The Jacksons (completed): Book 2 - Percy Jackson Fanfiction

~ Chapter Thirty-Three: ESME

Chapter Thirty-Three:

ESME

We left Drake bleeding and cursing in the hallway; he was too heavy to move and we had nothing to shut him up. I felt bad, but I knew he deserved it. I knew Nero needed to shoot him, to cause him pain, like Drake had done to Nero.

Nero marched ahead, the gun in his pocket thank god. But I felt queasy.

"Hand it over," I said shakily.

He stopped, but didn't turn to face me. "What?"

I lunged for his pocket and took it out. He barely flinched.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and started off again.

The gun felt cold and powerful beneath my hand. It didn't fit within my grasp just right. I went to hide it and then realised I couldn't.

"We need a change of clothes," I told Nero. "We're too recognisable."

"We don't have time," Nero argued.

"We have to have time," I countered. "If we want to get even slightly close to Adam, then we can't look like us. There's a laundry room. It won't take long to get there. It's not far -"

An alarm blared, cutting me off. A voice boomed over an intercom, "Offenders Esme and Nerovian Jackson have broken free of their cells and are believed to be armed. They have already seriously injured a member of staff. If you see them, alert the nearest soldier immediately. Families must be locked in their rooms."

"Families?" Nero shouted over the noise.

"They've got a whole village here," I replied loudly. "This is the facility where all the operations and technical Borne stuff are done. All the families - husbands, wives, children, partners - who are related to workers or soldiers are given accommodation. They know very little about the work done here, but they're told to believe we're dangerous reckless young offenders."

I'm not sure how much Nero exactly heard, but I think he got the gist of it.

We entered the laundry room, which wasn't guarded (who would guard a room full of people's dirty linen?). We soon found things that fit us.

I laughed as Nero stared in horror at his new clothes. "You look like a cheesy cruise singer," I giggled. He was decked in a scarlet shirt and black trousers and a white jacket. "You can't wear that!"

"It was in my size," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"I'm sure you can squeeze." I picked him out a much more suitable grey t-shirt with a blue slogan on it and a long pair of faded jeans that covered his shoes. "Roll them up or you'll trip," I told him. I chucked him a sensible cleanish pair of black trainers.

"Yes, Mother."

I changed behind a stack of boxes into a small purple long-sleeved top and black leggings. I found some white sneakers and a navy hoodie. Then I scraped my long curly hair into a loose ponytail.

"Ready," I said, emerging from behind. Nero nodded at me.

"Ready to stop an execution," he grumbled. "Never thought we'd be doing that."

"Me either," I said with a nervous laugh. "Let's go."

The execution was most likely to be private now that everybody had been sent back to their homes, so we started by searching all the big rooms. There'd be plenty of soldiers and officials there, so they'd need somewhere spacious. The largest rooms in the facility, the canteen and assembly hall, were empty.