seen myself. My grimy face looks traumatized; my eyes that were once beautiful are full of permanent terror. My dark brown hair, wild and matted, frames the expression I have seen on every other prisoner stuck in this hellhole. I look just like the others.
“Quick, put your balaclava on!” The girl whispers hurriedly. Once I’ve pulled on the stuffy black mask, she hastily hands me an Electro-gun. My hands tremble. I have never held a complete, real live weapon before. About the length of a man’s forearm, the sleek, polished metal of the gun curves into the shape of a large pistol. The figure of it is designed to fit on any arm perfectly. I can feel the electricity charging, buzzing through the firearm, as I run my hand along the smooth, metallic surface.
I awake from my trance at the sound of speedy footsteps rushing down the corridor. My heart starts to hammer, and I throw a frightened look at the girl who brought me here. Her eyes are calm under her balaclava, and so is her voice. “Follow my lead.” She mumbles under her breath.
“Hey, you!” yells a voice. I turn around to face a young, sturdy keeper. “What are you doing here? We’re meant to be looking for the escapee!”
“We were instructed to check the quarters. The escapee is no where to be found.” My companion pipes up.
There is a pause as the boy acknowledges what has been said, staring into the girl’s eyes.
“The boss wants us in the meeting room, now.” He instructs.
“We haven’t checked the living rooms yet, we-“
YOU ARE READING
Death Camp
Horror"I still remember the days when I could talk. I remember a lot of things. That's all life is to me now, memories. They rush around my head, too many to control. But the memories that stand out the most, as if they were mangled scars on the skin of m...
