Alex Rider: Contamination
By: Edna B.
Chapter Four: Take Your Chance
Annabelle's POV
I could see the creases upon my mother's cheek where the duct tape had been ripped off only moments before.
"Anna," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "Give it to him." The chip remained in my hand, unscathed. Millions of ideas poured into my head, only to be distracted by my brothers whimpering. Anger coursed through my veins as I saw the terror in his eyes and the maliciousness in his captors. He struggled but the man's grip was firm.
My father sat stone still, not even attempting to break free from his cuffs. If only I could see the escape routes and ideas forming behind his composed eyes. I looked harder, but his eyes refused to meet mine. They remained glued to the ground, open and undone.
I looked down at the chip resting in the palm of my trembling hand, and back to my enemy. His hand remained outstretched awaiting my surrender. The gun in his other hand glinted in the artificial light beaming from the ceiling.
"Give it to me now," He said slowly. I was aware of every slight movement he made, every sound of terror from my brother, every anxious glance from my mother and every rattled breath that escaped my lungs. Most importantly, I was aware of the danger and death that the chip in my hand exuded. With this tiny chip, this man in front of me could cause billions of deaths and I could not be the one to hand-deliver his weapon of mass destruction right to him.
"Never," I whispered with all my strength. I closed my hand around the chip and felt its rough edges gently nudge the insides of my palm. He smiled cruelly.
"How about a trade?" He said. "That tiny chip for the lives of your family." I froze. He walked over to my mother and shoved the gun against her head. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face. The sick smile on his face made my stomach churn uncomfortably. My mom looked at me pleadingly, salty tears rolling down her face. I looked over to my father for help, but none came. His intent eyes remained fixed on the floor, unchanged. I didn't know what to do. How could something as little as a chip be the cause of so much destruction?
"No?" My enemy asked. "Very well then."
He fired.
I awoke with a start, the desperate shouts of my mother still ringing in my ears. I let out a shaky breath as I slowly pushed myself up. I squinted, the bright lights blinding me. I looked over at Alex, who lay sleeping on a couch at the other end of the room. Ms. Jones's condo was quite inexpressive. There were no pictures of her or her family, nothing that showed her interests, not even an aura that conveyed family or love. Everything was clean and orderly, making me feel even more dirty. I looked down at my clothes, covered in soot and grime. I tried to brush some off, but it was moot.
Alex stirred lightly. Keeping his eyes shut against the harsh light, he turned over in a daze. The ash that remained on his face sent me back. I vaguely remember what happened after we found the corpse of Smithers in his driveway. I remember seeing Alex collapse, almost doing so myself. Before I was even able to open my mouth to scream for help, a herd of black SUV's came screaming down the street, screeching to a halt in front of me. After that, I was in and out of reality. Someone pushed an oxygen mask on my face and forced a jacket around my shaking shoulders. The sound of sirens filled my head as I stared at the ceiling of an ambulance. I called out Alex's name, hoping desperately he was there. Paramedics talked quickly, but my mind wouldn't let me understand what they were saying. I sat in a daze upon this very sofa as they carried Alex in and set him upon the couch opposite me. Mysterious men in suits walked in and out, passing in a blur. A doctor came in and after examining Alex, held something cold to my chest. His icy hands ran over my bare skin, giving me goose bumps. I was able to understand bits of what the doctor was saying to a worried Ms. Jones.
"They'll be fine,"
"State of shock,"
"Smoke inhalation,"
"They need rest,"
The memories flooded back to me as I closed my eyes and remembered seeing Smithers's body engulfed in flames. I quickly pushed the image out of my mind.
The entire day had been a roller coaster of emotions but as night came, all seemed to have been going well. Alex and I had made up; Smithers had given us a bunch of cool gadgets; Alex and I had almost kissed.
My heart skipped a beat.
The scene played over and over again in my head. I could see Alex's face growing closer and closer to mine. I could see the hope and lust in his eyes. My breathe caught in my throat as his lips lightly brushed mine—
Alex grunted and jerked awake. Looking around the room he spotted me. His eyes registered shock, confusion, and as his memory returned, devastation. I slowly got up and walked across the room towards him.
"Alex?" I asked. "Are you OK?" He didn't answer. I sat next to him and wrapped my arms about his shoulders.
He placed his head in the crook of my neck and I rubbed his back. I could feel him trembling, recalling last night's events as I had. Against my bare skin, his face remained stony, and I felt no tears escape his closed eyes. Every nerve in his body tensed, trying not to let the grief overcome his senses. He slowed his breathing and after a while, raised his head. His eyes were red, but somehow dry. Lines of worry and anguish played across his forehead. That, alongside his vacant eyes, made him look 20 years older. An aura of exhaustion surrounded him. He closed his eyes as my hand felt the warmth of his cheek.
At that moment, Ms. Jones walked in. The early morning sun shone through the windows and made her look younger than she really was. The rays of light amplified the worry and terror on her face.
"Are you alright?" she asked. I quickly nodded as I stood up, unsure of what to do. Alex remained staring at the floor.
"Who did it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"We have reason to believe McCroy sent some of his people." Alex's head shot up. "Don't worry. You two are safe. They didn't know whose house they were at; they just know that McCroy told them to get rid of Smithers. McCroy knew Smithers worked for us and he received a tip off that we were sending some agents in to 'check things out'. Security will double down at the TwistMist Company so you'll have to be extra careful. You missed your 5 A.M flight," She hastily checked her watch. "It is now 6 A.M. You have another arranged flight at 3 P.M and shall arrive in Australia at 1 A.M promptly, their time. Any questions?" I remained silent. Alex, on the other hand, shot up from his seat.
"You're not going to do anything!" He shouted. Ms. Jones looked taken aback by Alex's outburst. "You have the proof that McCroy sent his men to kill Smithers, but you're doing NOTHING! You have the proof, yet you're not canceling this mission! You'd rather see Anna and I put our lives on the line so we can catch a criminal that has already been caught red-handed! And by you! What's the point of this mission now? To watch him strike again? What about next time? Are we the bait? Anna and I will be right under his nose and it would be so easy for him to kill us right then and there!" He gestured to me. Rage contorted his features. "So tell me, Ms. Jones; what is the point of this mission? Why are we still going?" Tension filled the air. Silence hung all around us.
Ms. Jones composed her posture. "Alex," She started. "I understand. The stress of death can—"
"Oh, cut the bullshit!" Alex screamed. My eyes widened. "This isn't so much about Smithers as it is about the safety of Anna and me."
"That is quite enough," Ms. Jones said as raised her chin. "I expect to see you on that plane today at 3 P.M, am I understood, Mr. Rider?" Ms. Jones' voice resembled that of a mothers before resorting to counting backwards from 3. Alex clenched his jaw.
"We'll be on the plane, ma'am." I piped up. Ms. Jones nodded briefly before walking briskly out of the room. Alex rounded on me.
"Why did you say that?" he asked, anger dripping from his voice like honey.
"You heard Ms. Jones," I said. "She said she had 'reason to believe'. She never once said she had exact 'proof'. Without proof, what can MI6 do, Alex? Nothing. That is why they need us. We need to get this proof so no one else has to die. If we don't do this, McCroy will get away with killing Smithers. Do you want that? Do you want everyone to think Smithers' death was a tragic accident or do you want to expose McCroy for the real man he is and prove to everyone that Smithers was murdered?" My voice withered. I didn't realize that halfway through my speech, I started yelling.
I looked Alex in the eyes. His brow was furrowed and a look of defeat played across his features.
"I don't want Smithers to die in vain," he said as he slumped back on the sofa. I sat down next to him.
"That's exactly why we need to go," I said.
"But we already know McCroy is dangerous. I don't want to put us in danger. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he got a hold of you and..." His voice trailed off, the look in his eyes revealing the dark terrors he saw within his mind.
"Hey," I said lightly, with a smirk. "I can look after myself. You have to trust me. And anyways, we are agents Alex. Sacrificing ourselves for the welfare of others is what we do. I'm happy to protect others. It's my job."
"I still don't like the idea of going," he said as he shook his head wearily.
"Oh, come on!" I said as I stood up and tugged on his hand. He reluctantly stood up. "If there's even the slightest chance that you could protect someone from harm, would you do it?"
"Yes," he replied, offended.
"And if there was a chance to protect me, would you do it?"
"Of course," he said.
"Well then, you'd better get on that plane because without you, McCroy will discover who I am quickly and my life will be at stake. Without you, I'm exposed. Whether you come with me or not, I'm going. Here's your chance to protect me. Take it."
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