112
I don't think my heart has ever beat this fast. Seriously, I don't think this is healthy.
I run as fast as I can, my feet thumping on the cold floor in tandem with my heart. This floor is more mushy, though, kind of like a bed. But not soft. More rough. And really hard, too?
I feel like my feet are sinking every step I take, my ankles covered in a brown sludge. Every few seconds I get hit by a long limb coming off of a tree. I would stop to look at them, but I don't have the time right now. Slices of chilled air carve through my throat, cutting into my lungs.
"Let go, 112. Let go."
The words echo in my ears. Her burnt arms can't disappear from my sight. The fire burning over her twisted and dedicated body.
"Let go."
My hand shakes uncontrollably as I look down at it. Why did I let go?
My pants turn to a sharp gasp as something hard hits my foot.
Cold green shards, gritty brown slush. It splashes against my face. More liquid flows down my face and body, but it's thicker than water. The metallic taste floods into my mouth. I spit weakly, the bubbles just flowing onto the weird brownish green floor. This is much worse than the tests. I feel no pain, but I can't move my body. My arms are weak. I try to lift my hand to even move a bit of air into my lungs, but my vision starts to blur.
Why did I let go?
YOU ARE READING
Ballad of Wind And Shadows
Science Fiction"Let go, 112. Let go." The Facility is 112's life. White walls, sterile rooms, needles poking and prodding. But he doesn't know any better, this is just life, isn't it? Right? 4 is free. Finally. No more white walls, sterile rooms, needles poking...
