The Rise Of Wicked

Chapter 2: They've Got Me

"Let me go!" I cried.

Man dressed head to toe in black swarmed around me, each seeming to glare at me with an endless black gaze. They hardly seemed like the kind of people I could trust, what with them having snatched me from my feet, or as the letter had stated to 'collect me'.

I tried to fight against them, but my bones ached from the war, my mind to tired to think of battling another moment longer.

I didn't think I could ever trust these people if I couldn't even count of them to use reason, instead just snatching me from my feet and dragging me from the tent and throwing me into the back of a deeply tinted Mercedes.

My thoughts were interrupted by a thrum of sirens blasting from every direction. My instincts told me to run, spirt faster than I ever had before. Because it seemed if I had any kind of choice left to make that would have to be one of them. But before I could change my mind the Mercedes door slammed closed and blackness surrounded me.

Trouble. Definitely in some serious trouble. I feel the car pull away from the curb, and I roll onto myside. I stumble to my knees and begin crawling around looking around desperately for an escape but there was hardly any room and each door was looked from the outside.

I felt myself begin to grow dreary with sleep but pushed past it, if there was any chance of escape I had to stay alert. I listened to the car, to the murmurs in the front of the car. And finally, when the car came to a jerky stop I readied myself beside the door, feet propped as if I were about to pounce.

I hear a door unlock and footsteps begin to approach. They'll see me, was all I could think. But I didn't care. Just run. Just run.

You can't trust these people, you don't know these people. You have to –

The door swung open and my feet propelled from the seat I'd been propped against, I leapt from the car faster than I had thought. I tear down an alley, sirens blaring around me in a constant unending scream. I pick up my pace, watching each turn for possible assailants.

I took a corner so quickly I hadn't had time to read the overhanging sign, regretting my decision straight away. The alley ended, a brick wall blocking my way from escape.

"Dammit!" I muttered.

I'll be locked away for life. Tortured and abused for the gifts embedded within me.

I brace myself knowing escape was unattainable.

I braced my hand before my chest, readying myself to fight the oncoming wave of authorities.

At least six men surged around the corner, each darting for different parts of my body as I scramble to obtain a sense of balance as my legs are pulled out from beneath me.

I wanted to put up a fight, but I'd been without sleep for over twenty-four hours and by the time their hands had snared me I'd been too weak to fight back.

I open my mouth to scream at them, wanting – needing answers.

Another man's hand wraps around my throat, his grip remained strong, unyielding.

"Shut your trap!" The man with his hand around my throat snaps out furiously.

They lead me back through the maze of red brick alleys keeping me as quiet as they could. Men in black suits rose enough suspicion without a kicking screaming solider dragging behind them.

The whirl of a chopper blasts closer until all I could hear was the constant thunk, thunk of the blades going around and around.

"What the hell is going on!" I yell back, my voice muffled, due to his tight grip.

A moment of silence covers the street and before I know it I'm being pulled into the compartment at the back of the chopper, seat belt being slung around my waist.

The man released his grip around my neck as soon as the chopper had taken off, leaving me with no other options but to sit there.

A gush of air enters my lungs and I'm thankful for the reprieve as the chopper redirects and starts off towards the bleak dawn.

© Tyson Hibbard, All Rights reserved