Running Home

Something Close

My hopes that the nurse would be a woman were utterly obliterated as soon as he walked in. Of course, as I should have guessed he was male. Just like everyone else.

He was pretty short, or at least shorter than both of the boys. He had close-cropped hair, in a similar style to Patrick's. Actually, everything looked similar to Patrick, especially his eyes and nose. He must be Patrick's dad.

"Hey, Mr. Ingram," Nolan said. "It's her ankle."

"Yes, so Jamie informed me," he replied.

I was sitting on a cot, and he walked over to examine my foot. I tried to slip off my shoe, but it hurt my ankle quite badly. Mr. Ingram finally ended up removing the laces to get it off.

"It's just a mild sprained ankle," he said after examination. "Nothing to stress over."

"How long until it heals? She's really, really behind on training already," Ben asked.

"Nothing seems broken, but you should still rest. Make sure to ice it, and stick a few pillows under it at night. I'll show you how to wrap it here, and if you take it easy, it should heal in under six weeks."

"I can't do anything for six weeks?" I almost yelled.

"It's just an estimate. Besides, you can start on mental training, which is what I hear they want to focus you on," he reassured.

"Alright, Mr. Ingram, and thanks," Nolan said.

My foot was wrapped, and I was issued crutches to help me get around. Ben and Nolan were about to escort me back to the training room when Mr. Ingram stopped us.

"I just have two questions. How was this caused in the first place?"

"Oh, I fell off of a treadmill," I replied nonchalantly.

"That's a first. Also, aren't you forgetting someone?"

Jamie walked into the room and crossed his arms. At that moment, he was the epitome of sarcasm and sass.

"Yeah, me," he stated. "Again. Remember that alarm last month?"

"Oh, crap," Ben said.

To avoid further awkwardness, I stood up on my crutches and headed for the door. Balancing crookedly, I was able to grasp and turn the handle. I started down the hall to the rec room before realizing that I had no idea which way it was.

"Guys," I prompted.

They almost immediately ran to my side and guided me through the maze of corridors. Just as we were about to open the door to our destination, a screeching sound echoed through the halls.

"Well, fudge," Jamie said. "Alright, I'll get the crutches, you guys get her."

"What's going on?" I asked, slightly panicked.

"Alarm went off. Might be a drill, might not. They never seem to tell us beforehand," Nolan said.

"It adds to the suspense," Jamie joked.

He grabbed the crutches and tucked them under his arm. At the same time, Ben swept my feet out from under me. He began running, all the while carrying me wedding-style.

I guess the lack of visible muscles had left me with the impression that these boys weren't strong. I was astonished when I saw how easily Jamie sprinted with the bulky crutches. Ben carried me as if I weighed no more than a rag doll. Nolan appeared with a box of supplies as large as his torso, keeping pace just fine.

After turning one corner, we were nearly trampled by the steady stream of men all running past us. Ben stumbled in his step once, causing me to shout in terror. He quickly regained his step, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

We made multiple twists and turns before reaching the last room on the last hallway. We filed into the room. Once the room was fit to capacity, I caught a glimpse of more people turning to the other end rooms. The door slammed shut. There was no handle on the inside.

Slowly but surely, the room began to shake. At first I thought it was just me, trembling in Ben's arms, but the room began to inch downwards. It was some sort of oversized elevator.

Ben's breathing began to normalize, recovering from the running. I decided now was as good a time as any to ask him what's going on. So I did.

"What is this?"

"It's a jumbo-sized lift, as I'm sure you've figured out. Those other rooms are the same," he replied.

He motioned over to Jamie and set me down. My crutches were handed to me, and I stood up as the lift stopped. Everyone began to file out same as they had come in.

Someone ran past me, and a few more followed. This was a bit chaotic compared to everybody else. Suddenly, I got shoved to the side. The added pressure to my crutches made them slide out from under me, and I fell.

The elevator shuddered. Scared beyond belief, I looked around for Ben or Nolan. No one was left, so I frantically scrambled across the floor. I slid the crutches out in front of me. I crawled out of the opening just before it moved too far from the ground.

Ben was standing right outside. I stood up, grabbing my crutches. His expression was one of sheer panic, but as soon as he saw me, it transformed into relief.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you down until we got out. I'll have to find those guys once I get you to your bunker. It's a well-known rule that disorder is not permitted during these drills. You could have been hurt," he rambled.

"I'm fine, I swear," I said. "No need to get them in trouble. They were probably just trying to get out."

"You could have been hurt," he repeated, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Ben, it's really okay," I said.

I was silenced by his lips pressing against mine. It was an awkward kiss, but it lasted. He had no clue what he was doing. I stood there, astounded and breathless, his kiss lingering, then stepped away.

"No," I said.

I turned and walked in the opposite direction. It was all wrong. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be kissing him. I should be in school, or at home with my family. Not in some huge complex of underground bunkers.

I bumped into a man with a clipboard of names and numbers. Quickly scanning the list, I found my name next to 72.

The set up was similar to the upper halls, rooms on both sides. Each room had a small metal strip above the doorway. The letter C and a number was engraved in each one.

After walking through the fifties and sixties, I found bunker C72. The occupants were listed on a paper outside of the door. They were a man in his mid-twenties named Trevor. He was sitting with a man thirty years his senior, who was called Davis.

Davis and Trevor were caught deep in a conversation about the base. I stood outside the door for a minute, trying to glean some meaning from it.

"Davis, listen. The fact that the main base is above-ground is a serious weakness though, a brink in the armor, if you will," Trevor was saying.

"We haven't been found yet, and we won't be found," Davis replied. "That new training must've gone to your head, Trevor. You don't always have the right answer."

I cleared my throat to make my presence known and walked into the room.

"Wren Osgood, bunker 72," I said.

"Yes, yes. Here's your bed. We'll take the bunk," Davis said. "You been out there long?"

"No, sir," I answered.

I sat down on the single bed across from the bunk. The room wasn't much different from my own, just two more trunks and one less dresser.

I mulled over the day. A sprained ankle. An alarm. A kiss. And information. The base isn't underground. I just might have a chance, if I can get a map or layout. I just might be able to escape.