Someone's In My Head (WATTYS AWARD WINNER 2015)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Okay, I admit it. It wasn't actually that suspenseful.

Yeah, yeah, there might be two guns pointed right at me, and the guys wielding those guns might look like they just got off a Michelin commercial, but what's the problem? Phil and I had suffered worse. Take the three Agent Smiths for an instance.

Phil didn't disappoint me. Once he caught sight of those shiny silver barrels, he dove to the ground instantly and took cover behind the unconscious Mr Baboon #1's mountainous body. Which was probably a good thing, 'cause multiple bullets started peppering the air where I stood a few milliseconds ago.

"Don't they have a no-kill order?" I yelled, wincing as the bullets buried themselves ruthlessly into Mr Baboon #1's body. It sounded like the bullets-hitting-sandbags noise I heard when I was inside Phil's Kandahar flashback. But this was flesh and bone―an entirely different story.

"I don't think they really give a fuck about that right now," Phil shouted back. Another bullet came so dangerously close to my feet that it actually took a piece of my trainers with it as it screamed past.

Yeah. I totally get it. Their first reaction when they see a prisoner standing over their fallen mate is to go into a shooting frenzy.

Good God. Are these guys emotionless robots or what? I might understand their poker faces, but shooting at a friendly without even knowing if he's dead or alive? Even I don't do that in video games.

"Darn." I cursed. "If I knew you were planning on staying behind this mountain all day―"

As a reply, Phil plucked the gun out from the (probably dead) guard's hip. Then, sensing a brief respite in the assault of bullets, Phil crawled onto the huge lump that saved our lives and took aim.

"Do NOT―" He began.

BAM! "―steal―"

BAM! "―my lines."

The two Mr Baboons didn't stand a chance. The two bullets caught them right in the middle of their chests. With a muffled 'oof', they dropped like rocks.

"Great," I muttered as Phil stood up, with his newly-acquired gun still trained on the doorway. "You might as well have just alerted the whole CIA about our daring escape."

Phil glided over to the door stealthily. "Relax. These doors are soundproof, remember? Plus, last time I checked, there ain't no hidden cameras in here."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, if they're that easy to find, they won't be called hidden cameras, for crying out loud."

"Guess we'll find out soon enough." Phil stepped over the unconscious (or dead?) Mr Baboons and into the hallway.

The hallway was surprisingly quiet. I pricked my ears to catch the faintest echoes of alarms, footsteps or frantic shouts of profanities―any hint that might suggest that our escape is blown―but I heard nothing. All I heard was this eerie silence and calm that seemed to stretch on forever throughout this vast underground building.

"Told ya." Phil's tone was smug.

I ripped the Jarod Vessel joystick back from Phil. "Call me a paranoid sissy, but I still have a hunch that something bad is gonna happen in about two seconds."

"Jarod, you're going in the wrong direction." Lenny reminded. "The Oculus is on your right, remember?"

I spun around so fast that I nearly crashed into the grey wall beside me.

Phil smirked. "That the 'something bad' you're talking about?"

"Shut up."

I fished out my phone from my pocket. Judging by how much death-defying shit I'd been through in the last 48 hours, it was really amazing how my loyal little IPhone stayed with me throughout the entire journey.