"Number Three burst out of the tree line and hit the beach running. She didn't look back, she didn't slow down. Behind her, the droning noise of dune buggies came closer and closer. The sun was slowly frying her skin-- She hadn't seen real light in such a long time. The sand stung her legs as she ran and her heart thudded in her chest as she began to feel like she wasn't going anywhere. The sand was too soft and slippery. It was slowing her down.
Luckily for her, Number Three could not remember fear. All she knew was the instinct inside her to correct her misfortune. She kept her knees high and her contact with the sand minimal as she picked up speed. She kept her eyes on her goal; straight ahead, cliffs cut out into the surf. If she could just swim around the jutting rock, she might gain enough time to find a decent hiding place. Then she could plan what to do next.
She reached the cliffs and ran into the water, struggling as the waves pushed her back towards shore. She would have to swim farther out than she thought. The current was too strong.
The positive of that was she could swim under the water and perhaps her chasers would lose sight of her. Number Three caught glimpses of men on the beach shouting at each other. The dune buggy drone was gone. She did not look back. She wouldn't think of what she was running from; of the scientists in the lab with their round goggles and their cold hands; of the compound she had thought for so long was the only world she'd ever see. She wouldn't think of what would happen if the men caught her. Now that she was out, Number Three wouldn't let them take her back. She focused ahead of her, keeping sight of the shoreline, looking for a safe place to come in and hide.
The water was cool on her hot skin and even harder to move in than the sand. Now it felt like she was going backwards. The water was thick. There was too much of it. She had gotten tired from running for so hard so long and now a new bunch muscles were called to keep her safe. Number Three didn't like the feel of the water pressing against her chest and the suspension of her legs as the waves pushed and pulled her. She threw herself down into the water and struggled with the new experience of swimming under the surface. Number Three hadn't been prepared for the feeling of the submersion and the memories it brought up; for an instant she was back in the tank, in that forced floating sleep, unable to breath or move; suffocating. Gasping, she splashed on the surface of the water and wiped uselessly at her eyes.
She could hear the voices of the men on the beach, men calling to each other, searching for her and in the distance the whirring roar of a helicopter. She swam for the shoreline on the other side of the cliff--she would just have to hope that she was far enough across not to get swept into the walls of the cliff--and reached the beach just as the crack of a machine gun echoed into the air. She ducked her head and ran for cover; over to the rocks and tidal pools. There were several cries from behind her and lots of splashes as bullets hit the waves. Heavier splashes as a few men ran onto the shore behind her; she saw them from her hiding spot--two men in black came stumbling out the surf, going as quickly as possible to get away from the machine fire, and were gunned down; their bodies flew forward as the bullets hit them from behind. Another helicopter flew into the air space and a garbled loud speaker called unintelligently to the enemy. Number Three stayed still, watching the skies with alarm and confusion. Another helicopter was coming towards the others from the opposite corner of the island when men appeared at the top of the cliffs and opened fire on the first helicopter.
Number Three was confused. Now that she had gotten to the rocks, she didn't quite know what to do. Obviously, with all this mayhem, now was the time to act. The likelihood of the chasers seeing her running away was minimal now that they were distracted by this lucky enemy. But she didn't know where to go. Back in the lab, the janitor that freed her hadn't given her very specific instructions. There hadn't been much time. Only enough to pull open her cell door and shove her towards an exit that was mysteriously free of guards. He had been telling her something, fast directions that she could barely understand, that she didn't understand--only the end when the absent guards began arriving and he shoved her towards the beach and called run! run! don't stop, no matter what happens! keep running for the rocks beyond the cliff! keep running! So she had done as he said. She ran, her instincts took over, then she was there. She was at the rocks.
An explosion a few feet from where she was hiding made her cringe behind her rocks. It doesn't matter what the janitor wanted her to do. She had to move. With a quick glance around, Number Three ran back to another rock and then another one. She rock hopped down the beach, away from the fighting. The newest helicopter wasn't helping it's comrade like she expected it would, but dived down to the beach, then back into the sky, maneuvering and evading around the shots of the enemy. It came closer to her, and then away, closer and away. Number Three hid behind the last rock and watched it with annoyance and suspicion. She couldn't get away if the helicopter kept drawing fire towards her.
The explosions and machine gun fire died down. Number Three heard a giant splash and peaked over her rock just in time to see the first helicopter sink into the water. The remaining helicopters turned on each other, but before the enemy could fire it burst into flames and joined the first in the sea. The last helicopter hovered over the wreckage looking for survivors. Number Three took this opportunity to make a run for it.
She sprinted down the beach, heading for the curve in the island. She decided to run straight into the brush, out of sight. Number Three was halfway there when she heard the hum of the helicopter coming after her. She ran like she did before when the men were chasing her. It wasn't enough.
The helicopter roared over her head and dropped down a hundred feet away. It blocked her exit. She'd have to enter the surf to get around it or run up the incline of the sand dune on the other side. Number Three stopped warily. Her head buzzed and her muscles tingled with suspicion and expectation. What were they doing? What was going on? Would
The helicopter hadn't fully stopped before a man dressed in camouflage green jumped out and ran towards her. He kept his arms above his head in a sign of peace and stopped twenty feet away from her.
"Come on!" He called to her over the whir of the helicopter blades. "Let's go!"
Number Three glanced over her shoulder at the remains of the chasers. The people that had been shot down would have taken her back to the lab, where there was nothing but darkness and dust. Nothing new, nothing interesting, where every minute Number Three had wondered if there was more out there. Those people would have taken her back, but what would these people do?
More people came running up at the top of the cliff. One of them stopped and pointed, called something to the rest of them that Number three couldn't hear--there she is!-- and the men knelt down and put the sights of their rifles to their eyes. Number Three ran forward onto the helicopter with the man. Better she was away from the island with some strangers than stuck with the people she knew. Anything was better than the dull confines of the laboratory. She wanted to know what the world was like. She wanted to know what she had been missing out on. There must be more to life than black metal floors, and florescent lights.
Number Three clung to the seat of the open helicopter as it lifted away, soldiers on either side of her firing back at the men on the cliff. They whirred away and around the edge of the land. The turquoise water became a blur as the beach, the island, got farther and farther away. "
It was originally posted on this awesome writing site called Figment.com. It's called The Nine and my screen name is Alexa Reilly. I have another chapter that I might post here later... I don't know. That chapter isn't up on Figment yet. It's called "Number Four".
Luckily for her, Number Three could not remember fear. All she knew was the instinct inside her to correct her misfortune. She kept her knees high and her contact with the sand minimal as she picked up speed. She kept her eyes on her goal; straight ahead, cliffs cut out into the surf. If she could just swim around the jutting rock, she might gain enough time to find a decent hiding place. Then she could plan what to do next.
She reached the cliffs and ran into the water, struggling as the waves pushed her back towards shore. She would have to swim farther out than she thought. The current was too strong.
The positive of that was she could swim under the water and perhaps her chasers would lose sight of her. Number Three caught glimpses of men on the beach shouting at each other. The dune buggy drone was gone. She did not look back. She wouldn't think of what she was running from; of the scientists in the lab with their round goggles and their cold hands; of the compound she had thought for so long was the only world she'd ever see. She wouldn't think of what would happen if the men caught her. Now that she was out, Number Three wouldn't let them take her back. She focused ahead of her, keeping sight of the shoreline, looking for a safe place to come in and hide.
The water was cool on her hot skin and even harder to move in than the sand. Now it felt like she was going backwards. The water was thick. There was too much of it. She had gotten tired from running for so hard so long and now a new bunch muscles were called to keep her safe. Number Three didn't like the feel of the water pressing against her chest and the suspension of her legs as the waves pushed and pulled her. She threw herself down into the water and struggled with the new experience of swimming under the surface. Number Three hadn't been prepared for the feeling of the submersion and the memories it brought up; for an instant she was back in the tank, in that forced floating sleep, unable to breath or move; suffocating. Gasping, she splashed on the surface of the water and wiped uselessly at her eyes.
She could hear the voices of the men on the beach, men calling to each other, searching for her and in the distance the whirring roar of a helicopter. She swam for the shoreline on the other side of the cliff--she would just have to hope that she was far enough across not to get swept into the walls of the cliff--and reached the beach just as the crack of a machine gun echoed into the air. She ducked her head and ran for cover; over to the rocks and tidal pools. There were several cries from behind her and lots of splashes as bullets hit the waves. Heavier splashes as a few men ran onto the shore behind her; she saw them from her hiding spot--two men in black came stumbling out the surf, going as quickly as possible to get away from the machine fire, and were gunned down; their bodies flew forward as the bullets hit them from behind. Another helicopter flew into the air space and a garbled loud speaker called unintelligently to the enemy. Number Three stayed still, watching the skies with alarm and confusion. Another helicopter was coming towards the others from the opposite corner of the island when men appeared at the top of the cliffs and opened fire on the first helicopter.
Number Three was confused. Now that she had gotten to the rocks, she didn't quite know what to do. Obviously, with all this mayhem, now was the time to act. The likelihood of the chasers seeing her running away was minimal now that they were distracted by this lucky enemy. But she didn't know where to go. Back in the lab, the janitor that freed her hadn't given her very specific instructions. There hadn't been much time. Only enough to pull open her cell door and shove her towards an exit that was mysteriously free of guards. He had been telling her something, fast directions that she could barely understand, that she didn't understand--only the end when the absent guards began arriving and he shoved her towards the beach and called run! run! don't stop, no matter what happens! keep running for the rocks beyond the cliff! keep running! So she had done as he said. She ran, her instincts took over, then she was there. She was at the rocks.
An explosion a few feet from where she was hiding made her cringe behind her rocks. It doesn't matter what the janitor wanted her to do. She had to move. With a quick glance around, Number Three ran back to another rock and then another one. She rock hopped down the beach, away from the fighting. The newest helicopter wasn't helping it's comrade like she expected it would, but dived down to the beach, then back into the sky, maneuvering and evading around the shots of the enemy. It came closer to her, and then away, closer and away. Number Three hid behind the last rock and watched it with annoyance and suspicion. She couldn't get away if the helicopter kept drawing fire towards her.
The explosions and machine gun fire died down. Number Three heard a giant splash and peaked over her rock just in time to see the first helicopter sink into the water. The remaining helicopters turned on each other, but before the enemy could fire it burst into flames and joined the first in the sea. The last helicopter hovered over the wreckage looking for survivors. Number Three took this opportunity to make a run for it.
She sprinted down the beach, heading for the curve in the island. She decided to run straight into the brush, out of sight. Number Three was halfway there when she heard the hum of the helicopter coming after her. She ran like she did before when the men were chasing her. It wasn't enough.
The helicopter roared over her head and dropped down a hundred feet away. It blocked her exit. She'd have to enter the surf to get around it or run up the incline of the sand dune on the other side. Number Three stopped warily. Her head buzzed and her muscles tingled with suspicion and expectation. What were they doing? What was going on? Would
The helicopter hadn't fully stopped before a man dressed in camouflage green jumped out and ran towards her. He kept his arms above his head in a sign of peace and stopped twenty feet away from her.
"Come on!" He called to her over the whir of the helicopter blades. "Let's go!"
Number Three glanced over her shoulder at the remains of the chasers. The people that had been shot down would have taken her back to the lab, where there was nothing but darkness and dust. Nothing new, nothing interesting, where every minute Number Three had wondered if there was more out there. Those people would have taken her back, but what would these people do?
More people came running up at the top of the cliff. One of them stopped and pointed, called something to the rest of them that Number three couldn't hear--there she is!-- and the men knelt down and put the sights of their rifles to their eyes. Number Three ran forward onto the helicopter with the man. Better she was away from the island with some strangers than stuck with the people she knew. Anything was better than the dull confines of the laboratory. She wanted to know what the world was like. She wanted to know what she had been missing out on. There must be more to life than black metal floors, and florescent lights.
Number Three clung to the seat of the open helicopter as it lifted away, soldiers on either side of her firing back at the men on the cliff. They whirred away and around the edge of the land. The turquoise water became a blur as the beach, the island, got farther and farther away. "
It was originally posted on this awesome writing site called Figment.com. It's called The Nine and my screen name is Alexa Reilly. I have another chapter that I might post here later... I don't know. That chapter isn't up on Figment yet. It's called "Number Four".
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