Survival Inc.

Chapter Fifteen

"Deal," the man says after a short pause, as if he was unsure at first.

"Good. I will try to put off your death time, you need to help me out though. Try to convince this guy that you're innocent af," I say and he nods. "Alright, I'll be back at midnight with the supplies."

He nods yet again and I sigh shakily. Been here less than 48 hours and I'm already screwing stuff up. Guess that's not always a bad thing.

I shake his hand and leave to go talk to the man in the hall. He's still looking at me with a dead look in his eyes, and his voice is as monotone as ever.

"What were you discussing with him?" he asks and I raise an eyebrow.

My heart flutters nervously and I feel my face flush. How was I not prepared? Heck I'm taking my own mother down, I need to be professional.

"He's innocent, sir. He told me the names of the men that did it and blamed him. He's being blackmailed," I say as convincingly as I can.

The man raises an eyebrow as if unsure of my intentions. He sighs and says, "I will bring it up with your mother. If it turns out that you are lying, then you're jailed and he dies."

I clench my teeth and nod, "What is his new set death date?"

"Midnight tonight, so don't go getting ideas for any sneaking around the hospital or stealing or escaping," he says, deadly serious.

Wait... "Escaping?" I ask after a moment. He doesn't look away and nods.

"I assume he told you what he was 'framed' for, and you know about the New World, which is a threat to us here, so that's why I called in security. They should be here soon," he answers without any sort of worry or hesitation in his voice.

But me? I'm worrying, but much like him, I'm not going to hesitate. I sprint towards the stairs but hear voices yelling and I notice that the man behind me has started speaking into a walkie talkie and I cuss. Clutching my side in pain I run to my room and shut and lock the door, looking around frantically for anything that could be of use.

There's a book-bag abandoned in the corner that I must not have noticed before. I grab it and shake it to get the dust that has settled on it off. Stuffing my phone and all of the medicine and bandages and such in the bag, the doors start getting kicked in. Grabbing a scalpel, I kick the window and it slightly creaks.

Thud thud thud. They're kicking harder at the door. I grab the doctor's chair at the computer desk and swing it at the window. A loud crack rings out but the window is barely broken. I swing again as the thuds from the door get louder. The sound of the wood straining under their kicks suddenly sounds and I feel panic rise in my throat.

The window shatters after my second swing and I lift my leg onto the ledge. The door breaks open as soon as I'm fully onto the ledge and the soldiers are all pointing guns at me.

"Don't you get it? You're fighting for the wrong reasons! You have killed innocent people with this disease! And you're about to kill a 17 year old girl because she wants to escape your hell-hole!" I shout at them and they seem to pause for a second. Then, something I'm not prepared for happens.

One of them kneels, throws me their gun, and puts their hands up. "She's right. I accept any punishment."

I catch the gun but two soldiers turn, point their guns at the kneeling one, and shoot. The man falls to the ground, blood pooling from his head and chest under him, then they turn back to me, making me realize I had a perfect chance to escape and maybe distract them from killing that man. Shaking my head, I say, "You just murdered an unarmed man. How could you think that this is the right way to live?"

They start walking towards me, guns at the ready, and I know that the smallest movement I make, they will shoot and I will not be able to avoid death. They're giving me the most civil option, being taken prisoner. My eyes are narrowed as I glance at the gun. Safety is off and the trigger is open.

"Put your hands up," one of them demands and I furrow my eyebrows.

I raise both arms, but one only part-way.

"I am so, so sorry," I say and shoot two of them in the knees. They yell out in pain and drop to the ground, blood seeping onto the floor. I take the opportunity and twist out the window, ignoring the sharp pain from my side coming from my now-open wound. I roll on to the flat roof  a few feet below the window and sprint across it, barely avoiding bullets flying past my head. At the edge of the flat roof, I hop onto the ledge of a second-floor window, but more soldiers start breaking it. Turning quickly, I fall and fall on my back onto the top of an ambulance parked on the second floor, probably bruising my back and narrowly avoiding a concussion.

Groaning, I feel a hot, sticky liquid seeping over my hip and under my back from the wound and my head starts spinning. I'm not going to make it out of this place. I'm going to die here.

Accepting my fate and ignoring the pain that's catching up to me in my hip, I lie there and look at the clouds, thinking of how much I've gone through just to die. Sighing, I turn my head and let my body go limp, saying a mental goodbye to the world, waiting for something to happen.

"There she is!" a voice yells from the roof and my stomach and chest go cold with anxiety.

'Oh, God, maybe this is the end,' I think and wait for something to happen.

"Open fire!" another voice yells and suddenly, I'm not so keen to die, but I continue lying there, unsure of what to do.

A gun's protection clicking off alerts my senses and I face the reality of 'I'm probably going to die even though I suddenly don't want to, and it's now my fault if I do'.