Science-Fiction

My breathing came tagged, but I couldn't afford to stop running. They were after me, except unlike the last time when I'd failed the task I was assigned, this time I had the tube clutched tightly in my right hand. Father would be pleased.

"There!" shouted a guard in an all-black uniform, and immediately a swarm of about two hundred more were storming in my direction.

If I'd been running before, now I was flying; my feet were no longer on the ground but gliding above it as I ran to make my escape. Turn after turn in that labyrinth of hallways didn't faze me; I knew the blueprint of this building by heart. And when I finally rounded a corner to face the large metal doors, I knew I'd made it.

The guards footsteps were coming nearer, as were their shouts becoming louder so I didn't dally any longer and pushed open the doors. The cold wind blew a loose hair in my face, but I didn't pay it any mind and shut the door. I grabbed a piece of metal pipe from a nearby bin and used it to lodge the door, securing it so that I'd have some advantage.

Turning to the dark outside, I ran as hard and as fast as I could, knowing that I'd made it.

I was what they wanted; I was what they were searching; I was what they feared the most. And all because of the glass tube in my hand.