I was stuck in this hospital bed, constantly guarded by numerous armed goons. 90% of the day. I was chained to my bed--especially my hands. Then the rest of the day, Pogan or anyone else from my team would visit for reports and small talk. I was given pills for my insomnia that knocked me out for a solid eight hours, so at least I was gaining sleep back. Tonight, I was given a pill, and I gulped it down. Before laying back, the goon popped some thick ear buds into my ears and turned up some heavy metal; "Ten Thousand Fists in the Air" by Disturbed. He gave me some sort of sick, twisted grin, then left me to drift off into a dreamland.
---
I jolted awake, lunging forward to sit up, but restrained by the heavy chains. I struggled, managing to pop an earbud out. Through my free ear, I heard whispers. The whispers grew louder, calling both my names. I screamed; was this some kind of bad dream!?
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!" I yelled, but the whispers were consuming me from all angles. Through the cold sweat that poured out in front of my eyes, I saw many mouths moving, grinning the evil grin of that one goon and whispering inaudible words. I thought I was gonna go mad, until I woke up.
---
I woke up the same way I did in the dream, but I was able to sit up. Only my hands were restrained by... Ropes? They probably didn't want me to get tetanus or something. The song had stopped some time during the night, and the thick ear buds were removed. Now, I was in a dark room, looking at who knows what. I laid back, now staring up at the ceiling. I didn't want to go back to sleep, in the case the dream reoccured. If someone walked in, I'd just pretend to be asleep.
---
It was 8:00 sharp when a goon came in to greet me. I pretended to be groggy, when all night, I was driven crazy by a cricket outside.
"Good morning. Sleep well?" Conversation? Since when!?
"Yes. Why?" I asked, knitting my eyebrows together.
"Because," he grinned sickly sweet, "it'll probably be the last sleep you'll ever have."
---
I was placed on my knees, outside, in front of a helicopter. I was tied with ropes, stripped down to my tank top and shorts, and forced to look at the helicopter. I was forced to watch as Ava was put in a cage, then hauled into the chopper like an animal. There was nothing I could do, nothing but plead.
"Leave Ava alone!" I spat. "I'm the leader! Take me, torture me, do whatever you want with me! Just let Ava go!!"
"Shut up!" I was struck with something heavy, and I suddenly turned into a serpent and twisted to bite the ankle of whoever hit me. I was beat off the goon's ankle, then watched as Ava was hauled into the air, higher and higher, opposite the direction of the base. I bowed my head.
There was nothing I could do.
"Now, then," one piped up. "Time for the execution."
---
Everyone I knew and loved watched as I was driven off into uncharted, infested territory. I had nothing but the clothes on my back to defend me. I watched as everyone stormed the fence, feeble in their attempts to knock it down and come save me. I was nothing now, and I knew I was done.
"Any last wishes?" one asked.
"Yes... Tell everyone in Team Alpha that they were the best damned team a girl could ask for." One recorded my statement, then nodded. I bowed my head and enjoyed my last moments in the crowded Humvee, just reflecting on everything I've done.
---
When the Humvee stopped, my heart lurched and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was brought to my feet from the kneeling position I'd been in the whole time. I was hauled up, onto the roof of the vehicle. I peeked over the edge, but saw something that made my eyebrows rise a little.
"Good bye, Ariana 'Mettox'," a voice said from behind me. I was kicked into a mass of jaundiced hands, but I was able to land feet first. The skull of a zombie crushed underfoot, then I ran. Hands grabbed for me, but I was quick with my feet free. I dodged every grab for me, almost dancing in a quite literal Tango with Death. Bits of clothing were ripped from me, and I got scraped by a set of claws, but I emerged otherwise stable. Speaking of stables...
"SABRINA!!" An old horse's head rose; these numbnuts ditched me in familiar territory. Sabrina came trotting up, and I held my binded hands up to her. "Quickly, chew through!!" She did as she was told, gnawing through the ropes with her teeth. I wriggled free the rest of the way, then hopped the higher fence. I lost my sneaker on the climb, and since it wouldn't make sense to have one without the other, I ditched the other sneaker. "Missed ya, girl. Now c'mon, let's tango with fate!!" She allowed me on, and I gripped her neck and directed her to her right. She took off at a steady canter, able to jump the fence. Both zombies and goons were after us, but Sabrina was a faithful horse; an old champion in the races. We hopped fences, jumped obstacles, and danced in the rain of bullets aimed at us. Soon, we were on the right track, back to the base.
---
We couldn't save her... I feel like it's my fault, whether a little or completely. We all were escorted back to our rooms, and being in her old room made it all the more terrible. It smelled like her in here: cherry blossoms and a vague air of chocolate. Her clothes were in a pile in the corner of the room, never to be worn again by her. Her journal was on the pillow; she requested I bring it back instead of have one of the goons find it and decipher it. I held the blue leather book in my hands, turning it and flipping the pages with care. I made out a few words, like my name and the words "Dear Journal", but everything else was mixed-up characters.
"Ari... Oh god, why?!" I threw down the book, resulting in a few pages flying free. I cried, not realizing that I had probably just partially ruined a memory of her. For now, I bowed my head, and cried, and screamed.
There was nothing I could do now.
