I was running.
Why, you ask? Your guess is as good as mine. One could say it was nothing but a sudden burst of foolish audacity. Either that or the events that had unfolded this morning must have short-circuited my brain and it was no longer functioning. All of those people… dead… how did it happen, I still didn’t know, and did it really happen, I still didn’t know. Was this all just a twisted nightmare and nothing was real? A figment of my imagination which is equally twisted?
There was no time to think; the vehicles were closing in, gaining every second, their loud sirens blaring endlessly. I heard a distant voice, a series of shouts, the loading of a gun… I sprinted onwards. I could only hope that everyone else was okay.
Then, the bullet hit me. That’s when I grasped the full reality of what happened.
I woke up in a pitch-black room. I tried to move my arms to try and get a bearing of my surroundings, but they wouldn’t budge: something cold and metallic held them together. I tried moving my legs, which were also held firmly in place. Neither my eyes nor any other aspect of my body could assist me. Was I already in a prison cell? Did the others get away in time?
My questions were silenced by the sudden emergence of a light source, revealing the environment I was in: the interrogation room of a jail. My hands and legs were handcuffed to a desk that may have been gray, but had long since last its color. Gray walls were the only things I could see. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling.
A single iron door broke up the monotony of the location, and it marked the only way to the outside world. The window was blacked out, but a small crack between the ground and the entrance allowed me to hear a great deal of noise. Something interesting was happening, and a lot of people were involved.
The commotion and my situation were becoming difficult to handle… I felt as though my sanity was going away from me. The school, the explosion, the chase… now stuck in this dark prison.
No clocks were hanging around. Time dragged on, each second lasting as long as an hour. It was as though life was slowly being drained away from my body, spilling over the table and onto the floor, leaving me hollow and practically crazy.
I felt a feeling of loneliness quickly take hold of me, combined with my fear of losing the others. I turned my head and noticed something on the right wall; there was a glass panel there. It was relatively large and occupied a large portion of the wall. I couldn’t see through it, but I knew there were people on the other side of it watching me.
It was like those police movies with the detectives debating how to approach the criminal. They were in there talking about me like I was a felon, a dangerous man, one that couldn’t be trusted. They would have their witnesses and the cops with the evidence, figuring out how to lock me away and destroy my life.
I guess, to an outsider, I certainly looked interesting; my clothes were scratched and torn, with my body boasting various scars. Some still leaked blood. I felt sore from all of the constant fighting and running, and the punishment my body took was more so than usual.
As far as I was concerned, everything should be finished. I wanted to go and find some place to rest my head and sleep. I wanted to rest, I wanted to be with my comrades… but here I was placed, facing conviction, an uncertain fate.
Some sort of hatred began to build inside of me. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly wanted to tear the men hiding behind the glass apart. They trapped me in here and locked me away. It was their fault that I was separated from my friends, whose fate was, at the moment, uncertain.
They could be dead. Missing. Killed. Something awful could have happened and those men were restraining me.
My hatred soon morphed into desperation. I needed an opportunity to break out of here. It was my duty to make sure they were okay. I abandoned them with an ambiguous outcome.
“I want my phone call,” I said simply.
I don’t know why I said that. I knew that a phone call would be one of the many things the police force wouldn’t grant me. I guess this was another sign of my sanity slipping through my fingers. My friends didn’t even have phones on them.
“I want my phone call!”
I could call someone. Maybe one of them had a phone. It was a possibility that the networks were back up. I continued to shout at the people hiding behind the glass.
“I want my phone call, I want my phone call, I want my phone call…” my voice called out unremittingly until it became sore.
One procession of noises dominated the others. There was the sound of a door opening, then footsteps which sounded as though they were coming towards me. I heard a conversation between two officers who were outside of the entrance to the room I was in. My shouting stopped instantly so I could hear them, my eyes nervously aimed at the door, only to immediately shoot back to the glass as though I felt I was letting them off the hook to easily.
“Did you learn much from the girl?” I heard one say.
“No… just crazy talk. Something about a virus, zombies…it’s a load of crap if you ask me.”
“She might just be crazy. Go in there and interrogate the boy, see if he has anything to say.”
“Talk to him? With all due respect sir, this whole thing is bullshit. There’s nothing else to interrogate for.”
“We all know it’s crazy. No one’s used to this and we weren’t prepared for it. That being said, we need to know exactly what the hell happened.”
“A couple of dipshits bombed a school, what else is there to know?”
“Everybody that’s anybody wants a report about what happened. Do your job and figure out what happened. I’ll be the judge on this.”