Thirteen Minutes 2/2

Of all the fucking details to leave out, Nathan fumed as his female scout turned back to the entrance. Physical discomfort, my ass. This is a full on seizure!

Had this been a simple operation, Nathan would have jammed a wallet into Simon’s mouth to stop the man from biting his tongue off. Too late now, though it seemed the General had already thought about it. The muscles of the pale man’s jaw stood out like steel rods and just as unmoving.

Glancing at the screens surrounding the glass coffin, the captain noted the drastic jags and swipes that read like a Richter scale during an airstrike. As alarming as they were, none showed signs of a complete crash, which was all Nathan was watching for. Thank God, Syd gave us something to smooth out the outbound signal. The fail-safes would have buried us all under thirty tons of rock.

No one wanted the General to have a meltdown, though the reasons varied. Nathan wasn’t sure if Simon’s abilities were still intact, but having his brain fried was not in the plans.

Come on, you bastard. Seven more minutes!


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About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma, Writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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