The Program

Chapter Seventeen

"So," I started, feeling as if I should have nudged John just now. Part of me was trying to fill the empty air between us with some type of conversation, that attempt dying as I couldn't figure out anything worth spilling from my mouth to continue my sentence.

After all, there's only so many chances you get to figure out how to handle finding out you might die.

For me, this was chance number two.

But I had always been one to go in an awkward direction, my mother saying it was a quality I picked up on when puberty struck. Naturally, proving her right, I instinctively bit my lip and tucked some of my hair behind my ear.

"You were saying something." John acknowledged, not really listening. Turns out, though I went with awkward, he was going with daydreaming when finding out he may die with me too.

But I would say the impact was somehow deeper for him. After all, it had occurred because he had to save me, risking his life, for me.

Though I still wasn't sure how he was planning to do that.

I cleared my throat, something I had done a lot in the last few minutes, maybe hoping to catch his attention better, maybe just to make things not seem so quiet. "You didn't have to come in here you know?"

This time he let out a light laugh. So he did hear me. "You telling me you would just willingly die and be okay with the fact that I was your only hope and did nothing to save you?"

"Well if I was dead there wouldn't have been much of an argument to be made, now would there?"

"I suppose not." He mumbled, lifting his head to the sky. I did the same. We both knew the test had gotten worse since he came in, things looking more like a scene in a horror film than actual life. And who knew how much time had passed since he arrived? Maybe an hour, probably not. "He loves you, you know that?"

"Huh?" I slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"Jack." He said. His voice dropped a bit, a frown almost sticking on his face. "You should have seen him, Lexi. He wouldn't leave your hospital bed for days. And he practically beat the crap out of one of the police officers when they pried him away from you. He also had a bit of foul language, if you know what I mean, spewing from his mouth."

"Yeah," a smile etched its way onto my face. "Wait, how could it be days? Exactly how long have I been in here?" I raised an eyebrow again, confused. 

"Two weeks. Probably longer now." He answered simply.

"But it doesn't seem like-"

He cut me off, getting straight to the point. "Well obviously it has been. I wouldn't lie about something as stupid as that." Then he tensed a bit. "Not that it's not important, it's just not our main priority."

I only nodded, again biting my lip. "So, how exactly does that work?" He turned in my direction, waiting for me to elaborate. "The two weeks thing."

"Oh," he said, looking like he had a duh moment. "Natalie said it had something to do with the test dying; it throws a lot of things off. It may seem like just a little over a day, but for us, it's longer."

"Isn't that kinda the opposite of a dream?" I asked. "What with the whole I can dream a dream that takes place in days amount of time and only a few hours have passed in real life thing."

"Please don't make my brain hurt." He laughed.

"What? It's just a question."

"And one that sounds too scientific for me to properly answer." He muttered. "Now if you don't mind, could we not take part in small talk and maybe do something useful instead?"

"Wow, bossy." I snarled. "Just because you thought you ruled in here before doesn't mean you can boss me around now."

"Not like you even listened before." He joked.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But you are a major butt faced moron; me not listening to you is a given."

"Ha, don't you mean I was a major butt faced moron?" He questioned.

"No." I tried to keep a straight face. It didn't last long.

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John could easily be classified as bipolar.

One minute we're talking, sitting near the lake and watching the murky water stay un-moving no matter how many rocks or loose twigs we throw in it. We would be enjoying the other's company and then it would blow up in my face somehow. 

Because the next minute he could be storming off, full of rage, most likely directed at me, and disappearing for an hour while I try to figure out what I did wrong.

Apparently breathing puts me on John's hit list if done at the wrong time.

Perhaps he's PMS-ing.

But his fit of anger seriously came at the wrong time. He was telling me about the paper we found awhile back, and about how he finally confronted Natalie and his parents about it when I got sent back in here.

John said that they told him it was for protection, to keep information from Reid. Had they put the list on a computer, Reid, the apparently evil genius hacker, he would have found it. At least me and John are on the good side, not planning to use a confusing list for evil doing.

And also, like we had already assumed, the list contained disrupters on one side--being the ones who remembered the test, and those who weren't on the other side.

Which led me to believe that Jack might be a disrupter, or at least a tiny bit of one since he did eventually remember.

I didn't voice this to John though; he still seemed to be lost in his own world. One that in the minutes after would not have me in it, whether it be in his own world or this fake one.

So instead of letting my thoughts stick to that information, I just decided to make my way back to the memory wipe tree instead of letting his absense linger around me, trying to focus on the fact that Reid was in jail, as was Jack. And that Reid's boss was probably the person controlling all that would happen to me in here now. That they were probably the person who sent the flying monster that John had to save me from earlier, not Reid. And I didn't even want to think about what Natalie might have gone through to get John in here.

My mind is a strange place, one full of theories undiscovered and thoughts needed to be confirmed. It races at a mile a minute, waiting for the moment it can finally go at a normal speed again.

I have to try to always be a step ahead. Thinking a step ahead. Destroy this stupid system and finally get to that part in the story where the main character lives happily ever after.

But I have my moments where I think that won't be my outcome.

Not when this is my second time flirting with death.

Not when my every move will also determine the fate of other people.

Jack. Annie. Danny. John. Caleb.

Luke.

What has happened, or could happen, will be based on me. In one way or another, everything can be traced back to me.

Natalie has continuously put her life on the line for me.

My friends are in danger because of me.

Luke and two others are dead because Reid wanted to get back at me.

John is in here, this torturous prison, this horrible place of doom, all to to risk his life. For me.

The test has made me much more than the teen I was before, laughing and having no care in the world, only having fun with her friends.

I ran my hand through my hair, touching the back of my neck as I did and rubbing there. Leaning back against the trunk of the memory wipe tree, my eyes became fixed on the leaves, still such a vibrant blue, so beautiful. Compared to the scenery around it, they were a happy enough sight to make me smile a bit brighter.

My old drawing on the ground of Jack helped with that as well. Especially when I turned to look at it, remembering again and again the day I drew it and how it had ended. 

The crunching of dead grass behind me made me snap my head back from natural instinct, only to find John holding a pile of sticks, if they can even be called that because of how glitched they are, and for me to notice I had been too distracted to realize the sky had gotten even darker. Night was approaching. And the temperature at dropped, dramatically.

I hugged my knees to my chest as John dropped his pile next to my feet, ignoring and discarding the picture of his brother, only to kneel next to me and begin fumbling with the wood.

"Whatcha got there?" I said, half hoping I would see him laugh by the tone I used.

"It's way too easy to be sarcastic around you. Especially when you ask questions like that." He answered, easing past actually answering the question I already knew the answer to.

"Well," I scoffed, gasping and watching as a smirk played on his lips. "excuse me."

"Whatever, Lexi." He continued to smile, and i'm not gonna lie; it made me smile too. 

After, he grabbed the sticks again, no longer actually fumbling with them but rubbing two together. 

'You're making a fire, aren't you?" I asked. Again, he kind of just gave me a look like I shouldn't even be asking and then continued. "That's actually smart."

"Thanks. I do have my moments don't I?" He still grinned and carried on, the tiniest bit of smoke coming from it.

"What I mean is I can't believe we never thought of it before now." I told him, which caused him to turn yet again and give me another look. "What? It's not my fault we never built a fire before."

"Ha, maybe you never built a fire the last time we were in here, but I did. Multiple times actually." He said. "Little Alexandria must have been focused on lover boy more than she thought; you didn't even notice."

"Don't even, alright." I said. "Don't call Jack lover boy. It's weird."

Right then, a little fire was made. "Oh yeah, that's what I call a fire."

"Ooh, super awesome fire." I teased. "It's so small, all I have to do is spit and it would go out, John."

"Like you could do better." He shot back. "Besides, it would be better. There just not much to work with in case you really hadn't noticed." He gestured around the test.

"I just don't understand why you were smart enough to made one and Jack wasn't." It seemed to be filling my mind now.

"One, offensive." He pointed out, holding up a finger. "Two, did it ever cross your mind that traumatic experience, I don't know, a fire killing the only family he has maybe, would put a little fear of fire in his head?'

"I didn't think of that." I admitted, grabbing a strand of my hair. "Do you think that's the reason; he was just avoiding it?"

He nodded. "I think the same guy who refused to make a fire last year when our family went camping is still afraid. But who can blame him, everyone has a fear. And given that burn on his back, I would be afraid too."

"Yeah, i've seen that burn. The first day in here, when he introduced himself, he was shirtless obviously and I saw it."

"It's gotten a lot better over the years though." He told me. "When my parents first adopted him, it was horrible; all blotchy and gross." John cringed. "But I guess time and patience is the best cure."

I smiled, and then remembered something. "Oh yeah, by the way. Since we're kinda on the topic. There is something I should probably mention."

"First, get closer to the fire. It's freaking cold." John demanded. "Second, is it more important than us working together to get out of this?"

I did as he said, the little fire being much warmer than the spot where I was. "I don't know. Is the information about Jack's mom actually being alive important?"

John stared when I said that. "She's.....what?"

"Sit back and relax, John." I said. "It's story time."

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Sorry for the super duper late update. Like, it's been weeks. But um, hope you like it :)

(this chapter has not been proofread or edited. will do so later)