Shards

chapter 42

Chapter 42:

Shay attacked his robot pals without batting an eyelash. Kyle reached me first, placing his frighteningly large gun against my skull.

“Jaylee...” I heard the pain in his voice. “Why do you have to be so stupid?” He sounded so genuinely sad.

That did it. I was not wrong. I was not stupid. It was him who'd been brainwashed and become everything he hated. I hit him in the neck. His dark brown eyes bulged out of his skull as he clutched his throat. Then, it was an easy matter to wrench his gun from his hands. One of the robots fired, and I just barely jumped to the side. Running backwards, I released a stream of bullets into the room. They all ducked for cover, but I managed to hit a few of them in the vests. I was careful not to aim for their heads, or an unconscious Shay, who lay in the middle of the floor.

I'd almost made it back into the hallway when someone grabbed my shoulders. Before I had time to turn around, a large hand clamped over my mouth and nose. I struggled to lift the gun, but another arm wrapped around my middle, pinning it in place. As the world began to spin, I was filled with an incredible panic. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sure we'd saved Dale, but at what cost? I didn't want to go back there. I couldn't.

Panic filled me, and bit down on the man's hand, thrashing like an animal caught in a trap. The lights in the room blurred together into a blinding haze of white light. Eventually, one of my kicks landed, and my captor doubled over in pain, letting me go but managing to take my gun in the process. It didn't matter; I was free.

Collapsing to the ground, I gasped for air. The world still spun, but I didn't need sight or balance. I was running on instinct. Getting to my feet, I turned to make a run for it, but something smashed into my head.

I collapsed. The light joined together, and I was spinning, falling, falling down. Until my butt made contact with the floor. I tried to look up, but the bright florescent lights hurt my eyes. There was a splitting pain in my temples. The knife in my hand dripped blood, as I moved it forward, using it to pull a white-clad man towards me.

Though I knew where I'd hit him, my knife seemed to heal rather than hurt, and the man stood back up. He backed away, and another doctor leaned in, seeming to want a better look at my weapons. Seemingly satisfied, he straightened back up. I blinked a couple of times, in confusion, and the blood spot in my eye cleared up, giving me a better view of the hospital waiting room.

Pushing my back up against the counter behind me, I forced myself back onto my feet, placing my hand on the desk for support. A nurse tried to say something, but her words made no sense. Was she speaking English? It was impossible to tell.

Seemingly frightened by something, she moved back, putting as much distance between herself and me as was possible. Suddenly, through the pain, I realized that every pair of eyes in the waiting room was focused on me. Scared and self-conscious, I began to back away, right back out the automatic doors. Strangely, once I was back out on the midnight street, I did not turn and walk away normally. Instead, I continued to limp backwards, as if I had no need to see where I was going.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion, as I struggled to keep moving, leaning on walls for support; but always moving, backwards, towards some unseen goal. Down the ramp of a parking garage, and towards a red pickup truck.