AN: #31 in The Great One-Shot Expulsion. And also one of my personal favorites. Based off of the movie Crank. Four chapters, short as they may be. Enjoy!
His Eyes Said It All:
Run. Keep running. You need the adrenalin. You stop, you die. You stop, you die. Keep repeating. It's your mantra. What the fuck is this shit? Someone must really hate you.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
Can't go there. People know you there. They'll know something's wrong. But you need it. Epinephrine. It will get your heart pumping, keep the blood flowing. Keep you alive.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
You run past familiar faces. They're confused. They call after you. But you can't stop. You stop, you die. A puddle. You slip but don't fall, and the Janitor shoots you a dirty look. But you don't have time to play with him today.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
The supply closet. It will be in there. You screech to a halt and nearly yank the door off its hinges. You try to remember where it is. You can't. All you can hear is blood pounding in your ears.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
Syringes drop to the ground, cracking and shattering in their plastic coverings. You search frantically, fingers sifting and pulling basket after basket from the shelves, dropping them when you discover they hold nothing you need.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
You're getting tired. Your hands are trembling. No! You can't stop! You can't die! A hand on your shoulder. You jump and press yourself back into the shelves. Syringes rain down on your head, and you grasp one before it hits the ground. It's the one you need. You almost sob in relief.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
"Newbie, what the hell are-" You cry out as you jam the needle into your chest, and tears blur your vision. But the instant rush you feel as you press in the plunger is more than worth it. "Jesus," you hear someone mutter, and you look up. Perry's there, looking more worried than you've ever seen him. You want to talk to him, quash his fears, but your mantra returns, humming in your head.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
A whimper escapes your throat, and you scramble, grabbing as many syringes as your hands will hold. He grabs your wrists, tries to tell you something, but the blood is back in your ears, and all you can hear is tidal wave after tidal wave crashing against the inside of your skull.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
You shove him aside and stumble out into the hall, pushing your way through the crowd that has gathered. Finally, clear hallway. But the Janitor's at the end, and you hear Perry gruffly bellow to stop you. The mop in the Janitor's hands is raised, and he wields it like a weapon, ready to keep you at bay.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
The stoic look on his face falters as he realizes you aren't going to stop, and he braces himself. Then a blessed, familiar voice breaks through the haze. "No! Let him go! Let him go!" Dan! Oh, Dan! You'd hug him if you didn't have to keep running.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
The Janitor looks disappointed, stepping aside just as you reach him. He must notice the distressed look on your face because he looks, suddenly, a little worried. You glance over your shoulder before you turn the corner. Dan and Perry are staring after you. There's a video tape clutched in your brother's shaking hands. Thank God! Someone knows what's happening.
You stop, you die.
You stop, you die.
As you reach the front doors of the hospital, a surge of relief comes over you. Dan knows what's going on. He'll fix it. He's always fixed things. You'll be fine. They'll figure this out, and you won't have to worry anymore. You run out of the building, dodging patients and medical staff. Your muscles are already screaming, but you keep pushing. You keep going. Because if you stop . . .
"You die," you breathe, nearly out of sight of the hospital.