Replication

Chapter Twelve

((hello everyone!! if you guys don't know already, I just wanted to announce that along with this book I am currently also writing a brand-new sci-fi book called 'Ascension'! it would mean so much to me if you could check this book out, i think you all will like it!! i am going to be writing both 'Replication' and 'Ascension' at the same time, so you can expect updates for both these books! hope you all enjoy this chapter!))

For a few moments, we all stare at the leaking window, transfixed in a state of both shock and horror. Although the crack is pretty small, it is still significant enough, due to the fact that a narrow jet of water is rapidly streaming into the room.

What the hell are we going to do...

I feel nauseous.

"You fucking idiot..." Ian murmurs, fury radiating in his voice.

Before Ian can run over and punch/attack/kill Hal, Hal instantly scurries out of the room, racing out into the hallway.

"COME BACK HERE YOU COWARD!" Ian roars.

But it's too late. Hal is gone.

Ian stops in the doorway, panting heavily. I can see his body literally quaking with rage. He then slowly turns around, facing me, a grim look on his face.

"We're going to die," he murmurs.

I swallow hard and look down at the floor, trembling with fear. The only sounds are the low hum of the submarine and the splashing of the water as it continues to stream through the crack. I wish there was something I could say, something to comfort him. But there's not. 

We both stand there for a few moments, our hearts pounding in our chests. I finally look up from the ground and lock my eyes with his. His dark eyes penetrate into mine, and in those few moments, time seems to slow down.

I wonder what he is thinking. Is he thinking about the water streaming into the submarine? Or is he thinking about the video that he just saw of Tristan and I...

I really hope he isn't thinking about the second option.

When I am unable to bear his penetrating gaze any longer, I suddenly say,

"There's got to be a way to stop the water from coming in."

Ian continues to stare at me silently, then shakes his head slowly.

"No," is all that he mutters.

"No. There has to be a way. We have to try to stop it," I say, my voice trembling.

Ian shakes his head again, and I am filled with an unexpected wave of anger.

"So you just want to sit here, do nothing and wait to die without even trying to fix the problem?!" I exclaim incredulously, throwing my arms up in the air.

Nonetheless, as if a stone statue, he continues to stare at me with that stolid, emotionless expression painted on his face.

"Fine, you do whatever you want. But I'm going to try to get us out of this," I say, then begin to walk toward the door.

There is only person I can think of that may be of some help in this situation. And his name is Tristan.

Just as I am about to step out the doorway I feel a hand roughly grab me by my shoulder. I whirl around, looking Ian right in the face. 

"What do you want?" I ask warily. 

He still hasn't loosened his iron-like grip. I wince in pain as his fingers dig into my shoulder.