Chapter 1 & 2

    Chapter 1

Drowning. That was my first memory; I remember my eyes shooting open. I was suspended in a murky green liquid. My eyes stared at the glass in front of me. Then I realised that my lungs were burning, the hot sensation spread through my chest. Panic set in and I thrashed around realising that I had tubes connected to my back and that they were holding me down.

My arms flew forward and the glass shattered, littering the tiled floor. The tubes detached and I fell to the ground in a heap. I coughed as cool air rushed into my nostrils. My lungs burned as the air forced itself down my trachea. Everything felt foreign, like I was experiencing sight, smell, touch for the first time. I got up slowly, my legs buckling a few times. I stared at the white walls of the small square room trying to remember my name. Suddenly, realisation hit; I had no idea who I was or where I was. I was wearing a pair of white boxers, nothing else.

I whirled around, facing the large glass cylinder that was formerly holding me. I glanced at the panel beside the cylinder. 'Lazarus Project subject 1' it read in large black figures.

Something cold dangled from my neck. I looked down and realised that two dog tags were hanging on my pale chest. I knew that they were dog tags, what I didn't know was how I knew they were dog tags. It was all pretty confusing. The first one had "LP-01" stamped on it and the second one had the name Travis stamped on it. I guessed that was my name.

The room had a metal sliding door opposite the cylinder. Beside it was another panel with keys. I walked towards the door, ignoring the pieces of glass on the floor. The panel looked old and worn out.  I grabbed it and yanked it out of the wall. The door screeched open, like it hadn't been used in years. I stepped into the corridor at the other end of the door. The floors were tiled, like the room, the corridor led off to the right, the left led to a wall with a large window. The wall opposite the door was reflective.

I stared at it, seeing myself for the first time. My hair was short and black and I was thin, built like an athlete. My skin was pale, like I'd been dead. Pale grey eyes stared back at me. I was still taking it in when the sound of someone's voice hit my still sensitive ears.

"Freeze, get on the floor now!" The voice was male and was coming from the right. I turned and found a uniformed man holding a rifle. His face was obscured by his gear. I just stared at him in confusion.

"Get down!" He yelled again. I involuntarily took a step back; wrong move. The man sent a volley of shot's at me, only three of them found their mark burying themselves deep in my chest.

I just stood there, wondering what was going on. I had felt the force of the bullets and I could feel a warm sensation spreading through my chest. But aside from that, I felt completely unphased. The man stared at my chest, I could see his eyes widen. I looked at the mirrored wall, shocked at what I saw. Where the bullets had hit me, the holes glowed bright orange. The holes closed up after a few seconds. The man stood motionless; from his eyes I could tell that he was stunned. The elevator at the end of the corridor slid open and more uniformed men filed out.

When I saw the men something snapped inside my head. I ran to the window and jumped, crashing through the window. The move was a pure act of instinct, I had no idea how high the window was not from the ground nor did I know what I was falling into.

I landed on the soil with a heavy thud; around me I could see search lights scanning the area. It was dark; I could barely see my hand in front of my face. Alarms were blaring from the tall grey building that o had emerged from. I took off for the fence, scaling it surprisingly with ease. By the time the guards got to the gate I had already disappeared into the corn fields.

                         Chapter 2

That was year and a half ago. Since then I had been running from an unknown organisation and from what I'd seen, they would stop at nothing to catch me.

I had pretty much gotten used to life on the run, never staying in one place for more than a few weeks, always watching my back for agents. And then there were the things I could do. It didn't take long for me to find out that they had been experimenting on me. While fleeing from the facility I had been hit by a speeding car and still I felt no pain, only the warm sensation. My torso had glowed orange for a few minutes, giving me a chance to view my bones. I had later learned that the glow meant that my body was repairing itself. I also discovered that heat my body to temperatures close to 3000 degrees which was handy for melting locks and boiling agents.

I was presently sitting in my makeshift living room, kitchen and bedroom. I had been staying in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of a small town in West Virginia. I had worked at a local convenience store until a week ago when I was discovered although I’d spotted the agent before he caught wind of me. They were probably on their way that very moment to attempt to capture me.

I strapped two cylinders to my back and ran a tube up my left and right arm to meet two small cylinders containing oxygen. I had learned that I had a knack for mechanics. And I wasn't too bad at chemistry either.

The fist cylinder was filled with cold water and the second with calcium carbide. I had connected the two cylinders and separated the contents temporarily. Anyone with a simple knowledge of organic chemistry would know that the reaction would produce ethyne gas which when ignited with pure oxygen would produce a very effective flame. I had evacuated my few belongings into the trunk of my car.

The room and outside were littered with open cooking gas cylinders, the smell of the flammable gas permeated the air. I glanced around the large room. To the left was a small stove and sink that was my kitchen, a bed and nightstand made up my bedroom at the back. I was sitting at my workbench just behind the couch and coffee table that made up my living room. I heard the heavy cars ploughing their way up the dirt path that lead up to the warehouse. Enhanced senses came in handy for things like that. I put the finishing touches on the makeshift flamethrower. I could hear the feet of the agents pounding the ground outside the warehouse. They were surrounding me. I removed the aperture separating the two cylinders, allowing the contents to mix. The cylinder heated as the mixture bubbled, the gas rose in the tube. I opened the oxygen valves.

I clenched my fists and they began to heat up, quickly becoming red hot. I could feel the gas passing over my palm. On ignition my vision was obscured by the blinding light, I heard the screams of the agents. My hands were blown off in the process leaving only red hot stumps. I made my way through the flaming remains of the warehouse; my hands were already beginning to regenerate. The warehouse and surrounding areas had been consumed by the flames, I walked though what was formerly my back entrance and made my way into the woods to where I had parked my car, no doubt there would be more agents on my tail. The sooner I left the better. I quickly shed the smouldering rags that were formerly my clothes and put on flame retardant pants and a white tee. I had parked the black Chevy impala under a large oak tree a few miles from the warehouse.

It was stocked with my few belongings. Clothes, tools and a few makeshift weapons. I made my way through the dirt path that led to the highway contemplating where I would go next. I could always head south, it was harvest season and the farmers would be in need of labourers. I could hide out there for a while.

I was snapped out of my train of thought when something slammed into my car from behind. Through the rear view mirror I spotted three black SUV's.

I cursed and floored it, tearing through the tarmac. I had put some distance between them, but they were still on my tail. My foot was glued to the accelerator. The car coughed and bucked underneath me, she wasn't used to that kind of rough handling.

The sound of a gunshot ripped through the night air. They were firing at me. I reached into the back seat and pulled out a small tennis ball sized sphere. It was one of my many creations; life on the run could get pretty boring. I flung it out the window.

It exploded on contact with the ground releasing a fair amount of hot oil onto the road. The first car fell victim to the oil, skidding out of control and disappearing into the gaping maw of the forest.

The other cars were closing in, ideas flashed around in my mind. What was I going to do? How was I going to escape? I had used my last oil ball.

I reached to the back seat when the car suddenly spun out of control. My tire had been hit. The car swerved to the right, plunging into the forest. The car shook as it barrelled through the trees on the barren earth, I managed to dodge most of the trees but unfortunately my efforts weren't good enough. The car slammed into a tree, the airbag exploded out and I was knocked against the window. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the airbag enveloping me.

Reviews

[Will Neill]

Micheal, I have read your chapters with great interest, I feel this is a story that has been covered quite a bit in recent movies and early 2000 novels. Your style of writing is trying to make the action fast paced. That I can understand, however it comes across as just a bit rushed. Your eagerness to get into the story is ok but it should be controled. Develop the character more at the begining if you intend this to be a book. In short stories you can write a little less about the protagonist and use short discriptions because that is the nature of the short story. Slow this one down and read it over again to see were you can expand things. These are just my opinions you may see it differently, it is your work and only you can decide how it is done.
Take care
Will
Take Care