Insurgent

The year is 2096. The deadly Virus has crippled North America, and in the ashes the ruthless Insurgents cut a swathe of destruction into the heart of America. Thousands die, it is only a matter of time before New York falls. Curfews are set, and blockades spring up throughout the city in an attempt to stop them. Meanwhile, Jacob continues with his everyday life until he catches the virus. When however the 'cure' fails to work on him he discovers the truth about the Insurgents...

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2. The Penny Drops

Jacob faded in and out of consciousness as he was strapped to a stretcher and rushed to the nearest hospital. He heard separate words and disconnected sentences.

"Clear...situation critical... immediate Surging...bay 6...wipe him..." The words gradually became more and more sluggish before he finally blacked out again.

 

He woke up slowly and gradually, breathing heavily, and taking in the clean, white, sterilised world around him. He sat up suddenly and was greeted with a blinding pain in the back of his head.

"Easy, soldier. You've had a busy day."

"Where am I?"

"Hospital for Special Surgery, seventieth street, Manhattan. You've been unconscious for a while now. We were beginning to get worried." Jacob cautiously turned his head to the right, and he could see a blurry figure in a white coat, but even as he blinked, they came into focus. "I'm Dr. Naciado. I've been assigned to watch your recovery, rehabilitation, and retraining." Retraining? Jacob wondered. Retraining for what?

 

 "I'm going to start with a medical examination, just to check you're fully recovered." He reached out and pinched the back of Jacobs neck. Hot white pain coursed through his skull and he nearly blacked out again. "Did that hurt?"
"Like a bitch."

"Okay." He scribbled something down. "How about this?"

"Ouch."

"Uh huh, and this?"

 

Jacob waited for the doctor to do something. "Jacob, does this hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" asked Jacob irritably, "You aren't doing anything."

"Jacob, look at your hand." There was a large gash on his palm, from which blood was leaking.

"What the fuck?"

"Foul language aside, you couldn't feel that, could you?"

"No. Not even a little."

"That's what I thought. You seem to have lost contact with the pain receptors in your left hand. However it may not be permanent, so don't go around stabbing your hand to much." After the doctor had bandaged his hand, the tests continued, yielding few interesting results bar the fact that he was almost perfectly healthy.

 

 "We just need to run a physical and mental evaluation, and then you can be retrained. After that it's back on active service." Active service? What the hell was he on about? "Anyway, I'm going to leave you now, I suggest you try and get some sleep. If you need anything, just call."

 

 As the footsteps echoed away on the shadowy floor, Jacob's mind span. His watch had been removed, but the windows outside showed the darkening sky. He had no idea what was going on. The doctor kept going on like he was in the army, like he was going to be sent out to fight Insurgents any day now. There was, however one thing Doctor Naciado had told him through omission: he hadn't mentioned the Virus at all. They were lying to him. He hated being lied to.

 

Bare feet cold against the unfeeling floor, Jacob sprinted out of the ward. After two minutes of flat out running, he was exhausted. he leaned against a window, looked out through it and froze. Suddenly the penny dropped. There was no Virus. It was a lie. Doctor Naciado had mentioned the army - Jacob had thought he meant fighting Insurgents. But through the glass he could see the truth. Hundreds of black clad soldiers, lining up with rifles and machine guns. Insurgents.

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