Last Line Blogfest – 30 Days
First of all, many thanks to Lilah Pierce for hosting the Last Line Blogfest! Go check out the other great entries!
Secondly, Friday May 7 is the Bad Girl Blogfest hosted by yours truly. Both characters from this entry will be back in reworked scenes showing their true badness.
The Reports of My Death...
[Posted November 30, 2008 @ 11:59 PM]
have been greatly exaggerated.
For a moment, maybe just a moment, I lost consciousness. Alex reached me as I lay flat on the stage. I remember him next to me, talking to me, and then he was gone. My vision swam, and my face, chest, and legs felt like I had been hit by a train. I groaned and rolled over on one elbow.
“Holy shit, you’re alive,” shouted Carrie from her cage, like a ghost had just sprung out my body.
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled. I felt around the bullet holes. Both were clean, passing right through my body. That meant they only hit soft tissue, nothing that couldn’t be fixed, as long as I got treatment in time.
I looked at the pool of blood beneath me, trying to judge how much I had lost. Enough to make my heart race trying to keep up with my dwindling blood supply.
“I can help you,” said Carrie. “I have people. You don’t have to die here.”
I shook my head. “This is as good a place to die as any other.” Blackness crept along the periphery of my vision. My feet felt cold and leaden.
“Listen,” Carrie insisted, an urgency in her voice. “We’re up against something huge. Bigger than what I can handle. I’ve been trying to get inside. Maybe—together—we can do it. This is something bigger than the Singularity Matrix. People are involved at all levels. At all levels. Elena, listen. I can get you inside. If you get me out of here, we can crack this thing together.”
I sighed, my vision swimming. “More of your conspiracy theories? Park, you’ve played that one too many times.” I laid down and stared up at the chandeliers on the ceiling.
“This ship, who do you think built this ship? It wasn’t me! It wasn’t the Chinese! They have more of them, and not just converted freighters. Not just seagoing vessels. They’re building an army of these things. This was just a test, don’t you see? They didn’t care if I lived or died. Why do you think I got stuck with such an incompetent crew? Why do you think they supplied me with the twin singularity? So I could destroy this thing when it was all over, and hide all the evidence. Ellie, these people are moving quickly, and we can’t hesitate. By now Alex has armed the Matrix, and we’ve got ten, fifteen minutes tops.”
The conversation stumbled through my neurons, but certain things didn’t quite add up. I struggled to sit up. “If you’re lying, your next torture session will be far beyond anything I’ve done before.”
The scrawny bitch rattled her bars. “Okay, fine, just get me out of here. Ellie, you’re my only hope to get out of this mess. I’m serious about what I told Alex: I want to change. Just give me a chance, please.”
Right. Everything out of her mouth is shit. But I needed answers. Maybe it was 100% fiction. I had to know. None of this makes sense. I dragged myself along the stage, and slapped the button to raise the cage. Carrie limped out, and picked up my gun.
She aimed it at me, and I closed my eyes. “Let’s go, Galistina,” she said, shoving the gun into her waistband, then reached to help me up.
We supported each other over to a door which led to a room which held a large powerboat. We flopped into the boat, my guts screaming with pain, and Carrie flipped some switches. A door burst open, propelled by explosive bolts. The boat roared to life and catapulted out on to the river. Above us, a helicopter leaped off the deck and flew off to the northwest—Alex and his friends. We raced east down the river, and in a few minutes, the sky lit up with the terrifying detonation. Fortunately, we had covered enough distance to avoid the radiation and heat blast.
I’m now resting comfortably, essentially a prisoner of Carrie’s, but not completely. More of a detained guest. She’s filling in some details, and so far it checks out.
I’m going to have to go far undercover now. Forget Elena Galistina. She doesn’t exist anymore. My facial reconstruction will change my look. I’ll look a little more Southern European, if I can.
I’ve sent the bulk of my estate over to Alex as an “inheritance.” My official estate will probably be held in court for years, but my private untraceable assets will become immediately available to him. I’ve also set up a trust for Julia, which she’ll find out about in due time. I owe that kid my life.
Well it’s been fun. I hope Carrie’s “change” is real. We’re more alike sometimes than I like to admit. Stay safe, and I hope we can talk again sometime.
Peace,
Elena Galistina (soon to be…?)
Well, I guess I can’t really let anything end, can I? I hope you enjoyed it!
