More Than a Machine

An Almost Escape

i didnt proofread this so have fun finding weird half-finished sentences 

   Hunter led the way down several flights of stairs. Finally, they reached an exit at the bottom and it led out to the parking garage.

  The hospital was right in the middle of the city. Even as Hunter and 642 stepped outside, they could hear city sounds; heavy traffic and sirens and construction in the distance.

  642 followed Hunter out the door. Hunter spoke as they walked, "I think you should head towards downtown. Cops will have more trouble finding you there, there's so many people."

  642 nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. And you?"

  Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "Marie will probably call Theo and he'll come get me. Cops will probably ask me some questions." He'd been in trouble before; the consequences for this couldn't be all that bad.

  As he spoke, he slowed to a stop. This was as far as he'd go. "So.. I guess I won't see you again."

  He wanted to tell 642 that he'd miss him, that he was the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had. Part of him wanted to run away with 642. But even he knew that would be a bad idea.

  642 nodded. He came to a stop too, and Hunter could see that his face had become solemn. "I guess so."

  642 didn't want to leave. This was the closest he had to a family. How could he leave this behind?

  But I don't deserve a family.

  It was true, he didn't. He didn't deserve anything good. But then why, after every time he found himself in trouble, did good people always help him?

  There was Halsa, there was Marie. And now Hunter.

  Why did they show him kindness?

  Did they have any idea what he'd done? What he could do, what he was made for? He'd tried not to think of it, and he had for awhile, but it was always coming back to him, always reminding him of what he did and did not deserve.

  "I'm unworthy of your help, Hunter," he finally said. "You have done so much for me. How can I repay you?"

  Hunter shook his head. "I don't know. It's okay. Maybe, someday you can come back to see—"

  Hunter cut short. A clamoring sound came from the stairwell. Loud footsteps echoed from the other side of the door.

  Both boys turned to look.

  The exit door burst open.

  A police officer rushed out. No, two officers. No. Three.

  Hunter whirled to look at 642. "Go! Go!"

  642 hesitated for a split second. Then he took off running.

  "Stop!" An officer yelled.

  642 did not stop.

  Running again.

  He was always running.

  I wasn't born for this.

  He should stop and fight. Even now, weak and tired as he had become, he was sure he could take the three officers.

  But why?

  These people weren't clones, like him, which he'd killed so many of before. These people were better than clones. They were real, he knew that, and they were humans. They didn't deserve a death at his hand.

  Besides, Hunter was nearby. He might get in the way. 642 would not risk his friend getting hurt.

  He kept running. Without shoes, his metal foot hit the pavement with a clang and echoed through the parking garage as he ran.

  642 didn't like the sound. I'll have to fix that.

  Footsteps of the officers echoed close behind him. Quieter, dulled noises thanks to the shoes on their feet. 642 envied them for that.

  Movement straight ahead caught 642's eye.

  The movement belonged to a figure, a person. The person rose up from behind a pair of parked cars. They stepped into 642's path.

  They stood just far enough into the shadows so that 642 could not make out their face. He did see, however, a flash of metal as they raised some sort of weapon. The weapon was aimed right at him.

  642 moved swiftly. He dove behind a parked vehicle.

  The weapon fired in the same instant.

  Ha! Idiot missed, 642 thought. He ducked low and glanced at his surroundings, trying to formulate a plan.

  Something stung his shoulder.

  Hadn't they missed?

  No.

  642 looked down. Something strange had pierced his skin. A small, sharp object that looked like a dart of some sort.

  642 had never seen this sort of thing before but he knew it wasn't good. He cursed and hurriedly ripped it out.

  He could barely complete the action. As he moved, his arm almost seemed to grow heavy. The dart fell from his hand. He didn't even hear it hit the floor.

  And then the world around him began to spin. Slowly. Slowly. His eyes would not focus. The very ceiling seemed to be falling down, or closing in on him.

  The ceiling?

  Yes, he was looking up at it now. He'd fallen on his back. Strange, he didn't even feel that.

  Tranquilizer, 642 thought, almost a minute after the fact. Even the thought came to him at a snail's pace.

  Around him, he became vaguely aware that the police officer's had come to a stop.

  The parking garage grew silent.

  "You're out of your jurisdiction here, sir," one of the officers, a woman, started to say. But she wasn't talking to 642.

  "No, you're the one out of line, officer," a voice replied. A cold, business-like voice. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. This man isn't human. We'll be taking over from here."

  The voices sounded so far away. As if from behind a cloud, muffled and dreary. 642 could barely make out the words. And now he could barely see. Things were growing dark...

  Around him, somewhere, he heard more footsteps echoing. Approaching him. He felt a hand touch his arm.

  They're going to take me apart.