Mortal - Chapter 13

Premise: In this young-adult dystopian novel, people can no longer die. But they still feel pain, and suffer--and it's maddening. Because of the chaos that ensued, the US Government created a program to figure out how to kill people. When Garrett, a teenager, falls into a coma for weeks as a result of an experiment, the Program sets its malicious sights on him.

This is the twelfth chapter of the novel, Mortal. Click here for the beginning of the story. Or, click here for Chapter 11.

Abel and I leave the rec room as soon as Therese starts screaming. We walk passively towards the elevator as assistants begin to enter the room, seemingly unaware of the spectacle that awaits them. Once we past the small cluster of assistants, we take a sharp turn and head towards the joining metal doors. We stop for a moment while Abel looks through the narrow, rectangular glass inside one of the doors. I wipe my hands on my pants, feeling sweaty. My whole body jitters with the fear of the unknown, just like it does every test day.

And this is just like a test. Only death won’t be the hoped for result, but life.

Abel pulls his face from the window, and nods to me before pushing open the door. My nose twitches as I inhale slightly, breathing in the sudden change of aroma.  My feet drag against the carpet while I gingerly slide my fingers across the smooth wall behind Abel. Every part of my being wants me to run, to get this over with, to be fast—to be irresponsible. I have to keep telling myself that won’t work. Not now, at least.

Ahead of us is the Secretary’s office, and seeing it makes my gut wrench. Everything is dependent on that room. I swallow hard as I stare into the mahogany wood. Abel grips my wrist and tugs me to the side, behind the corner, and in the hallway that leads to a few closed doors that open to I don’t know what. Even though our movements have been slow, I’m panting, and Abel presses a finger to his lip. I close my eyes, and rest my head against the wall, trying to calm my breaths. I open my eyes when I hear eager footfalls, and I move my face closer to the corner to see whoever is coming. My body tenses, and I pull back once I see an assistant, a young man, hurriedly stride up the hall, wringing his hands before he pulls open the door to the Secretary’s office.

All is going to plan. But it is now all dependent on the Secretary.

“What’s the matter?” the Secretary snaps angrily. Clearly, he has a thing for manners.

“So-sorry, sir,” the assistant stutters, “The scientists told me to get you right-right away.”

“Well, spit it out,” the Secretary urges with a hint of sarcasm.

“In the recreational room, sir,” the assistant begins, “Someone’s gone crazy.”

There’s a pause, “…Garrett?” Paracot suddenly sounds curious.

“No, it’s 509628,” the assistant replies.

There’s another pause, slightly longer as the Secretary considers the number, “The girl?”

“Yes.”

I can hear the muffling of some sounds, and I lean my head in closer trying to figure out what they might be. My heart almost rips through my chest when the assistant and the Secretary move past us with agile movements. I clutch at my chest, wincing, once they disappear from view. It seems my heart is not yet fully healed.

“Are you all right?” Abel asks me softly.

I nod curtly, and drop my hand to my side. So I was right. The Secretary couldn’t resist someone as nuts as I was. Abel opens the door to the office and I follow through. My feet stop moving, and cold chills pass over me as I look into the lens of the camera. How could we have been so stupid?

Yet Abel doesn’t seem so worried as he moves behind the Secretary’s desk to look at the window. “Abel!” I gasp out, “The camera!”

“It’s okay,” he mutters, as he bends over to examine the edges of the window. I flinch at his response because it doesn’t make any sense. At all.

Eventually he decides to elaborate, “The Secretary’s video camera is post observational. Meaning, he won’t look at the tapes until after the fact.” Abel clears his throat, “There isn’t any way to open the window. No locks, no latches…”

I blink as I get over the cold fear of the camera, “Then we’ll have to break it,” I say, and go to the window myself. I tap my knuckles against the pane, estimating its strength, while I scan the room for anything that could shatter the glass. I stare at the Secretary’s chair, biting my lip. It is certainly sturdy enough to break the window, just probably not by me— I couldn’t lift it and slam it hard enough into the window for it to break. Something catches my eye on the bookshelf and I move over to it, giving the hallway a quick check as I cross the room. I balance on the balls of my feet as I grab at the metallic world globe. It is pure iron, and small enough for me to get good hold on it. I nod to myself before pulling it off the shelf.

“Garrett.”

I jerk my head towards Abel, my stomach twisting, thinking the worst. That the Secretary was returning to his room. But instead, it’s the best. One of the desk drawers is opened, and Abel is holding up a leather wallet. That idiot left his wallet. And now we have money. Abel pulls out all the dollar bills and one credit card before returning the wallet to the drawer. He pockets the money as I move back to the window preparing to swing.

“So far, so good, eh?” I say, forcing a grin.

Abel doesn’t respond, and I have to agree. Now isn’t the time.

I strain the muscles in my arms before I swing the globe like a baseball bat, and it collides with the window. I hear a sickening crack, like the sound of breaking bones. I examine the roots of the crack before swinging again, and this time, the glass shatters.

Shards hit my hands as an alarm blares. I drop the globe, and want to cover my ears, but Abel screams, “Come on!” And I remember what I’m trying to do, what’s at stake, and we both jump out the window.

Our feet crunch against the pieces of glass surrounded by a sea of green…Grass. I hadn’t seen it in more than a year.  Rays of sun assault my eyes. I scrunch them shut and smile. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the sun.

“Garrett, let’s go!” Abel shouts over the alarm.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the daze, and I sprint forward, behind Abel, not knowing where the hell I am going or where I even am. I can tell by the looming skyscrapers that we’re in some city. I glance up at the sky as I run. It’s a bright blue with scattered smog disguised as clouds. Our shoes hit concrete, the sidewalk, and I’m able to get a better look at the building we’ve been living in. It’s a nameless, concrete building, and it’s not the same as the one on the TV. I wonder why the government chose to have the program in the middle of a big city, and why the grounds weren’t muddled with electric fences and barbed wire. I guess it’s about appearances. The last thing the government wants is attention.

I nearly run into Abel when he stops at a crosswalk. Cars zoom past us, and Abel presses a button on the metal street lamp. I stare into the street blankly, as thoughts wash over my mind, and assure me of the world’s familiarity. I want to gag because it’s difficult to breathe out here, but so far, it’s the only thing that’s worse than Project Eden. Abel is popping his fingers as we wait. This seems foolish. We just escaped Project Eden and cars are stopping us from living our lives.

“Abel,” I begin warily as I look down the street to see when the line of cars will end. It doesn’t. “Why are we just-“

“”We’ll get hit,” he responds, almost whining in desperation, “We can’t…”

I turn my head back to the concrete building and panic grazes my skin. About five guards, like the man with the gun, run towards us.

“Abel!” I shriek as I push him forward when there’s a large enough gap between the traveling cars. I get a hold of his wrist and run through the street, car horns blast in my ear as they screech to a halt, trying to not hit us as we avoid capture.

My heart pounds in my head as we run down the sidewalk. My hand is slick with sweat, and it’s difficult to hold onto Abel. It’s obvious that Project Eden and Time have not been kind to him, for his slow movements are causing me worry. I swerve my head all over the place, trying to find how we can escape these men. I know we are at a disadvantage. The city is completely foreign to me, and I don’t have the slightest idea where the train station is.

I run along the side of the building walls, distancing myself from the loud and foul smelling cars. Ahead of me there’s a thick corner of a brick building, the rest of the sidewalk hidden, and I quicken my pace, knowing that might be the only way to lose them. “Come on, Abel,” I grit my teeth as I yank him to the right, and we continue running. Surely they wouldn’t follow us forever, right? Surely they’d give up soon?

“Do you see them, Abel?” I pant, my legs begin to burn, and it feels like the stitches are being ripped from my heart. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look back.

“Yes,” he gasps.

My stomach drops a little, and I focus my gaze forward, looking for another quick turn. The sidewalk seems to last an eternity. It begins to fill with people as we get deeper into the city. I am forced to bump into people or knock them out of the way in order to keep my speed. They respond with harsh words and shouts. I clench my jaw.

They have no right.

Abel trips in a crack in the sidewalk, his momentum sending me forward, and I land on my knees and palms. My stomach lurches as I push myself to my feet and hold out a hand for Abel who gratefully takes it. His balding head is wet with sweat and his hazel eyes wide. I grimace. I know we can’t run forever.

But it seems we have no other choice.

I hear the sickening echo of an explosion, and I jolt into a sprint, pulling Abel behind me. There are hysteric screams from behind us and ahead, as people on the sidewalk fall to the ground, covering their heads.

Oh, great. They’re shooting at us. Abel was right about their desperation. Chills finger my spine with the sound of every bullet ricocheting off buildings, hitting the ground or a body of softness followed by an agonizing wail. Eventually people start rising to their feet and begin to walk again. After all, a bullet certainly isn’t going to kill you.

Abel grunts as we turn again, and I ask him with a morbid smile, “You okay, old man?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “I’m fine.”

We run on the sidewalk of a small street between two massive buildings. There’s a slight angle in which they lean closer together, and if you look up to the top, you can barely see a crack of blue sky.

Abel’s pace begins to decline at an alarming rate. We’re almost walking when he finally tells me what’s wrong, “Garrett…I think I’ve been shot.”

“How bad?” I ask him, trying to be calm, but I’m actually about to throw up. I glance back down the street, and I can’t find the guards anywhere, but that’s not saying much in the mass of faceless people. I take his arm and wrap it around my neck and pin it to my shoulder with my hand. My other arm coils around his back and, I lead him forward.

“Bad,” he moans.

The red in his shirt is growing while I practically carry him, looking for somewhere that we could hide, so that I can examine his wound. Some people passing us glance at the blood for a brief moment, their faces expressionless, and then they look ahead like it’s no big deal.

It seems the Secretary is right too.

I find a long alley and turn into it. It’s quiet and old and has the smell of garbage and disease. I rest Abel against the brick wall, beside a dumpster. I squat in front of him, my eyes trapped by the red of his shirt. Abel pants like he’s about to die.

I gently lift Abel’s shirt to look at the wound. I bite my lip, not knowing what to do. The bullet hit the side of his stomach. The hole oozes blood and some other liquid that I don’t care to ever know about. It definitely is bad.

I bang the back of my head against the dumpster and growl in frustration. We’re in trouble, we’re definitely in trouble. I rub my hands down my face as I try to figure out a way to get Abel to the train, wherever that might be. I can’t. I can tell by the glassy look in his eye that he doesn’t want to continue. Unfortunately, that’s not an option.

I tear off the bottom of my shirt and press it to his wound, “Hold this,” I say, and place his hand on the cloth.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch the piece of my white shirt turn red. I’m worried that if the guards get close enough to me, I might freak out again, and I’m worried that before the end of the day, we’ll be back at Eden. “Do you know what city we’re in?” I ask glumly, resting my elbows on my knees.

“Denver, I believe,” he gasps.

“And do you know where the train station is?”

“No.”

“I guess we can wait ‘till night and then leave.” I shift on the ground, resting my ankles under my legs. My stomach growls, and my throat is dry, but I don’t say anything, I don’t have a bullet in my side.

“No.”

“No?” I echo, and my chest tightens. He’s given up. He wants to die, but he can’t. He’ll return to Eden and have his soul and mind die instead. I pretend to ignore the obvious, “You want to leave now?”

“You need to leave…without me,” he chokes out, pressing his face into the grimy wall.

I frown as dread and sadness and fear and anger simmer in my veins. I decide to voice the anger. “No,” I growl, my brow furrowing, “I’m not leaving you.”

“Garrett…” he exhales raggedly as his droopy eyes face me, “I can’t continue like this. I’ll only hold you back.”

“Then I’ll get medicine, take you to the hospital,” I suggest coolly, “But I’m not leaving you.”

He only shakes his head.

I clench my fists and my face feels hot. Already I had to leave the only life I was sure of. Already I had to leave Therese. I am not going to abandon him too. My eyes prickle and I quickly blink back the coming tears. I can’t do this by myself.

“You’re being selfish,” I say through a clenched jaw, “You’re the one who came up with the idea of escaping. You’re the one that promised me!” I can’t bring myself to say it, to say anything more. My whole body shakes because I know that I won’t be able to force him. And there’s an unsettling knot in my stomach telling me I’ll have to leave this alley alone.

“I…I promised,” Abel swallows, his face ghostly pale and pasty, “I promised to keep you safe. And that’s what I’m doing.”

I see this man, crumpled against the wall, and I can’t breathe. I can only stare at him, the man who comforted me when I first entered the program, the man that would always listen and never expect a favor in return, the man that protected me from Joe. The man that saved me from Eden. The man that is more like father than my real one ever could be.

I lean forward and grip his cold hand tightly. “I don’t want to leave you,” I say softly, “Let me do something for you for once…”

Abel looks up to me with somber eyes, “Then leave.”

I nod my head curtly, looking away.

“Take the money,” he rasps out.

Numbly, I open his pocket and shove the dollar bills into one of my own, biting the inside of my cheek. My throat is raw and tingling as I watch him, knowing what to do, but reluctant.

“Go,” he urges me.

“Okay,” my voice cracks. I press my hands to the sides of his face and put my lips to his clammy forehead. I pull away and shakily rise to my feet. I see that look in his eye and it curdles my stomach. He knows the guards will find them. He knows they will bring him back to Eden. He knows the Secretary will punish him. He knows that I will leave. He knows that he will never die.

I walk away without saying goodbye, biting hard on my lip as I abandon him to all of which he knows. And that I know.

Knowing is far worse than not.

 Thank you so much for reading! I'll see you soon! xoxo, Liv