Four Minutes To Live
Sleep happens now.
Four minutes and counting. That’s what they said.
I’m scared…less scared than I expected, but still frightened enough that I’m unable to quell the nervous sweat that’s creeping to my skin. Nor am I able to take control over my breathing which has become more and more erratic as the seconds pass.
Four minutes and counting. Four minutes to live.
I can hear them all abandoning the room; the heavy thumps of their boots as they clomp down the hallways. I can even hear the them shouting to each other, panicked shouts—they’re just as terrified as I am.
But somehow I’m not as terrified as I should be. In mere minutes I’ll be dead…in mere minutes this entire facility will be nothing but ruins, and here I am. Bound to a chair and locked in a room. There’s no lights, no heat, no nothing….yet somehow I’m not afraid.
I suppose it could just be shock. You know, you never expect something like this to happen to you. Certainly it could happen to other people, but never you.
Perhaps the brain simply isn’t able to rationally deal with it, and so it retreats into a sense of numbness—leaving me logically aware that I should feel petrified, but unable to feel anything.
Heh, listen to me. I’m dissecting my own imminent death, it sounds crazy.
The hallways outside are silent now. I can’t hear any more footfalls coming from them, and the cacophonous shouting has ceased as well. I’m alone now.
The fear has almost left now…but I’m not numb anymore, some vague sense of emotion is trickling into my body. Anger, that’s it. I’m angry about being trapped here in this room, angry at the darkness that pervades this room, and the sense of fury I have at the men who’ve left my here to die? Well, there are no words to describe it.
Still, somewhere in the back of my mind my imagination is running wild.
“What’s going to happen to me?” It asks, running through a variety of scenarios rapidly, attempting to determine which one will be the one that gets me.
It could be a bomb, I suppose. One planted in the facility—that’d make sense. Perhaps it’s even in the room around me. A localized blast would be the most effective thing for eradicating me. Then again these men are soldiers…they could have called in an air strike—that’d explain them scrambling to escape the facility as quickly as possible.
Of course it could also be a poisonous gas, but if that was the case then I’d imagine that they’d have put me next to a vent—just to ensure I actually perished.
I don’t even know how much time I have left anymore. And what am I spending my last precious few minutes doing? Trying to figure out how they’re going to end! I’d laugh if I could, as it is all I can do is feel the building rage within me. How dare they do this to me!
I hear some sort of hiss in the room, vaguely serpentine in nature—please tell me they didn’t put some sort of live snake in here—something that’ll slink and lurk all about by body before finally piercing me with its fangs….I shudder just thinking about it.
I can vaguely make out some sort of nozzle emerging from the wall. Somehow I’m able to see clearer now, the previously impenetrable darkness giving way to a dim foggy sort of light.
The nozzle must be some sort of poison distributor. I imagine that any time now I’ll be inhaling the toxins and then it’ll be a short period of pain and a long period of dead.
Wait, the anger is back now. They tied me up….they kidnapped me and threw me in here and tied me up!
There’s a snap, a resounding crack; I can feel that the ropes holding me have snapped, from there it’s a simple enough process to take the chair I was previously sitting in and demolish the door.
Light floods into the previously dark room, causing me to wince and cover my eyes, but I need to press onwards. I take a heavy step, my anger fueling me as I stomp down the hallway, I need to get out of here.
I hear voices, soldiers are all around me. They’re yelling in some foreign tongue that I don’t understand. They raise their guns, aim, and fire.
As soon as I saw the guns raise I knew there was no way to dodge, no way to do anything but sit there and be ventilated by the many bullets that will undoubtedly be coming my way.
But wait. The soldiers are looking confused…fearful? I’m waiting for them to fire but they seem reluctant to…but if they didn’t fire then where is all that acrid smoke coming from?
I look downwards, the floor is littered with bullets—and while my shirt has been quite ventilated, I somehow remain unharmed. I hear one of the soldiers scream out, I can’t understand anything he says except
So, I was an experiment to them, was I? I smile, it seems that their experiment failed…but I can live with being invulnerable.
Now, how long was it they gave me to live? Four minutes?
You know what they say, turnabout is fair play.