Save Us From Their Long Run

Escape Against the Odds

Rebecca

Keep going, she screams at herself. Go.

She's going to die here. Her motivation is running out, dying at the same rate her ankle is collapsing underneath her speeding body and that her heart is trying to burst through her chest. Stumbling for her life through the woods in pitch blackness doesn't really inspire much else beyond keep fucking going.

She thinks of her sisters as her vision flashes colors behind her eyes. Thinks about apologizing, maybe, and only once, to her boys for being so insufferable sometimes. The circumstances don't really let her get more philosophical. Her sisters are nowhere she can find and her boys are being super fucking useless right now.

"Seriously? Tom! Answer me you son of a bitch!"

There's mumbling on the other end, but no one is answering her comms. All she knows is that one misstep will kill her, and she can't get away on her own. Getting tortured and shoved into the incinerator, likely alive, is not on her bucket list.

She hears his voice crack through the comms and pounces. "Tom? Tom! Answer! Fuckers!"

"Becca? What's up dude, we're busy," he says nonchalantly. She scoffs and mentally flips him off.

"Oh you are? My bad, just about to get murdered by AR, wouldn't mind some support, you know, any time now."

For a moment it's silent, and Rebecca has to fight the urge to laugh. Of course he's surprised. "Wait, are you—"

"Get someone here now, I'm fucked."

Rebecca doesn't really blame him. The last time she was in a shitstorm like this, she was fifteen and stupid enough to think she could work on her own.

"Where are you? What happened?" He asks. She hears the furrow in his brow from across the line.

"Just track me Tom! I don't have time."

It's not an exaggeration either. The silence of the forest is being torn open by the shouts and stomps of agents dead set on skinning her alive. They're hot on her tail, and she's stuck forcing herself forward blindly.

"Okay, okay, I've got you," he huffs, but there's a pause she doesn't like. "Sending nearest recruits to your general ASAP."

She short circuits. "Recruits? General? Wow, you sure know how to flatter a girl, Tommy!"

He hears the exasperation, but it's clear he can't do anything else. If he could've, he would've, but it doesn't stop the anger from bubbling.

"I'm really fucking sorry Becca. Nearly all high level agents are working Case 9. And we can't push in so many recruits either, especially that close to AR. We could get them all killed. Just keep heading north until you hit the crossroads, they should be there."

She wishes she felt less resigned, but Project 9 is the only thing more important than this mission. Sighing, she prays she makes it to the crossroads before passing out.

"We've got two training agents with the recruits nearby, so you won't be all alone out there alright? I'm sending one in if you don't make the break of the woods before they do."

Becca ducks as a gunshot grazes her ear, barely. There's an awfully close click of a trigger. She glances down and cringes at the deep black discoloration that is stretching up her leg, the intense limp slowing her down dangerously. She doesn't dare look back, but has the sense to tell Tom, "Don't."

"Oh, hell no, Becks. I can hear you struggling to breathe, God knows what else is wrong. He's going in whether you like it or not," he states, and though she wishes she was, Becca is in no position to argue.