I pull out my hidden pistol from my boot and point it at the Future President. He stumbles backwards and into the wall. My group grabs whatever closest and get ready to pounce on the guards whom have already assumed their own attack position. Fear dances in his eyes as he realizes there's a slight possibility he won't come out alive.
"Let's not make any drastic decisions everyone," he attempts calming everyone down.
"One move and I shoot!" I threaten him.
He calmly puts his arms up.
"Move to the wall over there," I order through gritted teeth, I motion to the bare left wall with my gun.
He takes his time to get there.
"Listen, I really don't think you want to do this," the President attempts coaxing me out of my decision.
"We can use this," Riley suggests as he walks over with duct tape.
A guard steps forward, hand lying on his gun. He prepares to take action when the President motions for him to back off.
"If they're going to tie us up, so be it. As long as they don't kill us!" he reasons.
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After a few minutes of watching, Riley has successfully duct taped their hands, mouth, and feet.
"Now listen here," I say in a venomous tone, "you aren't going to bomb anyone. If I find out you hurt so much as a fly I will personally shoot you, capiche?"
He nods his head and slightly rolls his eyes. I take the blade of my dagger and carve a small line into the line of his jaw, deep enough to leave a scar. The blood slowly drips down, splattering onto my hand.
"Let's go," I tell Riley.
He nods and follows me as we speed-walk out the door, closing it behind us.
"Is Mr. President busy?" the secretary inquires.
"Yes... he's ... erm... tied up in work at the moment. He said he needs to be alone," I lie, well partially, he is tied up.
"Oh, okay, well have a great rest of the day," she says with a perky smile.
"I'll try..." I say under my breath.
It's the apocalypse, how am I supposed to have a good rest of the day?
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We ride the elevator in a deafening silence and make our way back to our truck, the only sound is our shoes scraping the cold cement. We all climb into the truck and slowly make our way back to the front gate.
"Have a nice day!" the guard says in an overly happy way.
I stare at him as though he's an alien. I look away as we speed down the dirt road, pebbles plinking against the metal of the car.
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I sit in the kitchen, a steaming cup of chamomile tea nestled between my hands.
"What the hell happened?" Griffith finally says now that we're nowhere near the facility.
I smile an almost evil smirk and explain, "he thinks he's going to be the future president."
They all stare at me with wide eyes, "he wants to take over what he can with violence and power."
"He wants to bomb the cities although he didn't admit to it. He's also somehow getting inventory from Asia. We don't know how yet," Riley sums everything up.
YOU ARE READING
Infectious
Teen FictionLove, an apocalypse, and survival. Three things that should not be combined in a sixteen-year-old's life. Raine was a girl with a picture perfect life. That was until the virus broke out. A tale of sacrifice, secrecy, and the hunt for a cure.