Desperate pounding on the backdoor. Stealing nervous glances behind him. Damn it, were they coming after him? Of course they were. He was their guinea pig. The real question was whether or not they were close by. It was past midnight and there would surely be agents on watch. Curfew was serious business around here.
C'mon, dammit,he thought furiously. Open the damn door!
His head hurt. And the left side of his torso was screaming with pain. The scratchy white fabric he was wearing was already caked with red in several places. His skin was littered with purplish bruises and angry red marks. He could still taste the coppery blood in his mouth. It was, he'd decided, pure hell.
Waiting was pure hell.
"Open up!" he cried in a voice he couldn't recognize as his own. Raw, hoarse. Exhaustion was clear in his ragged breaths, the way his shoulders were sagging. Never before had he felt so drained. And just moments ago he had been thrilled with such euphoria from escaping. The adrenalin pumping in his veins, his Craft pulsing throughout his very being. But he was tired now. Tired, so very tired. He would have to make a run for it soon, when the agents finally catch up.
The door opened after a long while, revealing a tired-looking Bryce standing in the doorway. His gray eyes seemed to sigh and the corners of his mouth were drooping down in agreement to his eyes. His face was unshaven and the stubble made him look even older than he was supposed to look.
"Alexei," Bryce sighed.
"Please," he pleaded. "You owe me one."
"You can't stay here."
Alexei's heart sank. Why? Why was he refusing to help? Had the Organization somehow managed to turn Bryce against him, too? No, that wasn't fair. They were cutting him off from all resource, cornering him until he would finally bend to their will. No. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't let it happen.
"Am I supposed to kill you too, now?" he growled, a horrible and twisted smile turning the corners of his mouth. "Traitor."
Bryce stepped back, hurt by the remark. It took him a few moments to regain his composure and after he did so, it was a threat that escaped his lips like bitter poison.
"Get out of here, or I'll call the agents."
Alexei threw back his head and laughed. Just what was the difference, anyway? He would still be caught, nonetheless. He shook his head as his laughter died down. Running a hand through his unkempt shoulder length hair, he met his old friend's eye.
"I understand," he said slowly. "You wouldn't want to be seen with Public Enemy Number One. All right. I won't bother you anymore."
"Heads up, mate!"
Eduard had been so distracted by the strange vision that had filled his head for a moment that he had lost track of where he was. By the time he realized that he was in the middle of a basketball game, one of the boys - his name was Nate, if Eduard wasn't mistaken - had lobbed the ball in his direction.
"Whoops!" Eduard cried as he caught it, almost letting it slip past his fingers. Fumbling for balance, he dribbled the ball across the court, ducking past the other boys. Sweat was trickling along his skin, but he still felt hot, as if he was on fire. To add to the chaotic state he was in, he had a massive headache and the strange hallucination had left much to be worried about. Just what the heck was that all about?
A momentary fugue, Ed, he told himself. That's it.
"Pass the ball!"
"I'm open!"
"Get the ball!"
Eduard ran; ball bouncing smoothly beneath his hand. He blocked out the shouts of the other boys and flung the ball into the basket. Everything moved past him in a blur. He could hear the pounding of his shoes against the ground, the excited cheer erupting among his teammates - boys he had only met mere seconds ago. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was out of breath. His head was throbbing too.
And something just didn't feel right.
"Ellie." The name slipped out involuntarily. Panting hard, he swallowed. In the next breath, he murmured, "Ellie who?"
Slowing down, he let go of the ball, letting it bounce away into the tangled mess of boys fighting for it. Cold sweat drenched his skin, chilling a thin line all the way down his spine.
Ellie who?
But you know her, another part of his mind insisted. You know her.
He fell to his knees, suddenly aware of something else happening. His skin tingled, and he wasn't sure if it was in a good way or a bad way. It felt as if someone was passing an electric current through him, and god damn him, it felt good. In a way. Funny, but good. It made him feel giddy, for some reason. It made him feel like laughing. It was like cocaine, setting his senses on fire. Lighting him up like a Christmas tree full of decorations.
"Shit," he swore through gritted teeth.
It was electric, like sticking a spark plug in his heart.
"You all right, mate?" Nate's voice, but it sounded so distant.
Electric.
"You okay?"
Even better than okay, Eduard thought.
Like Christmas, when they all lit up the lights. When they put the star at the top of the tree.
No, that wasn't it. That wasn't exactly it. Lights were bright, but that was it. This was better than light. It was ...
Explosive.
Like fireworks.
A hand closed around his shoulder, but he didn't feel it anymore. A split second later, he was bursting into flame.
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