Chapter 7 - The Running Man Mk. II
The following takes place immediately after Michael talks to Walt for the second time . . .
Hello?
>: Hello?
Who is this?
>: This is Michael. Who is this?
Dad?
>: Walt?
You have to come and get me. NOW.
>: Where are you?
They’re coming back. Must go. They’re keeping me undergr -
It was at that moment the screen returned to black . . .
Michael ran, a rifle slung over his shoulder. He’d just left two of his friends trapped in the armoury. There was no room for sympathies now though, he had to get his son back, one way or another.
Walt hadn’t finished his last sentence, but Michael knew enough. His son was underground. In one of those hatches. Finding one would be lucky, finding the right one was something else entirely. He had to try. He felt as though he owed it to Walt, and also to himself.
He knew as soon as Jack and Locke got out, they would come after him. He wasn’t going back. They’d have to shoot him. He pounded on through the trees, stumbling countless times. Breathless, he looked all around him. How do you look for one of these things? They could be anywhere!, He decided to keep running, and keep the faith that he’d get lucky.
Night was falling, still he’d found nothing, he was running around blindly. Exhausted, he finally stopped at the sound of something moving through the trees. Instinctively he fired a shot into the dark. The bullet rebounded off something. A loud clanging sound filled the air. Michael ran towards where he’d shot at. He fired again, straight ahead. Another clang. Moving towards the sound once more he was faced by a wall of vines. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder, scanning what he saw in front of him. He pulled back the vines and there it was - a door. Michael stepped back in amazement. Had he found it? There was only one way to find out . . .
Desmond woke. His first thoughts were of Kelvin and his men. Moving out to the walkway he realised they were yet to return. He got himself some food from the bunker’s pantry. Food, provided by the mysterious Austen, whom Kelvin seemed to be relying on for a lot of things. It was unusually cold in the bunker. The door leading to the elevator was open, Desmond noticed from the walkway. THUD!, He didn’t get a chance to investigate as something smashed into the side of his head. He dropped to the floor like a stone . . .
Chapter 8 - Ambush
Kelvin and his men walked all through the day, hardly making a sound. They stuck as close to the coastline as they could, occasionally having to cut inland. As the skies began to darken they used only one flashlight, keeping the risk of being spotted from afar at a minimum. Mullins, who was a boy scout in his younger years, lead the way, his knowledge of terrain being of great use.
Kelvin checked his watch, surprised it still worked throughout all these years. 11:38 PM - they were close. Suddenly Mullins stopped, motioning that he would go on ahead and scout the area. He disappeared into the trees without a sound. The ground sloped upwards ahead of him, reaching the top he cleared the bushes and looked down. There it was - the dock. There were about 20 people on it, all of them seemed very busy, they were all dressed in the same clothes - grey jumpsuits and Mullins could just make out the Hanso Foundation logo on the back. All of them except for one man, who stood at the edge of the pier dressed in a black, obviously expensive suit. He stood staring out to the sea. Waiting. Expecting.
Mullins returned back down the slope to where the others were waiting, he beckoned for them to follow. Reaching the top of the slope Kelvin peered down at the brightly lit dock. They waited. Ten minutes passed before a light appeared far out on the rolling ocean. It was weak at first, but grew stronger as each minute passed. Eventually, a boat became visible.
Suddenly Kelvin got up and disappeared into the jungle.
“Kelvin!” Mullins called after him. Nothing. The boat would be docking in about 10 minutes, they had to move fast and Kelvin vanishing like that didn’t help. He returned two minutes later. He was carrying a cardboard box in his hands.
The men were puzzled. What was this?
Kelvin grinned and said,
“I forgot to say, Austen left us a nice present, just where I could find it”,
He tore open the box and inside were the same jumpsuits the men on the dock were wearing.
“How did you know where to find ‘em?” Sam asked.
“Well Austen told me that there was a ridge above the dock and that he’d left us a nice surprise close by it”, Kelvin replied, taking all the clothing from the bag.
“There’s only enough for a few of us, so some of you are gonna be staying here”, Kelvin said.
“I will”, Sam volunteered.
“You sure?”, Kelvin asked.
Sam nodded.
“Ok then, lets get suited up folks”, Kelvin said, putting on one of the suits.
“We’ll go in round the back, blend in, get onto the ship and put the chemicals in a bag. Sneak outta there, take ‘em back and find out just what the hell they are. Am I clear?” Kelvin asked.
They all nodded.
“Ok, Mullins, Johnson, Cooper - let’s move.” Kelvin said, making his way along the ridge. They were all equipped with tranquillisers and grenades.
They made there way down the ridge and hid in some bushes. A few Hanso employees passed, and soon fell from the darts embedded in their backs.
Kelvin and his men quickly pulled the unconscious men into the bushes and made their way casually out to the dock.
Despite coming this far, Kelvin sensed something wasn’t right. They were being watched. Suddenly a shot rang out. Instinctively Kelvin dived into the bushes, quickly getting up and running before anyone had a chance to catch him. The others on the dock weren’t so lucky. Cooper had a bullet in his shoulder and they were surrounded by Hanso guards, all wielding rifles. The game was up.
“You move, you die”, one of the guards barked at them.
More shots rang out, this time from up on the ridge. Sam and the others were firing back.
“After them!”, the guard shouted.
The Hanso guards poured into the jungle. The men on the ridge fled. The chase was on.
Sam shouted at his men to keep moving. They were running blindly. Gunshots tore up the ground and trees around them, Sam fired back in reply. The only light in the jungle was from a full moon eerily illuminating the jungle, gunshots still ripped through the trees around Sam.
Then suddenly, all was quiet.
Sam still didn’t stop, he had to get back to the bunker. Where did they go from here? Mullins, Johnson and Cooper were captured, Kelvin and the rest were nowhere to be seen, he just hoped to God that nothing had happened to
Desmond . . .
Chapter 9 - The Interrogater
“Where’s my boy?”
“Where’s Walt?”
“What are you talking about?” Desmond was awake, barely. His vision was blurred. His head throbbed. He could just make out a black man standing in front of him. He tried to move, he couldn’t. He was tied to a desk. He noticed the man had a gun, and he looked pretty panicked.
“What the hell did you do with him?”, the man asked again.
“I’ve not got a clue what your talkin’ about, brother”, Desmond replied, he thought the guy was crazy.
The man wasn’t happy with that reply and punched Desmond hard in the jaw.
Desmond’s head lolled backwards, he could taste blood in his mouth.
“Don’t play stupid with me, I know you’ve got him”, the man told him, seething with anger.
Who the hell was this guy? Desmond wasn’t sure.
“Got who, brother?”, Desmond had a bad feeling about this guy.
“MY SON!”, the man screamed, punching Desmond again.
He was seeing double now. There didn’t seem much chance of convincing this guy.
“You got the wrong people, brother. I don’t know anything about your son”, Desmond told him.
“Stop lyin’ man!” The man shouted again.
“I’m not lying, brother. I don‘t know what I‘d be lying about!”, Desmond said, a little angrily.
The man punched him again, much harder this time. The dizziness took over and Desmond passed out again . . .
Michael was growing frustrated. The man wouldn’t tell him anything, yet Michael was sure he was lying. He looked around the room. What are these places?, Michael wondered. Keeping his gun at the ready he made his way up one of the stair cases. There were three doors. Opening the first he saw two bunk beds inside, there were empty bowls and cups on the floor. A old, tattered book lay on one of the beds. Michael picked it up and read the title,
SF Creative Writing - A Compilation. He laid it back down and moved out onto the walkway once more. The man was still out cold. The next room was full of food. All the items had the same brands on them -
The Hanso Foundation. That logo was different from those on the doors. What was the connection?, Michael thought. He moved to the last room - more bunk beds. Sighing and growing more frustrated Michael moved to the other walkway. He moved into the first room and saw three TV screens on the walls. Two were smashed and the other flashed slightly. Michael knocked on the side of the flashing screen. It flashed on, the picture was grainy but Michael could see that he was looking at a corridor. He stared at it for a minute, nothing happened, the corridor remained empty. He was about to turn away when he saw three men being lead down the corridor in handcuffs, rifles being jammed into the backs of two of them. The other was being dragged along the floor seemingly unconscious, or dead. Michael was eager to keep watching but was distracted by a noise above him. Someone had entered the elevator . . .
Michael rushed down the stairs, gripping his rifle tightly. He opened the door and looked to the elevator shaft. It would be down in a matter of seconds. Michael began to panic, How many of them are coming? Will they attack me?, He didn’t have time to think anymore. The elevator reached the bottom and the gate opened and in the elevator sat a man, he was barely conscious, but his eyes lit up when he saw Michael, there was a gun at his side and he instinctively reached for it. He was too late. Michael pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the mans chest. Slowly the gate closed and the elevator made its way back to the top . . .
The rain pounded down on Sam as he trudged through the jungle. He hadn’t found anyone. Not Kelvin. Not any of the other men. He’d ran and walked all night. The rain was welcome to him at this point. The Hanso men gave up chasing him after about ten minutes. He did hear gunshots and shouts from another direction though, he feared the worst for the others. He walked and walked and walked, the rain showed no signs of stopping, there was no sign of anyone in the jungle. Suddenly the terrain around him became familiar. He’d been here before. He started running again, getting faster and faster as he speeded through the trees until he was faced with the familiar wall of vines. A smile crept across his face. He’d made it back alive. He just hoped he wasn’t the only one. Moving the vines to one side he gripped the handles and heaved the doors open, still smiling. Suddenly his smiles turned to disbelief as he looked inside the elevator. He could barely believe his eyes as he looked at the motionless body in front of him.
“Kelvin?” He choked . . .
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