Superhuman

In a dystopian America, Trinity Shire, and three other teenagers are taken captive by the government to be used as scientific experiments. The scientist plan on making the "perfect human". They strive to create someone that is able to conquer anything. They spent years perfecting a chemical that could wash out the mind of a human so they can't think for themselves. They plan to build an army of mindless power machines, but will they succeed? Copyright © 2013 by Cassidy McClurkan,
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9. Chapter Eight

        

I swing around violently. I see Griffin in the center of men; his tux is stained with red.

            “No!” I scream as I charge though the maze of tables. I set my gun in front of me, and fire. Five men sink the their knees. Nine, ten, eleven fall to the ground after every shot I take. The pang in my ear drowns out the sound of my sobbing. I feel nothing but energy, and fear.

            Not a man in arms stands. Surrounding me is a halo of blood, which trails around the room. Only two remain. My body tenses, and my lips curl,  creases form at my nose. Beads of sweat roll off my skin, tickling my forehead. The red-eyed woman glares at me from the other side of Griffin. Her pale fingers coil around a pistol dangling from her belt. Air heaves out of my chest. I fire again, hitting her companion, the man. She snarls at me, and cocks her gun.

            “No!” The scream is unusual compared to all the other cries for help. The woman turns her perfectly pointed chin so it’s facing the scientist. “Don’t shoot.” He mumbles. Her hips pivot as she turns on her heels. She is brainless, and cant think for herself, and this is the only time I am grateful for that.

            The instant her back turns I hurtle toward Griffin. The sob that lingers in the back of my throat releases itself when my knees collide against the tile. I wrap my hands under Griffins neck, and rest his head on my lap. My shaky hand brushes the hair out of his eyes harshly. I tried to be soft, but I couldn’t. His warm blood slips though my fingers, staining my hands with the liquid.

            “Griffin?” I choke; “Griffin!” my hand follows down his chest. Six bullets have punctured his body and his lungs.

            I shake his shoulder, praying for some miracle. I don’t know if he was strong enough. Even for a superhuman, this kind of wound will kill him without special medicines. My finger traces the outline of his thin lips, and brush over his eyelids. His eyelids twitch at the touch, and a burst of hope shoots up my heart.

            “Griffin? Talk to me, Griffin. We don’t have that much time, please.” My pleading turned into sobbing. “Please, please.”

            My eyes scan across the room that had been evacuated. Every customer has left, excepts for the men I had annihilated. There is a pang of guilt in my chest. I have taken the lives of these men without a second thought. Suddenly, there is a hoarse gasp. Griffin is going into shock, I can tell by the look on his face. His eyes have shot open and are staring into mine. His nostrils flare as he tries to breathe. Dark thick blood lurches out of his mouth as he coughs. He looks down at his chest and sobs. With shaky hands he takes mine.

            “Go without me.” His lips glisten with sweat as he tries to form words.

            “No,” I snap, “no.” I don’t know how to get him out of here, but if there is one thing I do know, it’s that I’m not leaving without him.

            “I’m dying.” He whispers. He tries to say more but I slam my fist against the ground.

            “Don’t talk like that. Don’t say that. You’re strong and you can get though this. Just watch.” My voice is hardly sensitive. My parents always told me I wasn’t soft enough when it came to people hurting.

            He chuckles slightly, and winces at the pain that follows. “That’s your power of will coming out. Just leave me will ya?”

            “You haven’t seen half of what I’m capable of.” I imply. I stand on the balls of my feet and swing his arm around my shoulder for support. I nearly drag his limp body out of the building. His breath is harsh and jagged against my skin, and his heart fails to keep a steady rhythm. Nothing a little healing serum couldn’t fix, but how would I get my hands on that?

            The streets are now abandoned, and I make my way through the white and pristine buildings and head for the bad part of town. Surly I can find a small hotel to stay in.

            Griffin's feet scrape against the ground as I amble for the outer city. He apologizes regularly, then his head lulls to the side. I pause constantly, and look behind us to make sure no one is following. Though, it wouldn’t be hard because Griffin’s blood is clearer than footprints in the sand. I bite my lip, hoping that he wont give in. He’s strong. I know he is. I know.

            I examine the buildings encircling us trying to find the most suitable one. Obviously we aren’t going home anytime soon; it would take ages to get him back. Also, I need to steal meds in order to save him.

            I choose an old hotel. Its doors are already bust open, which is helpful, but it concerns me. I brush off the thought of thugs and trek up two flights of stairs, and then turn down a cluttered hallway.

            Cigarettes are littered everywhere, bottles and cans crunch beneath my feet. A musty smell lingers in the air, like sour milk that had seeped into the floors. The paint on the walls have begun to peel, and every now and then there is a fissure in the wall, exposing the mess of wires within the dry wood. 

            I slowly remove my arms from around his middle, leaving one had reached out to him for support once I find a room. Once he’s stable, I pull my arms into my chest, and heave my leg forward.

            My boots collide against the sturdy door. It didn’t even budge. I veer my eyes away from Griffin, who snickers behind me, but immediately stops himself because of the pain. This puts me on edge, and I strike my foot against the entry way again. This time, one of the hinges came loose. I lean back, and then slam all my weight into the door. I fumble forward as the thick wood fell from its hinges. My body aches from the impact.

             I look down the halls, making sure nobody heard the commotion and came looking for us. Then guide Griffin into the room. Two queen sized bed rest against a pale yellow wall. It seems as if this room has been untouched by thugs, and I am grateful. I lay Griffin on the bed.

            “Okay, how are you feeling?” I question. He moans in reply.

             I place my hand on his forehead, soaking in the heat from his body. I take a deep breath and tear his shirt open, revealing his lacerated skin.  Instantly my hands begin to shake, and my stomach twists in a thousand knots. Beads of sweat roll of his chest and trembling muscles. A gasp escapes my throat as I examine the six holes in his skin. Warm blood trails off his side and pools in the sheets. I can’t do this alone. I can’t heal him. My thoughts jumble up in panic and I fight off the urge to scream. I slide into the bed and I bury my head into the space between his head and his shoulders then let out a sob. His sticky skin causes mine to feel dirty, but I don’t care.

            “Please, don’t cry.” He croaks. His hand fumbles upon mine. “It’s my time to go.”

            “Shut up, okay? Just shut up.” I feel bad for being so harsh, but I hate to hear him talk like that. I place my hand over his chest so I can feel the thump of his heart. Whenever the steady rhythm fades I shake him awake. I know it’s cruel to keep him alive when his body can’t take it anymore, but I want to be with him.

            After nearly an hour, I hear him say, “Please let me die.” His voice is nearly a sob. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

            “Can I try?”

            “I’m already gone.” He mumbles in reply. His voice fades and his heart slows.

            “No, no, no!” I scream, “No you’re not leaving me!” his hand squeezes mine in reassurance.  I slip off the bed and stare at him, “I’ll be back, and if you’re dead when I return, I’ll never forgive you.” I say trying to conceal the sob strangling my throat. “I mean it.”

            I lean over him and plant a kiss on his burning forehead. The tip of his lips curls in a slight smile. “I’ll be back.” I promise, “I will.”

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