Saved by the Phoenix

Chapter One

My eyes water as I crash through the brush. I can feel my arms and legs being torn up as I sprint as far away as possible, my thin hospital gown being shredded to strips by the thorns, the branches that grasp for me, trying to hold me back. One flimsy slipper remains on my foot, a wide hole on the sole exposing my foot the the sharp twigs and wet leaves on the ground. The other fell off about a mile ago.

I know I have to stop; I am wheezing, but the flames charring the forest behind me could engulf my body any second now.

I can't believe I've done it. I escaped.

Finally allowing myself a minute to rest, I drop down to my knees unceremoniously. I fold over again and vomit blood, staining the pine needles below my head a dark red.

Smoke drifts around me in its wispy, finger-like tendrils again, and I force myself up to a standing position. The world rocks and sways to its own strange waltz, and I know I don't have much time left before unconsciousness, which leaves only one choice- to find a road. Maybe, maybe, if someone finds me, they can drive me into the city.

A few more miles, a few more rests. The pattern continues, until finally I find a road.

Not one I'd hoped for, like a well-used cement road that would have to lead into Chicago, but it wad good enough. A small, gravel path, wide enough for four or five men abreast. I hoped a car would come by soon; someone trying to escape the flames. But

would they stop? Would they have the time to save me? I lie next to the road, giving up.

I float through different stages of consciousness, not ever sure what was real and what was a hallucination until I saw a silhouette in the distance.

It's a white van, careening through the smoke. The driver had a frightened look on his face, but slammed on the brakes once he saw me, making the wheels screech to a halt. He climbed out of the driver's side, hollering to other people concealed in the van. Running toward me with his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, his face changes to a mask. His glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them up again, leaning down and shoving his hands under me. I panicked a little, but was unable to free myself, or move at all, for that matter. The figure carried me around to the back of his ride, where three other men had opened the back doors. After stepping in, one man comes after him and closes the door from the inside. The other two run around to the front to drive.

My head is in my protector's lap, and I lie on the dirty floor of the beaten van. I don't know where any of the others are for sure.

He looks down at me, and, for a moment, I am able to see every one of his features with perfect clarity. Baby blue eyes study my face. The rim of his fedora threatens to tip over his head.

I do not know if I am being saved or kidnapped. All I know now is the symbol hastily painted onto the van wall opposite me- a triangle, or, three quarters of it, and what appears to be a crown thingy on top. Inside the not-triangle are three letters, letters that make no sense to me- FOB.

That is the last thing I remember before passing out.

Hi! I'm Tomorrow. I'm writing this fanfiction about a really great band, Fall Out Boy. As for the disclaimers, I don't own Fall Out Boy (although I wish I could), and I got the lab idea from a really great series called Maximum Ride by James Patterson. Please give me feedback if you see this! :)