The next few seconds passed so quickly, it's hard to recall exactly what happened. It was as if something came over me. What I remember is stepping into the room and opening fire on the five guards. They all scrambled for cover, while one or two of them tried to go for their weapons--they were the first to die! Eventually I would kill all of them, even when they begged for mercy. The next thing I remember was standing over the bodies, collecting their ammo. Before leaving the room, I grabbed an extra rifle, just in case I might need it.
While slipping out of the room I was still cautious, even though there didn't appear to be anyone around. Moving quickly down the hall, I took the time to pull together my composure, once I was positive everything was safe. I could not believe what I just done. There had been no reason for me to kill those guys. But, what bothered me the most was that I did not have any remorse or regret for my actions. What was happening to me? Was I going crazy, or is there something else going on here?
Twenty minutes had gone by while I checked at least ten cells, and still there was no sign of my brother Richard. Then the thought of him having possibly died that night came over me. Those Unluckys had torn him up but good. I couldn't leave him though; if he was indeed dead, then we would give his body a proper burial. That was the least I could do for him, since it was my damn idea to go on this crazy 'adventure!'
What I heard next froze me where I stood. A faint voice said, "Brother?"
When I turned around I could not believe my eyes! There he was, holding himself up by hanging to the steel bars of his cell, trying to keep his balance. He was alive! Somewhere in the back of my mind was the thought my brother lived, but I had my doubts also. It was amazing to see him standing there. He was still wearing the same clothes from the other night, but they were covered in dried blood, as well as thoroughly shredded from the fight. The cuts on his face appeared to be stitched up with what looked to be thick fishing line. He was ghostly white, and reminded me of what a fresh Unlucky looked like.
I told him that we were getting the hell out of there, and he needed to get back from the bars. Once he was in a safe distance away, I fired two well placed rounds into cell's lock, causing the door to swing open. Stepping inside, my stomach turned from the putrid smell. It was a small room with no bed or toilet, and as I looked around I realized the origin of the smell. There were several piles of human waste on the floor. How could anyone be able to survive in those kinds of conditions?
As I helped him back to his feet, I noticed the yellow ring that circled his pupils, which had been an indication that he was infected by the sickness and had only a few days before he would become an Unlucky. With a deep sigh he asked me if he was infected. I couldn't lie to him. I told him the truth; yes, yes he had been. Richard pushed away from me and sat back down on the ground. He brought his legs to his chest and began to sob. He looked up at me and as the tears ran down his face, he told me that I had to kill him. But I refused to do so, not after everything that all of us had gone through just to find him. I rushed back over to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. At first he tried to struggle with me, but soon stopped and stared at me. Finally, he cracked a weak smile, seeing something that must have soothed his soul, even though I had no clue what it was.
1 2 3 4 5