Losing Eight Lives

28 | Lies

The pain was so intense, I lost my vision. My body got so heavy that my muscles couldn't handle it. It felt like my bones were suddenly made of iron and my blood froze solid.

I hit the cold ground hard. My body wouldn't listen to my brain telling it to move.

The hot blood on my chest started covering the ground. My eyes fell on the wound, and wouldn't look away. If my heart didn't stop, then I would die of blood loss, I realized.

The metal of the gun still touched the skin of my hand. I lost my grip, but it was still there. Still cold and hard.

My head was foggy. I couldn't think straight in my last moments and it frustrated me.

Amanda, your apology is accepted.

Jace, I just wanted to see you. One. Last. Time.

There were more people I wanted to remember, but the pain took up my thoughts and I couldn't continue. But before my last breath I gathered every once of energy to concentrate on one last thought. It was meant for every single person I've let die.

See you soon.

-=-=-=-

I inhaled the largest amount of air I've ever taken, and coughed to complete my breath. While coughing, I doubled over to sit upright, and opened my eyes to see a teary Becka sitting next to me.

She grinned and let out a combination of a sob and laugh. Her arms were soon wrapped around me tightly. "Don't ever, do that to me, again." she whispered harshly in my ear.

I smiled, and suddenly felt my eyes swell. Hot tears formed as I hugged her back. "I can't make any promises," I whispered back to her.

Becka pulled away from the hug and laughed while wiping tears and sniffling. She lifted the ripped t-shirt I wore and carefully examined my wound. Her fingers tried to open up the tear even wider.

"Hey," I said playfully, "This is my only t-shirt. Stop ripping it." We both laughed lightly.

I looked up to find three pale faces staring back.

"That scared me. And I've been working with this experiment for years." Addison sounded a little out of breath.

"Oh my God. You're alive." Sean stared at me with wide eyes. And Cam just said nothing.

"Your wound . . ." Becka said. I looked down at my chest, passed the bloody clothing to see my skin.

The tan surface looked flawless. Not a scar was left. Not a drop of blood was scattered. Not a cell out of place.

Like a wound was never there.

Like I didn't shoot myself in the chest.

"Geez, you heal fast." Becka looked at me with stunned eyes.

I nodded, and looked at the bookstore in front of me. The tar of the parking lot was hard underneath me, and the cold breeze blew down my neck.

I realized something at that moment, leaned over, and unwrapped the bandage around my arm.

Other than the blood that the bandage was soaked in, there was no trace of the deep cut.

My gaze landed back on everyone just looking at me, speechless.

I got to my feet and helped Becka up. There was no hiding the smirk on my face. "Do you believe us now?"

-=-=-=-

"Hello?" I yelled into the air of the deserted intersection.

"Area 9L?" Becka shouted next to me. "We need you to come get us! We crash landed in the helicopter!"

I watched her cup her hands around her mouth and shout some more. We were both covered in everything from dirt to blood. Becka's hair was matted and greasy, and I couldn't imagine mine was better. Her eyes looked tired--clothes, worn out--and we had only been gone for about eight hours.

I yelled into the air a little more as well, until--as if on cue--I heard the thumping of a helicopter.

Becka and I exchanged glances before waving the copter down.

The helicopter landed next to the crashed one softly. Two men in black suits and dark sunglasses jumped out of the side and jogged over to Becka and I.

"That was fast," I said, trying to sound small.

"Our helicopter . . ." the fear in Becka's tone sounded real as she looked at the crash scene.

"Yes we know. Don't worry, it will be cleaned up. And the people that died in the crash with be missed." The short, slimmer one put a hand on my back.

"In the meantime we need to get you back to headquarters," the bigger one said with a fake smile.

We nodded and they led us back to the helicopter. I watched five or six more men jump out of the helicopter and head towards the crashed one.

I let the smaller guy help me up into the helicopter, but Becka refused the curtesy. Once we were on board the bigger guy told the pilot to go back to headquarters, and off we flew.

On the ride back the men asked us to tell them what happened. Becka and I told them a story of us waking up in the helicopter, wandering through building after building in town, and then realizing that they weren't going to come unless we asked them to.

Of course, it was a lie. All of it was. It was all an act.

Part of a plan.