The Alpha
By Adam Morgan
Up On The Roof Angel was now running up the stairs, much faster, more flowing than his counterpart, his wisdom and age showing in his steps. He pounded forward, his hand hovering over the banister, as a backup only. His hair swung madly in front of his face, bouncing in front of his eyes. He took a brief look up and was met by an open door and a burst of fresh air. His head was pounding, the effect of looking at the screen for so long. He pushed himself through the door and stepped down onto the roof. The ground was made of small stones, shielding the thick, concrete that lay below. He looked ahead, past the shacks, past the rotting masts and into his saviour, the phone. The small booth sticking out of the ground up ahead. He ran towards it, concrete outlets flying past him, his vision bouncing with him. But as he drew closer he saw the phone, a metre away from the dial, the chord revealing the rainbow of wires. He looked ahead, he could see very faint foot steps marked out in the rocks, he looked behind, his were much heavier and distinct. He stepped over, past the phone, towards where the foot prints stopped. At least he could tell Crooks had got out, he could make out the larger footprints where he had jumped, obviously pulling the receiver out of it's box. He sighed and reached for his pone when he spotted something ahead, a tiny glint of gold or bronze, he couldn't tell. It was a few centimetres right of the footsteps. He knelt down to it, and picked it up, a small shell dented with long marks along the side like a car been keyed over and over. It was a used bullet, a calibre .50 bullet. A Desert Eagle bullet. No wonder Crooks had jumped for the phone.
Suddenly is phone rang, echoing off the surrounding buildings that boxed in the residential home. Angel sprung to his knees and took cover behind one of the concrete outlets that led down to other, emergency stair wells. He wasn't scared, he just knew that someone might pick up the call. He pulled out his phone and clicked it up to his ear, the voice on the other end was worried, jumping over rushed breaths.
'Shit'
'What? Make it quick, they're gonna trace this.'
'You don't have to worry about it. They're coming up the stairs.'
'Who?'
'Two SWAT teams'
'Oh for.'
'Listen, there's two agents, they know where you are, they've got nine floors to go, coming up the western stair set, the other team on the eastern, the emergency wells are cut off by police teams, as soon as you get down there, the agent will be there.'
'Oh my god. Where?', his mind filling with questions, his voice was beginning to jump. 'Exit?'
'There's plenty but you'll have to jump into the building to your right, see the eighth floor , there's an empty room, there's no phone but you can make it to the ground and there are three empty cop cars with weapons inside. From there you can get to the corner of Hutts and Feld, there's a phone, there.I'll be waiting.'
'How long'
'You've got thirty seconds.go.'
In a flash, the phone was gone, disappearing into a golden pocket and rocking around in it's new home as it's owner ran forward, arms jumping back and forth as he powered forward, every inch elaborated in his mind. He knew he would make it. He knew it, he pictured himself bursting through the wall, shattering the window, he could make it. He approached the edge, slamming one foot as close as possible and then pushed his body up, angling it forward so he drifted into a horizontal position, his arms outstretched, pressing his head in. In a flash he was in, the window exploding, shards of glass erupting into the room. The flash of gold rolling out of the door with the force of his jump, into the corridor, dusty, dirty and coughing. Briefly smiling as he raised his hand, covered in dust to stop his cough sending another cloud of sawdust into the corridor. Briefly snatching at a purchase on the wall, the Alpha captain glanced briefly down at his coat, it was no longer gold but a horrible yellow. He stood up and looked back at the room he had disrupted, a small boy was now standing in the doorway, his blue pyjamas stained like his own with the yellow sawdust, his eyes wide with disbelief, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth. Angel laughed before running immediately right, then back again, no stairs.
By Adam Morgan
Up On The Roof Angel was now running up the stairs, much faster, more flowing than his counterpart, his wisdom and age showing in his steps. He pounded forward, his hand hovering over the banister, as a backup only. His hair swung madly in front of his face, bouncing in front of his eyes. He took a brief look up and was met by an open door and a burst of fresh air. His head was pounding, the effect of looking at the screen for so long. He pushed himself through the door and stepped down onto the roof. The ground was made of small stones, shielding the thick, concrete that lay below. He looked ahead, past the shacks, past the rotting masts and into his saviour, the phone. The small booth sticking out of the ground up ahead. He ran towards it, concrete outlets flying past him, his vision bouncing with him. But as he drew closer he saw the phone, a metre away from the dial, the chord revealing the rainbow of wires. He looked ahead, he could see very faint foot steps marked out in the rocks, he looked behind, his were much heavier and distinct. He stepped over, past the phone, towards where the foot prints stopped. At least he could tell Crooks had got out, he could make out the larger footprints where he had jumped, obviously pulling the receiver out of it's box. He sighed and reached for his pone when he spotted something ahead, a tiny glint of gold or bronze, he couldn't tell. It was a few centimetres right of the footsteps. He knelt down to it, and picked it up, a small shell dented with long marks along the side like a car been keyed over and over. It was a used bullet, a calibre .50 bullet. A Desert Eagle bullet. No wonder Crooks had jumped for the phone.
Suddenly is phone rang, echoing off the surrounding buildings that boxed in the residential home. Angel sprung to his knees and took cover behind one of the concrete outlets that led down to other, emergency stair wells. He wasn't scared, he just knew that someone might pick up the call. He pulled out his phone and clicked it up to his ear, the voice on the other end was worried, jumping over rushed breaths.
'Shit'
'What? Make it quick, they're gonna trace this.'
'You don't have to worry about it. They're coming up the stairs.'
'Who?'
'Two SWAT teams'
'Oh for.'
'Listen, there's two agents, they know where you are, they've got nine floors to go, coming up the western stair set, the other team on the eastern, the emergency wells are cut off by police teams, as soon as you get down there, the agent will be there.'
'Oh my god. Where?', his mind filling with questions, his voice was beginning to jump. 'Exit?'
'There's plenty but you'll have to jump into the building to your right, see the eighth floor , there's an empty room, there's no phone but you can make it to the ground and there are three empty cop cars with weapons inside. From there you can get to the corner of Hutts and Feld, there's a phone, there.I'll be waiting.'
'How long'
'You've got thirty seconds.go.'
In a flash, the phone was gone, disappearing into a golden pocket and rocking around in it's new home as it's owner ran forward, arms jumping back and forth as he powered forward, every inch elaborated in his mind. He knew he would make it. He knew it, he pictured himself bursting through the wall, shattering the window, he could make it. He approached the edge, slamming one foot as close as possible and then pushed his body up, angling it forward so he drifted into a horizontal position, his arms outstretched, pressing his head in. In a flash he was in, the window exploding, shards of glass erupting into the room. The flash of gold rolling out of the door with the force of his jump, into the corridor, dusty, dirty and coughing. Briefly smiling as he raised his hand, covered in dust to stop his cough sending another cloud of sawdust into the corridor. Briefly snatching at a purchase on the wall, the Alpha captain glanced briefly down at his coat, it was no longer gold but a horrible yellow. He stood up and looked back at the room he had disrupted, a small boy was now standing in the doorway, his blue pyjamas stained like his own with the yellow sawdust, his eyes wide with disbelief, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth. Angel laughed before running immediately right, then back again, no stairs.
