Chapter 2: Recalling the Escape

Subject Tyler 044 ducked behind a stainless steel doorway and waited as a half dozen soldiers armed with M4 assault rifles raced past searching for him. As soon as they rounded a corner and were out of sight, Tyler cautiously peeked his headout, making sure the coast was clear. He then tip-toed from his hiding spot, making sure to make absolutely no sound at all.

Even with the blaring klaxon alarms and flashing crimson warning lights, Tyler's focused was intent on surviving as he knew that they would kill him if the chance was open. On the positive side, he didn't have on his normal gear of combat boots and military fatigues. All he wore was a pair of slippers and white medical scrubs. With those on, he would be able to keep significantly quieter while in the complex, but if he made it out, there was nothing but miles and miles of desert and doctor's garb wouldn't give him much protection from the elements.

"This way!" Tyler heard someone call out from behind him.

Quickly, he squelched the thought of being in the desert and focused in on the now. Tyler sprang up to his feet and dashed away. He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt–right in front of a pair of armed guards. Quickly they leveled their rifles, aiming for Tyler's head.

"Echo Three to Alpha One? We fond him–preparing to en–" the guard reported into his helmet microphone.

Before the guard had a chance to finish, Tyler grabbed the muzzle of the gun and bent it backwards, preventing the first guard from firing. With lightning quickness, he wrenched the rifle away from the stunned man. Before the second guard could react, Tyler swung the rifle as hard as he could, clubbing the armed guard in the ribs.

The force of the blow sent the sentry flipping head over heels. He landed with a thud and lay there motionless as he was knocked out cold. The other guard quickly dove for his fallen comrade's rifle, snagged it off the floor, and leveled it to where Tyler was.

"What the...?" the guard muttered as he noticed Tyler was not in his sights anymore. "Alpha One? I've lost the target. I repeat I lost the– Oh no–"

Before the guard could finish his alert, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Before he could turn around and level his gun, a small fist smashed into the back of his head with unbridled force. The guard flew forward onto his face and skidded to a halt, now unconscious.

It won't be long before they come to see what happened, Tyler thought to himself. He decided to grab one of the guard's helmet's and a radio so he would know where the others were deployed. If there was one thing helpful about his training, avoidance was the best ally to the main target, with his target being the outside world.

"Echo three? Echo three, what's your status? Over," A voice buzzed in through one of the downed guards.

That was Tyler's cue to run. Fast.

The rhythmic clack clack of combat boots against scrubbed metal floors became more audible and Tyler vacated his location. He rounded a corner and crouched down low while pressing himslef against the wall as tightly as he could just as a contingent of officers rounded the corner he started out from. Silently, he slunk away.

"There should be a vent, or mainenance hatch around here. Where is it?" he whispered to himself.

Tyler kept himself firmly pressed against the metal walls. Just then, he heard the footsteps and voices of the officers coming in his direction. Tyler thought quickly as he sped up his sneaking away.

Up ahead there's a corridor with exposed lattice work on the ceiling, he thought. With the normal lighting off, it would be the perfect place to hide. Now how to get there?

Sneaking was getting him nowhere. His only hope was to make an all out dash for the corridor.

"Hold it!" someone called about fifty yards behind him.

Tyler didn't bother to look. He sprang up and sprinted, getting to full speed within two strides. The officer leveled his gun and pulled the trigger. Fiery bullets raced past Tyler as he jumped, ducked and dodged with hot metal slugs. He tightened the helmet on his head, just then a bullet smacked him on his helmet and ricocheted away, sending the seven year old boy flipping end on end. He didn't give the ringing pain in his head another thought as he kept running. Tyler then turned around a corner, and into the corridor he needed to be in. He saw a few dozen cargo bins and he took cover behind them.

All he wanted to do was relieve himself of the splitting headache that throbbed between his ears. He knew that his body would heal itself soon, but nonetheless, the pain was taking its toll, after all, he was still just a kid.

"You in here lil' boy?" Tyler head someone whisper.

He peeked his head out just enough so he could see without being seen himself. Tyler saw the officers sneak in as if they were a pack of velociraptors searching for their prey. Without a sound, he ducked away and thought of a plan. He needed a distraction in the worst way because in order to get into the lattice work high above his head, he'd be an open target. And these men would shoot him if he was exposed.

The radio, he thought. With that, Tyler took the radio in his left and, stood up, reared back, and threw the radio into the wall as hard as he could. The device shattered into hundreds of plastic and metal shards as well as brilliant orange-white sparks. Tyler then hopped up on the cargo bins, jumped straight up as high as he could–about ten feet–and grasped onto a girder. He swung his legs back and forth and his body around like a circus acrobat, landing on the narrow beam of steel.

Down below, the startled guards went over to investigate the shattered piece of communications equipment. It was clear that they weren't alone, but where was that boy? And how did he evade them so easily? The guards panned their vision to where Tyler was mere seconds ago.

Nothing.

Above them, Tyler hid between a cross brace and melted into the shadows, even with his all-white attire. He stalked the guards down below that were hunting him. Tyler began to question himself on how he indeed managed to survive. Sure, he had the training to boot, but a whole contingency of guards wearing kevlar bullet-proof vests and helmets along with an assortment of automatic weapons not being able to capture–and eliminate–a child was nearly inexcusable. Tyler cracked a small grin, knowing that their superiors, and his own creator, would throw a nuclear fit if he escaped.

Tyler remained in his hiding place, high above the floor in the exposed girders, for a couple minutes. The guards that had made their way into the same corridor he was in searched the area below. Tyler prayed that they wouldn't look up. Luckily, they didn't as they jogged out of the entrance. The clack clack of boots marching away from him was one of the best sounds he heard in a while.

With his enhanced vision, Tyler took note of a vent just large enough for him to squeeze through. This would be a cake walk. Tyler estimated distances between the lattices, about seven or eight feet apart. He silently gained his footing on the edge, bent his knees, then leapfrogged to the next lattice and landed with a muffled metallic clink.

"No sweat," he whispered to himself. "One down, five to go."

Tyler continued to hop from one set of brace girders to the next until he reached the fourth. Just as he landed, his left foot slipped causing him to lose his balance and fall. Quickly, he grabbed onto the lattice and held on. If he did fall, the landing wouldn't him physically. But it would kill a chunk of his morale at the fact that he'd have to start completely over. Not to mention that while climbing back up to the steel girders would leave him wide open in the event that a guard did walk by.

With that, Tyler hauled himself up and regained his footing. Quickly, and without a sound, he leapt onto the final lattice, but instead of landing with his feet, he grabbed onto the outcropping with his hands and let his forward inertia propel himself forward, right into the vent grates.

"Boo Yah," He said just loud enough for him to hear and he clutched the grate.

The space between the vent grate was large, but not big enough for an adult. Tyler slid through, though it was somewhat tight. He landed with a crouch and made his way out.

After what felt like an hour, Tyler felt a slight breeze on his face. It was warm. Almost there, he thought to himself. Tyler made sure not to get complacent, he kept his guard up, knowing that there would be bad people waiting for him outside.

Soon, Tyler was at a steel grate. Sunlight flooded the small passageway that Tyler was making his way through.

"I-I made it," he whispered, looking out at the wide open desert through the openings in the grate.

Tyler also saw guards, dozens of them, marching back and forth, intent on making his escape impossible. Silently, Tyler pushed open the grate just enough for him to slip through. He took a quick breath, and fell down to the ground, about thirty feet below. As soon as he landed, he crouched and hid behind a parked jeep. Just then, a pair of guards marched past, mere feet away from Tyler. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

"You hear? That kid knocked out B Company and evaded everyone else," Tyler heard one of the guards say.

"How could some godforsaken kid get away from a bunch of armed grunts?" The second guard asked.

"Hell if I know, but keep your eyes sharp. They say that lil' bastard could be right behind you and you wouldn't know it," the first guard noted.

Tyler scowled at how that guard referred to him as a bastard. He didn't even know what a bastard was, but he had heard the term dozens of times and he did know that it was derogatory. Quickly, he put those emotions aside and watched as the guards continued along their path, away from him and the jeep. As soon as the guards were a good distance away, Tyler took a quick look around, making sure that no one else could see him. He then slithered into the jeep and checked the glove box for something he could use.

"Here we go," he purred as he collected a pocket knife, a compass, and a small ready-to-eat meal package.

Now, it was time to make a break for the fence. Without hesitation, he ran for dear life, straight for the fence.

"There he is! After him!" Tyler heard someone call out.

Guards seemed to stream from everywhere, but Tyler didn't dare look back. Soon, the staccato of assault rifle fire shattered the silence of the desert. Geysers of dust and sand coughed upwards where bullets, aiming for Tyler missed. One bullet, however, grazed Tyler's arm and dark red blood welled from the wound. Tyler grimaced at the wound, but he continued onwards. About ten feet from the fence, Tyler leapt high into the air and grasped onto the fence with his free hand. He dropped his meal package and compass back to the ground below. Getting them wasn't an option so he placed the pocket knife into his mouth and scampered up the fence. Bullets raced past him as he climbed for his life.

Once at the top, he grabed a hold of the razor wire that tore into his hands. Tears from the pain trickled down his face, but he wouldn't let the cuts slow him. Without another thought, he hurled himself over the fence and to the hard ground below.

Sand and dust kicked up into his face and stuck due to the sweat and tears. The palms of his hands stung and the gunshot wound throbbed, but he continued to run, deeper into the vast, dry desert.

After a full on sprint of five miles, Tyler slowed down to a stop, then he dropped to his knees. He was free. No more training, no more experiments or tests. He could just be a kid. Tyler remembered his wounds and he quickly checked his hands. Dried blood covered his hands, but the gaping cuts were closed as his nothing happened. Next, he checked his arm. The sleeve of his white shirt was maroon and there was a hole where the bullet grazed him. The wound, however, was closing all on its own.

"Weird," Tyler said, examining his hands

With that, he kept on moving, knowing that if he stayed in one place, he'd be caught then killed. While he walked, he thought, not about any one thing, but about life and why he was here. Well, technically, he knew he served a purpose as an assassin, but there had to me more than just being a killer. He pondered for a few hours as he continued to walk.

Soon, the powder blue sky began to turn colors. The sun slowly began to dip down behind the mountains and now Tyler had a bearing of which way he was heading. The sun was setting off to his left so he figured that he was walking due north. He then heard something: the low rumble of an engine gradually getting louder.

A roadway, he thought as he trudged up a hill and saw a tractor trailer truck thunder past. The wind from the truck whipped up sand. Tyler watched the moving sand and silt swirl around in spiral patterns. Other than the truck, there was no other vehicles for miles that Tyler could see. He decided to walk westward and soon he saw a sign.

"Route sixty-six," he mouthed. "Maybe I can find something to eat along here."