Michelle Maddox - Countdown

I trusted him. I did. More than anybody in the world.

We turned back to the passageway just as we heard the door leading to the street slam shut and heavy footsteps begin to approach.

"Somebody's coming." Rogan pulled his gun out of his waistband.

I reached for my own gun.

Just then I heard a popping sound, and something in the back of my head began to tick.

A metallic voice spoke up: "Unable to detect implant signal. Please return to the proper signal range. Not complying will result in implant self-destruction in ten minutes. Countdown begins now."

I looked at Rogan with wide eyes. There was a gleam of sweat on his brow. He raised an eyebrow. "Just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"What do we do now?"

"Get your gun out and aim. Let's deal with one thing at a time."

I ignored the ticking in my brain and fumbled at my gun. I was out of bullets, but whatever was coming didn't know that. I gripped the weapon in both hands and pointed it at the half darkness of the hallway. Shit. I hoped Rogan still had ammo. The footsteps increased in speed and volume until finally somebody appeared in front of us. He was also holding a gun.

Jonathan. He was dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt but wasn't wearing his white coat at the moment. His forehead was shiny with sweat.

"Drop your weapons!" he commanded.

"You first," Rogan snarled.

"Rogan, you need to do as I say and drop your weapon."

"Not exactly taking orders from you right now, asshole. I will pull this trigger and waste you."

Jonathan's gun shifted in my direction. "You shoot me and I'll shoot her."

Rogan's breathing increased. "Don't even think about it."

"Jonathan," I said. "How did you know we were here?"

He was sweating. "Are you going to listen to reason, Kira? Or are you going to be stubborn like Rogan?"

"Well, since you just threatened to shoot me, I'm not so sure what I'm going to do."

I studied him for a moment, holding my useless gun so tightly that it began to cut into my skin. I remembered when I used my flex on him. He gave the distinct impression of being honest and truthful, but there was a ton of guilt mixed in. Despite all the lies I knew he'd told, my gut was still insisting that he wasn't one of the bad guys.

"What are you guilty of, Jonathan?" I asked. "Answer me that right now."

My question surprised him, I could see it in his expression, but he didn't lower his gun. "Guilty? I'm guilty of a lot of things. I don't even know where to begin."

"But you feel bad about what you've done."

His expression darkened. I noticed that his gun was trembling slightly. "I feel bad. That's why I'm here. That's why you need to hear me out. There's no time. You have to trust me."

I stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped my gun and held my hands out before me.

"Kira, what the hell are you doing?" Rogan growled.

'Trusting my instincts."

"Your instincts are going to get you killed."

Jonathan's gun was still trained on me, and I eyed it warily. I felt a line of perspiration slide down my spine.

"Consider that a show of faith," I told him. "Now talk."

"Your implants have probably started their self-destruct countdown, haven't they?" he asked. When neither of us confirmed it, despite the constant ticking I was dealing with and the recent notice that there were eight minutes left, he continued. "I was notified the moment you escaped the game and moved out of network range." A smile twitched on his lips. "Well played, by the way. Well played."

"No thanks to you," Rogan said, every word coated in venom.

Jonathan licked his lips nervously. "I've done what I can. I healed you, Rogan. I healed Kira's leg after the shooting. I prevented the other men from abusing Kira just before the reward level." He raised an eyebrow at me. "They aren't terribly fond of you anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Sarcasm dripped from my voice.

"So they know you've escaped. They know you must still be in the city."

Rogan glared at him. "And let me guess. You've notified them that we're here. Isn't that convenient."

Jonathan shook his head. "No. They don't know. I'm the only one who knows you're here."

'Then I strongly suggest that you drop your weapon," Rogan said again. "Right now."

"I want to help you, Rogan, but I'm also quite concerned for my own well-being. Can you understand that?"

"More than you know. I was fairly concerned with my own well-being the four years I was in prison."

Jonathan winced. "Some things were unfortunately unavoidable."

"Yeah, unfortunate. That's a word. Now lower your weapon away from Kira, or I swear to God I'm going to fill you with enough holes that you'll be able to see out of your own ass."

I almost laughed at that. Obviously I was just short of hysterical.

"I don't think Jonathan wants to hurt us." I reached out to touch Rogan's arm.

He flinched and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why, because of your instincts?"

"Yeah."

"Not good enough."

"Fine." Jonathan let out a loud sigh of exasperation. "There's simply no time for this." He bent over and placed his gun on the ground. Rogan stormed toward him and grabbed his arm, swinging him around to push him up against the wall next to the door. He pressed his gun against Jonathan's head.

"Now tell me why you're here."

"I'm here"-Jonathan's words were partially muffled by the fact that his face was squashed against the wall- "because you pressed the buzzer."

"Which means what?" Rogan snapped.

"The buzzer is connected to a device I wear at all times. It informs me if someone has found the safe house your brother had me set up three years ago."

Rogan grabbed Jonathan's shirt and swung him back around roughly. "Explain more."

"Your brother is not himself. There was an accident."

"I know."

"You know?" Jonathan's eyes widened. "You know about the virus in the artificial intelligence program that took over his implant?"

"Old news."

"How long have you known this?"

"About ten minutes. But I'm ready for something that will actually help us right now."

Jonathan's chest heaved. "Then you may not know that there were times in the beginning when the real Gareth was able to come forth and give instructions without the virus knowing. He attempted to stop what was happening. In the end he lost the battle for control of his body, but he was able to do some small things, such as set up this safe house for worthy contestants who wanted to escape. You are the first to have made it this far."

"Six minutes until implant self-destructs," the tinny, metallic voice in my head announced.

Rogan looked at me, and I could see the strain in his face.

"We need these implants out," he said.

Jonathan sighed. "Yes, you need them out or you're going to die. Now take your damn hands off of me and come inside so I can get to work."

Rogan still had his gun held up defensively as Jonathan unlocked the door and touched the light pad inside before hurrying into the small house.

"Come with me immediately," Jonathan said before he disappeared into another room through a narrow archway.

"Five minutes remain until implant self-destructs."

With that announcement I began to feel a small burning sensation at the back of my head, and I was again reminded of what was left of Mac's body on the roof after his implant exploded. I shuddered at the memory and followed Jonathan into the next room, a kitchen with a stove, refrigerator, and long wooden table.

"Sit there." He nodded at a single chair to the side of the table.

I didn't argue and did what he said, easing myself onto the hard, unyielding wooden chair.