Chapter One - Part Two
Jack stumbled about blindly. It was a strange sensation that he felt, as if he could not find himself. Smoke and dust clouded the hallway around him. His breathing came in steady gasps, his head bobbing up and down like a buoy on the sea. Screams and yells met his ears, but none of it seemed understandable. He could not comprehend that moment, simply moving around without purpose.
He took a step forward, emerging suddenly out of the smoke. Cursing loudly, he jumped back. As the veil was finally lifted, he found himself standing on the edge of a great drop, the wall before him torn open entirely, revealing the gray, pock-marked street below. He stood there for a moment, simply regaining control of himself.
His view spread to other parts of the factory. No inch of it seemed undamaged, smoke and fire rising up all around him. The national flag that he saw everyday on his walk to work was aflame, an enormous red one taking its place.
He turned, facing what remained of the test labs. Several bodies littered the floor, including the very scientist that was going to sentence him to death. It hit him then. He had been saved. He was free. By some miracle, he was free.
A loud crack reverberated through the hall. Jack ducked instinctively. He knew that noise. It came again and again in a pattern. It came from everywhere; outside, below, everywhere. It was gunfire. He threw himself against a wall. Whatever was happening, he knew one thing: he had to get out.
He took a single breath, preparing himself. Recent memories seemed distant as he scrambled to remember the path back to the machine room. Another shot rang off, this one closer than the others. He was off without another thought, shooting down the hall and around the corner.
The elevator door appeared out of the slowly clearing smoke. Jack smashed his hand down on the button, standing absolutely still. There was a slow winding, then a click. The door opened, revealing the dark emptiness of the elevator shaft. He threw his fist against the wall, turning. There had to be another way out.
The hallway was like an intersection, the path from the elevator leading to a three others. One would lead back to where he had come from. The other two might lead to an escape. He wandered forward without care or worry, stumbling out into the center of the intersection. There was an ominous cacophony of ticks from beside him.
He turned his head to the noise, his mouth wide. A group of men stood there, all wearing workman’s clothing, a red burette placed atop each of their heads. These details meant little, however, to Jack, the presence of their automatic weapons, each pointing directly at him, blackening his view of each of them.
The man in front, his shoulders cuffed with two red plates, lifted his hand. In unison, they nodded, parting to make a path for Jack to go through, saluting him.
“Escape this oppression, fellow worker. The day has come for us to throw off the shackles of Capitalism,” the leader said. “The Red Army has come to wreak vengeance on your former masters.”
Awestruck, Jack moved slowly down the open shaft between the ranks of the Red soldiers. A door stood at the far end of the hallway, a small image of a staircase sitting atop it, glowing slightly green. A route to freedom!
One of the Soldiers looked up, tapping the wall. At this signal, the soldiers of the Red Army formed up again, rifles bared, ready to attack. The sound of light footsteps emerged from the hall to their right. Jack glanced over his shoulder, slowing himself.
One of the soldiers looked to his feet as if he had felt something.
“Grenade!” he roared, picking the cursed object up from the ground and hurling it through the air.
The entire group held its breath, watching as the small, silvery object soared through the calm air. There was a single beep. Then, Hell. Jack leapt away, the hallway exploding with light a flame. Dozens of figures emerged from the hallway opposite, the guns in their hands blaring with life, though their delivery was death.
A bullet soared by Jack’s shoulder. There was no hesitation, his body choosing quickly between fight and flight. The door approached, though it seemed that each step took it further away. The spitting of bullets seemed incessant, neither side giving ground. Finally, after one last stride, the door was within reach. Jack threw himself onto it, falling out onto the hard, stone floor of the stairwell.
The door shut with a light bang. Several more shots rang out from beyond it, and then there was silence. Jack stood, waiting, listening. There was a small ruckus and several murmurs.
“All dead, sir. Area clear. Moving on to stairwell A,” a cool voice said after a moment.
They were coming. Leaping down three steps at a time, Jack blasted down the stairs. Adrenaline took over, his body seemingly tireless. The door opened quietly several flights above. There was a succession of footsteps as the group descended after him. He increased his speed, watching as the numbers on the walls steadily decreased.
Five, four, three.
“Someone’s down there!” a voice cried.
“Give yourself up and you won’t be hurt!” said another.
Two, one, ground.
Taking a final leap, Jack’s feet met solid ground. He looked around. To his back were the stairs. Ahead of him was a door. There was nothing else. There was only one path out. Sighing, he turned the knob on the door, slipping into the room beyond.
He had entered the inferno. Barely recognizable as the machine room, each massive tool that he had ever used now burned, fuel doused over top of them. The sounds of repetitive gunfire came from across the room, along with the screams and cries of pain from both sides. He glanced up at the wall. He was in the Capsule section. Taking a left, he charged down the small divide between two machines.
The door opened behind him, his pursuers flooding out. They looked around, confused.
“Which way, sir?” one asked.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone,” said the head of the unit.
Jack said a silent prayer; to who, he did not know, but to someone. Taking hold of a structural column, he swung around the corner. Before him he saw the entry area, dozens of trucks parked in front of enormous gateways. He remembered it then. His eyes shooting to the far end of the area, he spotted the small fire exit door. This was his chance.
He made for it, leaping over a small line of flames and sliding across the ground, stumbling and tripping. Somehow, he managed to keep his balance, sprinting across the open ground of the entry area. Bullets ricocheted from the floor around him as a few of the factory guards noticed him. They had enough on their hands, soon returning to the battle at hand.
The door slid open with a light touch. All at once, dozens of klaxons exploded to light, sending a pinkish red light across the machine room, still engulfed in flames.
Jack didn’t look back, still running. He passed a few stock houses, watching as smoke emerged from their roofs and windows. A fence lined the entire area around the factory. The gate stood just ahead of him, already ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. As he ran on, the air thickened, building up into a sick yellow. He rubbed his mask gratefully.
Taking that final step, he emerged on the other side of the fence. He was free.
