The God Codex

7. Scar-tissue

BOOK OF MIA: 2081

Chapter 7: Scar-tissue

I gasp for air and water rushes into my mouth. It slithers into my lungs, sheering every corner, every cell, every pocket with pain, but I can't help myself. I try for another breath. Perhaps this one will have air.

I struggle to open my eyes, to flail my useless arms. To pull myself upwards, towards the surface. The surface that retrieves fast from my reach. My mind and body are no longer my slaves. All I can do is wait for the water to stop churning around me. Hopefully soon?

The dawn that was breaking through right before I jumped fades as I'm pushed deeper. That, or I'm passing out. I hope it's the latter. I'm a strong swimmer — always have been — but not right now, I suppose. Not with the newly acquired hole in my chest, courtesy of the firing squad above the water's surface.

The occasional bullets spray past me. Tiny little torpedoes I might have thought 'cute' if they weren't desperately trying to end my life. I stare at the trail of red around me, swirling in the white water. I don't know how deep I am, or how far the river has swept me. The only thing I can think of is, this is not how I imagined I'd go. Perhaps a cranky old lady or a middle-aged woman succumbing to radiation, but not like this, swallowing water and bleeding like a sieve.

For a moment, I wish I could go back to the last time I walked out of the house with a grin on my face and my mother begging me to give her a moment. 'There's something I need to tell you, Mia, before you go to this camp,' she had said with desperation. Desperation I had treasured, goading her with 'I don't have time, mum. My ride's here.'

I'd been in a rush to catch up with Nate. I hadn't seen him all break. His older brother lived halfway around the country and always sent for him during the holidays, which meant we couldn't hang out. As Nate's my friend, let's just say, my holiday was lonely. That and I was desperate to go out and enjoy a pre-birthday celebration. I was turning sixteen soon and having to spend it at a stupid camp. This camp. I turned sixteen at eleven-thirty last night. Yay, happy fucking birthday to me!

I gag on the water and embrace the darkness sweeping over me. My mind finally succumbs to the suffocation and the blood loss. Not the way I imagined I'd go, wondering what mum might have wanted to say to me. It had sounded important, an epiphany only hindsight can give one, I suppose.

I close my eyes and imagine I'm floating in the air as the thunder of the fall mutes and dulls, just like my other senses.

A faint tug on my arm makes me take a peek. A hand grips one of my wrists and pulls me to the surface. To air. To life. Yet, there is a numbness to the whole thing, like a dream. I close my eyes again. Too tired to fight against it. Probably a Sentry's here to finish his job.

Why weren't there any female Sentries? Maybe she would be kinder when she puts a bullet in my newly sixteen head.

I feel the hard earth beneath me as I'm dragged out of the water, through the muddy shores, and onto a grassy area. A warmth of sorts touches my lips occasionally. My chest presses rhythmically. Someone's even counting under their breath. One, two, three... performing CPR. So this is what it feels like to be saved. Soar, numb, and a little tired. Just let me be. Please. No more.

Wait. Am I being saved?

Muffled voices whisper around me. "Stop. Sentries, two o'clock over the fall."

I feel myself being tugged a little more, then something heavy washes over me. I can't tell what, but it's a little warmer than the water they fished me out of, so I don't mind it. The icy water had numbed the pain in my chest. Pain I am aware of now. The bullet hole, I realise. I still have a bullet hole in my chest. Ha! So much for being saved.