Hey everyone! I'm glad to hear that you all want to read more. Even though I've submitted fifteen chapters, I still cant escape that little feeling of self-consciousness every time(last chapter was the perfect example). I know you all say you like it and everything, but It makes me wonder if I'm still making the par. This time, though, I'm pretty satisfied (horray!), and please write me a big long review for this one! Here's the 14th chapter! -DD.
Alleviation
Mikaela gaped at the still form at the bottom of the stairs. Realizing that she hadn't the slightest clue about who this "dangerous man" had been, she flipped on all of the light switches that were in reach, giving her proper light to survey the room. As soon as the light revealed that Sam was the only one, so far, in the room, Mikaela ran over to him, kneeling beside him and turning him to his back.
"Sam?" she tried to shake him awake. "Sam what happened?" His head jostled loosely from side to side as she shook him, his eyes opening slightly. What was wrong with him? He was breathing, but it seemed like he had simply gone to sleep. His face was awfully scraped up, he had obviously fallen down the stairs, maybe he had hit his head? "We gotta get you outa here Sam." she said, knowing he probably couldn't hear her. She was actually talking to herself more than to him, kind of like a moral support. "We need to get you to the hospital." Mikaela stood up, completely forgetting there was another person lurking in the house, and focussed on the task at hand. Grabbing him by his armpits, Mikaela managed to drag Sam a couple of feet before tripping over her own feet and tumbling to the ground. Her purse slammed on the hard-wood floor, and out, among other things, slid the gun.
Bumblebee and Optimus sat impatiently on the side of the street, cleverly disguised as a really new Camaro and a big truck with a custom paint job. They could literally do nothing more. Bumblebee had gotten help, in the form of a teenage girl who had gotten more help, in the form of police that hadn't arrived yet. It seemed like an eternity waiting for the policemen, and Optimus was more than anxious. "Are you absolutely sure she called the right number?" he asked, a little louder than he should have, to the little yellow car. "She dialed 9-1-1." Bumblebee said, also impatiently, "That is the emergency number on Earth, correct?" Optimus didn't need to answer. It was indeed the correct number. "And she gave them the correct address?" He knew it was a long-shot, but maybe the girl had accidentally given the wrong house numbers. Humans tended to be forgetful. "The numbers she gave matched the ones on Sam's house. They know where to go" Bumblebee said, provoking a sigh from Optimus Prime. "So where could they be?"
Mikaela was suddenly aware of the other presence in the house. The creaking of the walls told her that there was definitely someone walking around upstairs. Soon, she would meet him. But Sam had fallen most inconveniently on a good portion of her legs, effectively trapping her, albeit temporarily. It was easy enough for her to free herself, she pulled her right leg out from under him and used it to push him off of her left. It did cost her a few precious seconds to do so though, and the offender was, by the sound of it, at the top of the stairs. There was a strong draft flowing through the house, and Mikaela's eyes widened as the wind swung the door around and slammed it shut, coating the entire living room with silence. Mikaela turned back towards her purse, that had seemed to slide so far, only to notice that one key item was missing.
It had taken almost ten minutes of stressful waiting, but to Optimus and Bumblebee's relief, two police cars came zooming around the corner in the distance, lights flashing, sirens blaring. "Oh thank god." Bumblebee whispered. Optimus found that just a little peculiar. He had never before heard Bumblebee mention god before, or any spiritual figures for that matter. But, he supposed Bumblebee was merely picking up on the lingo. Come to think of it, he actually heard humans say things similar to that quite often. "I hope they catch that man. Sam will never be safe until they do." said Optimus Prime, getting just a little ahead of himself. "Well, I just hope they get Sam out okay." Bumblebee put in his two cents, "As far as we know, something horrible could have already happened to him." The robot was sounding more and more like a human, Optimus Prime couldn't stop thinking about how much Bumblebee had changed since they arrived here. But not necessarily for the worse... "All we can do is hope, Bee." Optimus tripped slightly on the words, but he was undeniably liking the idea of talking more like a human.
Inside the house, Mikaela's eyes frantically scanned the ground for her source of protection, which had now become the source of her biggest threat. It wasn't there. Whoever was here had taken it when she had gazed, for just a little too long, at the door. But wait, she had never checked if it was loaded, and come to think of it her father didn't usually keep bullets in them. There was a pretty good chance that the gun wasn't loaded.
"You teenagers lose your things so easily." Matt said, making his second debut of the night. He walked out from the kitchen. "But his cell phone was so much less deadly than your toy..."he said, holding the pistol in his right hand, and the cell phone in his left, turning them sideways as if literally weighing them. "Your failure to concentrate will be your downfall, as it is with so many these days," Matt loved sounding sophisticated, smart. It was so much more intimidating if it seemed like everything was planned. It made them squirm.
"It's not loaded!" she literally screamed at him, waiting for a reaction. Matt, who was a little taken back by the bold move, proceeded to take out the clip to examine the actual amount of ammunition the firearm contained. The magazine revealed a single bullet, perfect. "I'm afraid your are mistak-" Mikaela threw herself on the gun, more than easily snatching it away from the surprised Matt. As she was tumbling around, trying to avoid him, she popped the clip back into the pistol and cocked it. But the next thing she knew the man was on top of her, wrestling the gun away from her. She wouldn't let him. She couldn't let him. Her life actually depended on this moment, she was in over her head. The gun was fumbled from pair of hands to pair of hands until neither of them knew whose hands were on what part. Seconds turned to minutes as time slowed down, allowing both of them to hear the blast of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun, but only one of them felt it.