Before he passed out, Paxton felt a sense of peace deep within. He had died for his country, for a way of life that the world needed to see again. It took a few seconds for him to realize, when his eyes opened, that he was not dead. He moved his head around from left to right trying to get his bearings back. When he tried to move his head upward, the sharp sting from the bullet wound disallowed it. His head slammed back down to the tile flooring. Paxton moved his eyes to the right:
3:02…3:01…3:00…
Kilbourne had succeeded. A buzzing noise now filled Paxton’s ears. It sounded like a fire alarm…or maybe the emergency exit had been tripped. After one more try to get up was unsuccessful, he relaxed his body to the ground. That sense of calm filled him once more. He was going to die for what he believed in after all.
The loud footsteps of yet another USR assault team filled the room. They poured through the room, swept their weapons from left to right, looking to gun down anything that moved. From out of his left ear, Paxton heard the leader of this squad curse out loud at the carnage in front. He cursed at the loss of all those Agents. If Paxton could move his lips, he would have smiled. Three men moved to the back of the lab, to an open door beside the white box. They ran down the hallway and returned seconds later.
“Find anything?” the leader asked.
“Whoever survived this,” said an Agent attempting to catch his breath, “tripped the fire escape. They must’ve made a run for that old church building back there.”
“Take some men with you and go after them.” The leader ordered. “I’ve got an even bigger find.”
The three in back called for Agents to follow them out. Several of the assault team members answered the call and followed them down the hallway. The leader kept his gaze on the man who lay beneath him. He reached for the bottom of the mask and pulled it off. Paxton winced in pain as the mask rubbed against the wound on his neck. The Agent looked down at him with a smile on his face. The old veteran coughed and blood started to come out of his mouth. The leader grabbed a handkerchief and wiped at Paxton’s lips.
“He still alive?” an Agent asked.
“Yes,” the leader replied. “Meet John Paxton: leader of the resistance.”
Paxton wanted to say something, but his vocal cords were not responding. He spit up more blood. That calm, peaceful death was not to be, it seemed. He would now have to wait for another one. That promise he made, back when he and Clarke started this whole thing, came to mind. He always said that he would rather die than let the USR take his freedom.
“What do we do with him?”
“The Consul wants him alive…for now. Take him away.”
Two Agents stood on either side. They reached down and helped Paxton to his feet. Paxton kept trying to talk, but nothing came out except for incoherent mumbles. His fallen comrades came to mind…then he remembered the Agents talk about survivors. Did Kaspar and Krys survive this? He could feel his feet drag against the tile flooring now. He felt light headed like he would black out again. He cursed the bullet wound in his neck. It took away his strength to fight back…forced him into surrender. In all his years fighting, Paxton never envisioned his end coming this way. With him being so weak.
The leader yelled for his men to hurry up. The two Agents that carried Paxton quickened their pace. They soon found themselves back in the lobby. They arrived outside moments later. Next to the USR armored vans sat an ambulance. The double doors in the back of it flew open. The doctors inside pushed a gurney to the outside. The Agents placed Paxton carefully on top then strapped him in tight. They slid the gurney back up into the ambulance. Before the doors were shut, the leader moved in. He sat down on one of the benches next to Paxton.
The emergency personnel inside were quick on their work on the neck wound. Paxton could feel an IV being inserted into his vein. He laid his head back and felt himself slip out of consciousness once more. Before he blacked out, he heard the squad leader say something to him.
“Don’t you die on me, you hear? We have much grander plans for you.”