The Countdown

Chapter Six~ Why is Abby so Dang Lucky?

"I can't believe it!" Abby huffed, Her good mood completely ruined. "Of course it had to be torn down! Of course! Because nothing can be easy afterall! Silly me!"

I knew Abigail was mad, but it didn't mean she had to take it out on me.
The brisk weather had done nothing to help the mood. Since Abby had gotten to my house this morning the temperature had done nothing but drop, and grey clouds had blotted out the recently cheerful sun.

It was as if the weather sensed the drasticity of our situation and was trying to dramaticize it.
With a little research we discovered that before the hospital had been torn down the Clocks had have been moved. After all, they supposedly could be used as bombs.

There was another hospital near the old one's previous location and Abigail thought it would be a good place to start.

"Saint Thompson Emergency Healthcare Facility," I read from the large purple sign hanging from the white cookie-cutter building that was undoubtedly some sort of doctor's office.

As I spoke my breath fogged in front of me, and I imagined they were tendrils of my life slipping away. curling. dancing. thrilled to be free of this awkward teenage body, before dissolving into the atmosphere.

We crept through the automatic doors and into the large waiting room, the sharp scent of antiseptic burning my nostrils.

The place was practically deserted, as were most hospitals.
Years ago, being a doctor was an extremely high paying job. Now they had practically no business at all.

Nowadays, most illnesses could be cured with over the counter remedies, so the primary use of hospitals were for childbirth.

Dread tumbled about my stomach.

we were running out of time and if we struck out again, I feared this would be a dead end. Literally.

Guilt washed over me as I realized how selfish I was being.

I had reason to worry about my Clock, but there was Abby, risking everything to save me, when I hadn't once considered that her death might be as untimely as mine.

"Abby?" I started. Even though know one was there I felt the need to whisper. "Do you have any idea when your clock stops?"

She looked surprised, as if my concern was the last thing she expected.

That did nothing to ease my guilt.

"Yeah. It stops when I'm eighty seven," she shrugged.

Of course.

Abigail had life handed to her.

She was smart, pretty, athletic, funny, and would live to a ripe old age.

I, on the other hand, get to live a very short, average, and not very successful fifteen years.

She looked at me and placed on hand on my shoulder. "And you're going to live just as long. if not longer. I promise."