I had hardly made it five feet before I felt a rough hand grab me by the arm. My other arm was similarly ensnared, and I struggled, helpless, at the mercy of the men in black.
"You cannot outrun these magnificent Sentinels," the same man who had spoken before said. "As machines, they are designed to be eons stronger and faster than the ordinary human. And certainly stronger and faster than a mutant."
"What do you want with me?" I ceased struggling, seeing that it was useless. Instead, I willed my optic beams to activate. They remained dormant despite my repeated efforts.
"Only your cooperation." He motioned for the Sentinels who had so brusquely grabbed me to begin walking me towards the car parked in front of my smoldering house. "My name is Jason Wyngarde. I work for a great man, who is in great need of mutants like you and I."
This new piece of information was unexpected. "You're a mutant too?"
"I can create illusions that seem as real as the reality you know and experience every day. Quite a handy mutation, if you ask me. And certainly an asset to my employer."
My heart pounded, as I realized the ramifications of this reveal. "My sister."
"An illusion."
"My parents."
"Also illusions."
"So, if I didn't kill them," I choked out, "where are they now?"
"Now, that really is a mystery isn't it?" Wyngarde smiled a cruel smile. He motioned for the Sentinels to put me into the car.
"No," I gasped, even as my resumed struggling brought pain as the Sentinels tried to forcefully shove me into the backseat of the car. "No."
"No, Mr. Summers? You're not really in a position to refuse, you know."
"Actually," I said through gritted teeth. "You'll find that I am."
TSEWWWWW! I felt the terrible power course through my veins as I unleashed a blast that I had been building up for the past couple of minutes. The Sentinels flew backwards, propelled by the force. They slammed into Wyngarde, forcing him to the ground, causing him to collapse under their dead weight.
"Get him!" he cried, and the Sentinels obeyed his commands almost immediately, already scrambling to their feet. It seemed like my optic blasts could only stun them momentarily. These foes were of a true caliber, and I didn't think I could muster up the strength for another beam in the precious seconds I had before they worked their way back up to full functionality.
And so I propelled my feet in the opposite direction, willing my legs to distance myself as far away from them as possible. It was no longer a fight for my own identity. It was a fight for survival.
Heavy footsteps pounded behind me. To get out of this fix, I only had to outrun a couple of 6 foot tall mutant-hunting machines. Who, did I mention, were armed with guns?
BAM! BAM!
I tried to dodge them as best as I could. And by that I meant running faster.
I knew I couldn't hope to outrun them the conventional way. Based on the sound of their footsteps, I estimated that they would catch up to me in a matter of seconds. However, I had a home advantage. This was my neighborhood, and as advanced as these Sentinels seemed to be, they hadn't lived on the battlefield, so to speak, for the past decade and a half. I only had to find some way to use my intricate knowledge of the nooks and crannies of my community to my benefit. Knowledge was nothing without action, and without action I would be a dead man.
"Let's see how high you bastards can jump," I muttered to myself as I spotted a yard with an especially high fence in front of me. Quickening my pace to gather momentum, I leaped onto the side of the fence, planting my leg squarely on one side while swinging my other leg over. In one fluid motion I catapulted myself over the top of the fence, landing hard on my feet. Seeing a gate in the corner of the yard, I jumped back up and sprinted towards it, hoping that my little gymnastic feat back there had bought me some time.
A loud crack followed by the subsequent sound of bits of planks falling onto the grass. The Sentinels hadn't even bothered with jumping at all.
But I was already out of the gate, already running down an old passageway hidden from the light of day behind vines and tree branches. These Sentinels were machines, so I doubted that they could smell – all I had to do was keep out of their vision and stay quiet.
Behind me, I heard my hunters stop abruptly. I was out of their sight - half the job was done. Now I could only hope they didn't choose to go down the path I had chosen, else they would encounter a very visible person entwined among the vines.
I held my breath, not daring to make even the slightest noise. I didn't even dare to sneak a look at the Sentinels, knowing full well that if I met their steely eyes with my own, my cover would be blown.
Breathless anticipation. Then soft thudding as the machines resumed their pursuit of me. In the wrong direction.
Even after that, I didn't move for a couple of minutes. Perhaps they hadn't really moved at all - perhaps they sought to bait me out. And these were machines after all - machines capable of playing a simple audio file that sounded like footsteps pounding away. I couldn't take any chances - what were a couple more minutes of discomfort versus my whole life? And so I waited, horribly aware of how loud my heart beat in my chest and how conspicuous every breath I took was.
When I finally felt that I had waited long enough and that not even machines could have that much patience, I disengaged myself from my makeshift camouflage. I took in big gulps of cool air, welcoming the joy of simply being alive. I looked out at the clearing and, seeing no tall men clothed in black, decided to chance a dash out into the main road.
Once out in the open, I quickly scanned the streets and the surrounding houses for any danger. Nothing. I refused to believe that I had gotten away from the Sentinels that easily. These were the creatures that had now taken a total of three of my optic blasts and escaped relatively unscathed. Still, maybe they were only physical force and no match for the wits of a human.
Even as I was debating the logistics of my escape, I made the prudent move to get out of the open, now that I had ensured as best as I could that the coast was clear. I quickly walked up to the front porch of the closest house, trying to act as non-suspicious as I could. It was difficult. Sweat was still pouring down my face, and I was breathing hard. There was also an air of anxiety and paranoia around me - if anyone saw me right now, they'd conclude that I had been running from the cops. Which wasn't too much a stretch of the truth, I suppose.
Still, it was too dangerous out here. As long as the Sentinels existed, my life would be under constant threat. So I needed to go somewhere. I needed to call somewhere.
But who? My parents. The sudden horror of the past hour washed over me. I couldn't contact my parents. Even if they weren't dead, they were obviously under the control of Wyngarde and his Sentinels. Calling them posed too much of a risk, and on the slim chance that they actually answered, what was I supposed to say to them? Ask them their location and perform a daring rescue? No - there was a time for bravado and a time for caution. So they were out.
Bobby. The only other sane person in my bizarre little world. My oldest friend. He'd be able to help me. The Sentinels didn't know about my connection to him - his house could serve as a temporary refuge. Still, dragging him into my mess would put his whole life at risk. Could I take that kind of moral weight on my conscience? No, I couldn't. So there was really only one option left.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jean's number.
