Counterproductive for Containment




It's early in the morning and the heat of summer is at a peak today, he wakes up feeling his lover's embrace, a luxury that he couldn't afford a while ago.

He leaves the bed and goes to the kitchen.

He'd usually have a simple course of oatmeal and perhaps some fried eggs, but he felt that today was special, he'd do something different.

In the bottom compartment of his fridge was a very pricey packet of quality bacon, perhaps too costly for its contents altogether.

As soon as he has every cooking item set on top of the counter he begins preparing what he hopes will turn out to be a marvelous breakfast.

The bacon gives out a really nice smell as it cooks, but perhaps it gave out too much, perhaps the dogs could smell it too. He cleared those no good thoughts of his mind, this was no time to worry, this was kind of a honeymoon after all.

Then came the eggs, he usually had problems when he made any kind of eggs. Sometimes they'll come out a little bit overcooked, sometimes he'd forget to add salt, or sometimes he'd add too much butter, regardless, what mattered is that he was there cooking the eggs, and they had to come out good.

He savoured the eggs, good, they tasted good. Not too good, but good, and good enough.

Finally, the last part came, he had to make some juice. But did he buy oranges?
He checked the fridge. No oranges.

Of course he'd forgotten the oranges, he always does forget something.

And as he was blaming and cursing himself over this dumb mistake, he remembered.

He had seen an orange tree less than a mile away. Not a tree that is of the color orange, but a tree that has oranges hanging out from it, normally in groups of three or four oranges.

He wasted no time, the breakfast was cooling down and he couldn't have that, not that day, not anymore. And so he put on his boots and jacket and opened the door to go outside. But then it hit him, he couldn't just go outside like that without before at least mentioning where he'd go.

He went back to the room, kissed his lover on the front and said that he'd just go to get some oranges, he'd be back soon.

And like that he was outside, halfway to where he had seen the previously mentioned orange tree, he started noticing how cold it was outside, thing that was rare at this time of year. He brushed it off, it was possibly just because it was early in the morning, right?

As soon as he saw the trees he hurried towards them. He felt that too much time had passed and that he needed to get back as soon as possible, but in reality not much more than ten minutes had gone by since he headed off.

When he finally got there, he grabbed a bunch of oranges, about 5 of them. And now everything was set, he could go back and finish making breakfast, but he decided to stay a little bit to watch the beautiful scenery of the orange tree yard. It was truly a sight to behold.

The way back to the shack was quicker, this was due to the fact that the terrain was a bit steep, but he did not really notice that, his mind was circling around the weird weather of that day. Clouds were gathering above, gray coulds. And with this cold it was surely going to snow.

Finally, he puts his jacket on the hanger and enters the kitchen. The breakfast was still there, and it was still warm, but, of course, it was colder than when he had left, and so he had to make the orange juice quickly.

But he was too slow. The glass broke, he lost his senses. Couldn't see, couldn't hear. Well not completely true really, all he saw was white, all he heard was a loud beep that wouldn't stop.

He knew he was found. He stumbled, slowly regaining his senses. He saw them come inside, several armed men. Good thing he always carries his gun.

He fires. One down. Dead center between the eyes.

He runs to the bedroom. His lover is still there, motionless. Good, he still has a chance. The window breaks again, this times he knows what to do. To the ground, closed eyes, covered his ears. He opens his eyes, he's good.

The door will cede at any minute, he expects men to come through the windows at any second.

He fires towards the door.

He doesn't know it, but he got two more of them.

But now they're firing back. By mere inches a bullet didn't hit him. He's now on the ground, subject to supression fire. His lover was hit. Not a problem, it will grow back, but it's taking more time than it should.

Now the pair is crawling towards a little hole in the ground that would otherwise be used as a refuge in case of a hurricane and whatnot. Inside this refuge there was a way out. The problem was that they were probably surrounded. But it was still a better plan than any other.

He opens the hatch. Pokes his head out. They haven't seen him yet. The machine gunner was in sight, still firing at the bedroom, three men were preparing to go inside.

He counts till ten, that was normal procedure. The gunner ends his barrage and the three men immediately enter the bedroom.

Now this was their chance. Two shots. Two dead men. The pair runs for it, their truck wasn't parked far away.

But it was cold, really cold.

He could bear with it. But his lover seemed to be having big trouble moving forward.
Then they stop. The truck wasn't there. That was it.

He still had two more shots. He heard many footsteps their way, they were found.

No more time to think, he took cover. One shot. Missed.

Only one more shot in his gun. He had to make a choice.

And it was like time had stopped.

He felt a strange peace. No more worries, no more pain.
He felt as if everything that troubled him was completely gone.

He took a moment to look at his surroundings with great calm.

Looking up he saw the sky, he noticed that snow was falling down. What a beautiful moment.

Looking to his left he saw the wilderness.

The birds, the squirrels, the plants, the trees, magnificent even in winter.

Looking to his right he saw a net. His lover was in it.

Their persecutors were handling it like professionals, a marvelous job.

Finally, he looked down. He saw the blood.

It was rushing down, the snow was turning red.

Did he always have those holes in his chest?…

It didn't matter, nothing more did. He was in complete peace. No fear or worries, it was a perfect death for him, he had put up a great fight.

As he took his last breaths, he could hear them.

They were distant, but he still understood them.

"Driscoll ha… ..termin…."…he said "Driscoll," right? Because that's his last…. he's sure of that, so they are talking about him, huh.

"Alph…. five men…. "

Slowly drifting asleep. He was not able to see anymore, he had gone blind, but he didn't mind.

"err..cee…. zero.. ro….. won…"

He realized that it was being sent back to a cell.

Treated like an anomaly, a monster.

Given an item number, dehumanized.

But he didn't really mind. The Authority wasn't that bad. Even if it would go back to living as RPC-001, it would be living a comfortable and safe life, thing that he wasn't able to give it in all the time since they eloped.

This was it. He could feel it. His body would not respond anymore.

As he drifted to sleep, only one more thought remained that bothered him.

….he figured that breakfast was probably cold by now.

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