Don't Bubble 16 A

The Truth

"16!" the man called.

Four people, including Jack stood in a row. The man smirked and took his pistol, aiming it right for Jack's heart. The man cocked the pistol. But right as he went to shoot, he moved it to the side, shooting the person to Jack's left. "You're lucky," the man growled. "He erased."

Jack didn't dare release a sigh of relief, he didn't even breathe. "Alright everyone! Back to your cells!" the man barked.

The three remaining silently walked back to their cells, not wanting to cause any trouble. Jack waited for several minutes until the guards weren't paying attention. With the greatest of ease, he unlocked his cell door and opened it, quietly sneaking down the hallway afterwards. He crept around corners, and narrowly avoided several guards, finally making it the end of the prison. He quickly hot-wired the keypad, allowing him to open the door to the outside world. He quietly closed the door before he took off into the woods.

He found the building the red-haired man was in and quickly ran to the same window he had opened yesterday. He looked through the glass, realizing that the man wasn't in there. He tried the window, expecting it to be locked. And as he thought, it was. He pulled himself onto the ledge and tried to look at the lock, wondering if there was a way he could open it. It looked pretty old, so Jack tried jiggling the window pane. Suddenly the door opened, and in shear panic, Jack launched himself off the ledge and into some nearby bushes, landing painfully on his left arm. He stiffened as he listened to the window open. "Jack?"

Jack let out a sigh of relief, and with great effort, sat up, spotting Mark leaning out the window. He then grunted and pushed himself to his feet, wincing when a sharp pain shot through his arm. Mark gasped, leaning further out the window. "Your arm!"

Jack looked down to see red staining his orange sleeve. His eyes widened in fear and he looked back up at Mark, who was holding out a hand for him to grab. Jack hesitated before grabbing his hand with his right. Then, Jack began scaling the wall, Mark pulling on his arm to keep him from falling. Jack dropped to the tile floor, finding that his energy was near gone. Mark helped Jack up and lead him to a nearby chair, his eyes filled with worry. Jack pulled off the top of his jumpsuit so he could examine the severity of the cut. He gritted his teeth against the pain and placed his hand over it, hoping to stop the bleeding. The red-haired man disappeared in the nearby bathroom before coming out with a washcloth, bandages, and two bottles. Mark then knelt in front of Jack and poured water onto the washcloth before moving Jack's hand and cleaning the cut. Jack winced as soon as the cloth touched him. Mark pulled away and mumbled an apology before attempting to clean Jack's wound again. Jack gritted his teeth and looked around the room, trying to distract himself from the pain. After looking over everything at least twice, he watched as the man continued to clean his cut. "This is going to hurt."

Jack nodded shakily and leaned his head back, rapidly blowing air in and out of his mouth as the pain flared up in his arm. Mark grumbled something to himself as he pressed the washcloth to Jack's cut. "Calm down."

Jack did as Mark said and took deep breaths, slowing his heart rate down. Mark nodded and pulled away the washcloth, beginning to carefully wrap a bandage around Jack's arm. Mark stood up when he finished, admiring his handy work. Jack groaned before thanking Mark, relieved that he wouldn't have to patch himself up. "Why are you back?" Mark asked.

Jack spotted the mostly non bubbled sheet and pointed to it. "This. This is why I'm back."

Mark nodded, kneeling next to Jack. "What about it?"

"You don't know what it's for do you?"

Mark shook his head, and Jack sighed. "I was falsely accused of (insert crime here), so I ended up in prison. This bubble sheet," Jack tapped the paper, "this determines who they kill."