Chapter 2: Flashback

A/N: I have nothing to say except, that unfortunately, I do not own Alex Rider. He belongs to a man named Anthony Horowitz.

The bullet hit Alex's rib at the so much speed that for a moment, it didn't hurt much. Than the pain set in. It started out slowly, on one spot, but it quickly spread so that Alex was feeling agony through every spot or his body.

There was a blood in his mouth. It tasted like rust and spit. His lip must have been bleeding, because when he wiped his mouth there was blood on his sleeve. He was so tired. He was so sick or all this. He was sick. He wanted to go home, kick around a football with Tom and James, talk to Sabina, go get ice cream with Jack. Or course, he knew this wasn't possible but it was nice to imagine.

More shots fired at him. People screaming. Alex ducked around a corner, leaning against a red mud brick house which was common in these parts of the desert, and caught his breathe. There was a raw taste in his mouth. He wanted to drink some water, but there were more shots, fired too close for comfort, and Alex started running again.

He passed a woman and a child. She yelled at him in a foreign language, one Alex didn't understand, and Alex shouted back to her for her to run, though he doubted that she understood him.

He kept running up the streets, ducking around people, trying not to trip and stumble on his own feet. No one gave him a second look, although the sight of a teenage boy with blood slowly seeping through his clothes and mouth, running like his life depended on it seemed pretty darn suspicious if you asked Alex.

Alex knew he couldn't keep running. He had to stop eventually. But where? Almost all the houses were empty, but he would be a sitting duck if he dived into there.

Then he saw it up ahead. A abandoned old shed, probably used to store grain or food for winter. It was next to a house, and the door of the house was open, all it's occupants long gone.

Alex was sure they wouldn't mind if he used their shed. A darker thought occurred to him-what if they never came back? What if all of them died?
He shoved the thought away, sprinting towards the door. He wrenched the door open, pulling himself inside, and than closing it. Sitting down on the musty old floor of the shed, Alex tried to slow his breathing. He knew he had been hit in chest. Breathing hard was going to cause more blood to seep out.

Alex's vision tilted, and than he threw up on the floor of the shed. It looked like ground coffee grounds, and falling back on his training at the SAS camp in Wales, he knew he had internal bleeding.

Nauseous, he turned away, trying to concentrate on anything but the tangy smell of his own vomit. Alex noted the shed was large, built two feet into the ground. There was one large shelf running the perimeter of the whole thing, and on it, were sacks of grain and buckets.

Alex pulled himself to his feet, and searched the shelves for anything useful. He came back with a tin bucket with a crooked handle. It would do. At least if he threw up, it wouldn't be on the floor.

Alex sat down on the floor again. There was moonlight spilling in through a window in the shed. It was a large window, and Alex was tempted to cover the window. However, the idea of being all alone is the dark shed made him uncomfortable.

Alex sat on the floor. He just realized that he was still in the clothes he had worn to bed, boxers and a loose white t shirt. He shivered. The clothes did nothing to protect him against the cold wind blowing through the village now.

There were small jagged scars on his ankles from the day before. He half smiled. Walking through a field full of nettles trying to escape a notorious mob. He thought he had shaken them of his trail, but the attack tonight was proof that he hadn't.

He tilted his head slightly, listening. Yes. It was there. MI6 had arrived. The faint chop chop of helicopters were proof.

There were more shouts and screams outside the shed. Alex glanced once at the door. He had locked it, thankfully. Outside the shed, was a completely different world. One full of suffering and noise and guns and blood. Inside the shed, however, it was only Alex. Tired Alex. Injured Alex. But Alive Alex. It was better than Dead Alex.

He closed his eyes. The attack had taken place around midnight. Alex wasn't sure exactly when. He had left his watch on his bedside table, and the watch was probably gone, along with all his other belongings, but at least he had remembered to activate the watch Smithers had given him.

Thank god MI6 had been so close. He might have had more than one bullet in his body, if it hadn't been for the fact that MI6 had decided to interfere now.

Alex jumped, startled, as a machine gun released a torrent of bullets. There were more screams, and people shouting in foreign languages. Alex covered his ears. He didn't want to hear screaming. He heard it way too much anyways.

Softly, he exhaled. Inhaled. Focused on his breathing. Sleep started creeping back into his brain. Alex held it of as best as he could. He could not afford to fall asleep now, not in such a critical part of the mission, but sleep managed to sneak past his defenses and Alex was soon out cold on the floor.

" Make the screaming stop." Alex mumbled, thrashing around. " Stop!" He yelled, than sat up boltright.

There was nurse nearby. She frowned at him, concerned.

" Are you okay, dear?"

Alex took a few shaky breaths. " Yeah," he said, trying to calm down his racing heart. "Just...nightmares."

The nurse nodded sympathetically. " We all get them, especially troubled children." She put a hand on his shoulder. " Feel free to talk to me if you ever need anything, okay?"

Troubled children? Where had that come from? Probably the lie MI6 told the hospital to explain why he was in the state he was in. Alex smiled crookedly.

" Okay." He said. The nurse nodded, satisfied. She ran a few tests on him, before giving him a sleeping pill and leaving the room. Alex, despite his wishes, drifted of to sleep again.

A/N: So…the only person who reviewed so far was Teddybearcrazy. Thanks again, Teddybearcrazy!

Anyway, I decided to write the second chapter anyway and get it over with. WARNING: Their might not be another chapter for at least a week, because I have school (Yes, I too, have something called a LIFE)

Please give me some ideas for some new chapter inserts, such as a romantic interest, or someone trying to kill Alex AGAIN ( why is nobody surprised?) because…

The small things count.