Don't Look Back (Short Story)

Part Three

A/N: So it's been a while, I promise I'm working on this, but it's definitely been a bit, I took a bit off the last part and am adding to it to make this part. So enjoy!

Once I came to, it took me a moment to figure out where I was, and what had happened. My vision was still blurred, and my lungs burned with every breath I took. The bar was empty, and snow could be seen from the windows. I took a frantic glance at my wrist, only to find my watch was gone. I was cold again, and my jacket, and shoes were missing. I reached for my side, only to find my gun had disappeared as well.

My legs protested as I stood up, forcing me to clutch the countertop in order to stay upright, and I cursed when I nearly tripped over a barstool. Wonderful. I bent over, forcing myself to vomit. I was shivering profoundly, and I wandered around the bar a little, coming across a wall covered with employee photographs.

There she was, the redhead woman that had drugged me. I took in her entire image, her tattoos and piercings, trying to figure out why she seemed familiar. It struck me. In the general's office there had been a board full of wanted posters, I had seen her face on it. She'd cut her hair, but that was all, the only thing to differentiate between the barmaid and the thief. I staggered towards the door, coughing as a blast of cold air hit me. It was clear that a lot of time had passed, a few hours at the least. The sun wasn't visible due to the clouds, and I couldn't think.

That receptionist. Hadn't her 'date' been at eight? I didn't think before deciding that I couldn't let that girl die.

How unlucky the two of us were, I was most likely running late to her execution, for whatever reason I had to figure out, and she had to fall for, and to top it off, my gun had been swindled off. Wonderful. A small voice at the back of my mind pushed forward, that wasn't the only gun you had. I tensed at the thought, I didn't want anything to do with that gun. Almost unconsciously, my hand drifted toward my chest, where the weapon had been concealed. No.

I refused to use that killing machine. I didn't want to pull the same trigger that killed the people close to me. My feet were beginning to numb, but I ignored the cold that was biting at my skin, unable to move.

No. Stop that.

I snapped out of my trance, darting towards the military headquarters.