Collateral

Chapter Fourteen - Arsen

Arsen shouldn't have expected to make it to Queens.

Still, he had hoped--or, more precisely, he had wished. 

Hoping was overrated. 

He had wished when he was surrounded by ADAM agents pointing guns and yelling demands. And he had wished when he had stepped out of the taxi with the g*n in his hands and the driver as his "hostage". 

He wished that they wouldn't call his bluff, that they wouldn't notice his hand slightly trembling and the fear in his eyes. That they wouldn't see the weakness in every step. 

And he knew that it was Myra's fault. 

Somehow, she was connected to it. 

So he was hoping she'd pull up in some armored car, wave him down and they'd drive away. Saved. She'd proven her point, hadn't she? She wouldn't risk him dying--

His eyes searched for her and came up empty except for a crowd filming the ordeal on their phones. 

"I'll shoot him!" Arsen yelled, hoping they didn't notice the quiver in his voice. "I will." I'm getting out of here, taking Holly and my father, and we're all getting out. 

Did he even know how to aim it? He assumed not by the chuckle that escaped one agent. 

"The safety's still on. He doesn't have a clue." 

Panic rose up in his throat, choking him. He shoved the driver forward and bolted for the taxi, ducking his head at the subsequent shots that rang out. 

Someone screamed, maybe himself?

At first, it didn't hurt. It just felt hot. 

Then, it started to burn.

And he couldn't breathe--

The world started swirling underneath his feet--

Arsen looked down. 

Blood, nausea, confusion. A hole on his right side.

And there was only one that was clear through the haze of crimson.

This hurts.

Like someone was sticking a hot poker into his lung and slamming it with a sledgehammer, repeatedly. 

Arsen gasped for air. His skin was pale, sweat beading, mouth hanging slightly open as his chest heaved, unable to find oxygen. The world was cut off, the sound muffled and muted. 

Then, darkness.