Great Escape

Kevin was returned to his chamber, unaware of the decision being made about his fate. As he lay down, exhausted and demoralized, he couldn't shake the feeling that something important was just out of reach, something he couldn't grasp.

In the conference room, Number 1 listened as 405 and 701 delivered their report.

"After months of torture and rigorous training, Kevin has shown no signs of awakening," 405 concluded. "He's reached his peak as an ordinary human. We recommend reassignment or termination, as per protocol."

Number 1 was silent for a moment, considering. "Very well. Proceed with termination immediately. Ensure it's done quickly."

701 spoke up, "If I may interject, the subject has shown signs of being very capable of holding his ground against multiple enemies. If we terminate him now, we'll lose an asset."

Intrigued, Number 1 asked, "How good is he?"

"Here's footage of our latest report," 701 said, bringing up a video on the screen. "As seen here, he killed 20 men without breaking a sweat. He even managed to punch one of them across the battlefield, breaking the guy's spine in the process, but nothing more."

"Very well, then," Number 1 decided. "Take him to the holding cell. I want him clothed and well-fed for a new kind of test."

"What kind of test?" 405 asked.

"A need-to-know basis," Number 1 replied curtly.

405 and 701 exchanged glances, then nodded. "Understood."

That night, Kevin was abruptly taken from his chamber and escorted down a dimly lit corridor. He was thrown into a dark, narrow cell, the heavy door reinforced with steel. The air was damp and suffocating, filled with the scent of decay and despair. As he lay on the cold, hard ground, exhaustion overcame him, and he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to searing pain in his hands and arms, his fingers bleeding. Despite the agony, he looked around, trying to find a weak point to start digging. Something told him this was just the beginning of his new torture. With every ounce of his being, he began punching the walls as hard as he could, denting them slowly.

Hours passed, but Kevin pushed on. Then the lights went out, but it didn't stop him. As his fists collided with the wall, blood soaked his hands and smeared the walls with each attempt, the flesh eaten away with each punch. His muscles burned with exertion, and he could feel something awakening within him—a primal force that refused to submit.

He thought of all the times they torture him, all the pain he had to endure, and it fueled his rage. With a final, mighty heave, he broke through the wall. Now he had another problem: to dig his way out with nothing but his bare hands. He didn't let that deject him. He pushed on, adrenaline keeping him from collapsing due to fatigue and loss of blood.

Soon, an alarm blared. 405 and 701 exchanged a look of horror. When Kevin heard it, he dug faster and faster. After a minute passed, he broke through, only to find himself in a densely populated forest. Nothing but trees for miles.

"He's escaped," 701 whispered. "He's finally awakened."

Number 1's expression darkened. "Find him. No matter what it takes, bring him back. Alive."

Kevin covered his blood soaked hands before looking in many directions, then started running his lungs burned, his legs felt like heavy with each step, but he kept running. The dense foliage of the jungle swallowed him, branches scratching at his skin and leaves whipping against his face. He could hear the distant shouts of his pursuers.

They saw a blood trail before one of them shouted, "This way! We must capture him!"

His hands, wrapped in blood-soaked cloth, ached with every movement. He stumbled over roots and ducked under low-hanging vines, coughing up blood with each breath he took. Each breath itched at his throat, but he didn't stop. He didn't look back. He just pushed on.

His mind started to betray him as he hallucinated, the exhaustion and pain playing tricks on his senses. Suddenly, he saw his friend Dexter standing in front of him.

"Dexter?" Kevin's voice was hoarse, almost a whisper.

"Kev, you have to keep going," Dexter urged, his voice firm but kind. "You can't stop now. Not after everything."

"I… I don't think I can," Kevin gasped, collapsing to his knees. His hands throbbed with agony, the makeshift bandages now soaked through with blood.

"Yes, you can," Dexter insisted, kneeling beside him. "Think of everything they've taken from you, think of the joy they took from others. You have to push on, for your mothers sake, for all of us."

Kevin nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I'll try. I'll keep going."

Dexter's image faded, leaving Kevin alone in the dark jungle once more. But the memory of his friend's words gave him the strength to rise to his feet and continue running.

Hours passed and the sun rose, the jungle seeming endless. Kevin finally slowed down as exhaustion set in. Each step made him hallucinate something different, when his mother appeared, he begged her, "Mom, please give me the strength to keep going," he said, remembering the way they killed her. Then she faded and he pushed on with trembling legs. "I can't… go… on." tears streaming down his check.

The shouts were closer now. He could hear them yelling at one another.

"We're closing in, come on!"

"They're getting closer. I can't let them take me back. I won't let them," he thought, panic gripping him.

Suddenly, the dense jungle began to thin. Kevin's heart pounded with hope. He could hear the distant roar of waves crashing against the shore. Summoning the last of his strength, he pushed on and took a leap off the cliff, landing in the sea. The impact injured him further, the cold shock of the water hitting him like a brick wall. As he looked up at the mountain, he saw his pursuers.

Laying there, floating in the water, he finally allowed himself to relax for a moment before closing his eyes. The saltwater stung his open wounds, but he welcomed the pain—it meant he was still alive.

"Where did he go?" one of his pursuers asked.

"I don't know. We were on him. He just disappeared."

"Did he jump?"

"With his injuries, I doubt that."

"We have to go back and report this."