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,
All rights reserved


18. Chapter Seventeen

      I press myself into the wall behind the door. When it opens, it will conceal me. The knobs clicks, and a thin line of light pours into the musty room. I prepare myself for the blow. Once a tip of somebody's nose is in my view, and grab the door and thrust it toward me to gain momentum. Then, before the man has time to react, and ram myself into the door, causing it to fly forward. With a thud, the man falls to the floor. His face is unknown to me. I check the floor for blood. It was not my intentions to kill the man, but he looks as if the life has left him. His hands are coiled around a gun which he intended to use before I attacked. I never wanted to become a murderer, but I have.

     My bare feet pad silently though the hall. Old wallpaper has begun to peel off the walls, giving an erie feel to the house. Every once in a while, my foot finds an old piece of wood which cries out when I press my weight against it. My body freezes, and I make sure nobody is near before I continue on. I pray nobody is monitoring my room, otherwise, I will be caught soon. 

     The halls are aligned with various doors. Some have more locks then others, some have no locks at all. Sometime, I can see shadows shift under the draft of the door, and I can hear feet shuffling. Where am I? I press on down the endless, winding hallway. As I continue on, I feel as if the halls will shrink until I can't fit though them, and my predator will catch up with me.

      At the though of him finding me, my feet move a little faster. I suck in my breath, tying to make myself lighter, and less visible, which I know is stupid. Finally, the hallway opens into a catwalk. The moon cast a mysterious veil to the banister. I see the stares a few feet away, but I hastily make the decision to take the quickest way off to the main floor. I toss my legs over the rail, then thrust my body away from my support. 

      A tingle travels up my shin when my feet collide with the floor. Both feet and one of my hands are supported by the wooded flooring. I stay in this crouched position for a while before making my next move. I assume my eyes are glowing. I imagine what it would look like. Walking though the dark and gloomy halls of this house, and seeing blue rings floating in mid air.

    I push myself up off the floor, and glance around. The foyer is deserted, except for the dusty chairs. Stuffing oozes out of the seams of the cushions. In nearly every corner rest a cobweb. The only sound is the constant ticking of the Grandfather Clock beside the door. My heart beats with the clicking sound, I almost rely on it beat.

     I need a weapon, something to defend myself with. I mumble angrily to myself, how could I have been so stupid as to leave that gun upstairs. I contemplate weather to get it or not, but I decide its to risky. I walk to the front door, and as expected, its locked. I head down the other remaining halls hoping to find an open backdoor.

      I keep at least one of my hands against the wall to guide me while I shuffle blindly thought the house. I know I have entered the kitchen when the rough wood floors turn into sleek tile. A since of relief comes over me as I amble toward the cabinets and drawers. I slide the drawers open carefully, making sure no civil-wear is heard. 

      My fingers coil around a meat knife, my grips constantly gets tighter. Before I get the chance to move, I hear feet shuffle, and they are not mine. I freeze, praying that somehow I will vanish. Maybe, if I stop breathing they wont be able to see me, but then again, that is a stupid assumption. Beads of sweat begin to form between the crease in my brow, and I bite my lip to stop it from wobbling. My moist hands make it difficult to hold onto the knife.

     I hear a click, and a small lamp turns on. I don't move my head, but I shift my eyes. He stands with his arms crossed. The light beside him lights one side of his face, and casts shadows upon the other. The shadows fill his eye sockets, and sharpen cheekbones. Short curly hair frames his face. He takes a step toward me. 

    "Oh, Trinity. I wouldn't let you get away that easily." He said tauntingly. His breath spills over me, and it reeks of alcohol. I say nothing. I hear him cock his gun, and thats when I drop my knife. "Good choice." 

      "Trinity, you are very valuable. I need you for something from you, and you are going to give it to me."

        "I'm not giving you anything." I snap.

        "I wouldn't be to sure about that." he chuckles, "You see, your friends. What were there names? Ah, yes, Griffin... and Lance." 

         I cut him off immediately, "Leave them out of this!"

        "I'm afraid it's to late for that." he snarls. I whirl around and grab him by the shirt. 

        "If you did anything to them, I will kill you." I feel my nostrils flare wildly, and my lips curl in disgust. 

         "Listen here," His gun is presses against my gut, "you will give me what I want. If not, they will pay the consequences." 

          I loosen my grip on his shirt, my eyes burning into his. He grabs me by the hair and shoves me forward. I notice he looks nervous and weary. 

         I pay no attention to the direction of the halls, I just go where he leads me. When we come to a stop, he turns to a blank wall, then slides it open revealing an elevator door. I give him a curious look, but say nothing. He frantically presses a silver button with shaking hands. This behavior is clearly not drunkenness. Its fear. 

         A sound alerts us that the elevator is ready, and the door glides open. I step into the cage, and he follows. The door shuts, and he presses another button. The screen above the buttons lights up, and instead of the numbers rising, they decrease. 

       Floor negative one, negative two, negative three... 

       We stop at negative ten. The door slowly begins to open, and though the gap, which is constantly getting larger, I see two faces I wished I hadn't. At least not in this way. 

      "Griffin! Lance!" I scream while squirming my way though the door. Because of my size, I am able to get off the elevator before the man can. 

      My body lurches forward, but I fail to reach them. 


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