Felix laid on his back on the floor of his 'room,' staring at the ceiling.  He didn't feel like reading... or working out.  He had all day to do either of those two things and right now, he was just wondering yet again when he was going to get out of here and make sure Will was alright.  It was going to take a long time to get to Maine, but he knew for sure that whatever was going on had to be serious.  They would have been let out if it wasn't.  Their small town, despite being up north, was full of hunters and gun nuts.  Will wasn't too bad himself, even if he was more of a bowman - they'd probably hole up somewhere and have a hell of a party until everything died down.  That's just the way things went back home - no reason for anything to get in the way of that, right?

No, Renault knew better.  He'd seen more than enough of his share of 'it's the perfect plan' go wrong to know that it was naive.  He just needed a place to start and from there, he'd track him down.  Or, everything was under control and they were just waiting until it was fully contained and eradicated to let them go.  Whatever was happening, it couldn't go on for much longer.

[i]Click.[/i]

Felix bolted upright...  Was that what he thought it was?  He furrowed his brow and climbed to his feet.  He wore a pair of dark jeans and an underarmour shirt with a tan rigger's belt and his combat boots.  Slowly, he approached his door, pressing his shoulder to it briefly.  It instantly gave way to his weight as he started to press and finally he shoved it open, looking up and down the halls.  He was toward the end, so his room actually opened up early.  "What? No greeting party?"  He asked, looking around.

"No time, Renault.  Shut your trap, hit the armory, gear up."  Was that one of the guards?  It was hard to tell as they shouted and every room started to open with tentative heads poking out.  Chaos ensued, but he rushed to the room at the end of the hall where he was directed.  Several people were grabbing for anything and everything they could.  He reached for a tactical vest and clipped all of the straps into place around him before attaching a holster and an M9 to it.  He grabbed a sheathed K-BAR, smirking at the government's choice on weapons for their CDC armory.  Never disappointing, he decided.  Finally, he took hold of one of the M4A1 Carbines on the wall and placed the strap over his neck, holding it tightly to his chest.  He pulled a couple of extra magazines from the ammo boxes in the cabinets under the weaponry - these idiots really had no idea how to raid a fucking [i]armory[/i] and slipped them into his tac-vest.

"Stop grabbing for anything you dimwits!"  He shouted as somebody tried to push past him for one of the shotguns.  He pushed the nerdy kid aside, "If you don't know how it works, don't grab it..."  He muttered - god damn, did they just grab a bunch of computer junkies and throw them into this place?  Hell of a lot of good that did them.  Felix returned to his work, finally grabbing a green, canvas ammo bag and tossing a couple of boxes inside.  He zipped it shut and threw the straps over his shoulders.

He was just about to start helping move the group and equip the others to get them upstairs when he realized he hadn't grabbed [i]anything[/i] from his room.  The soldier dashed back to his cell, snatched a pair of sunglasses and stuffed a few articles of clothing into the backpack with a grin, [i]fuckers told me I was crazy 'cause I wanted a pair in confinement... who's laughing now?[/i]  - The answer still wasn't him.

He stepped back out of his room and things were getting worse.  Some people were pushing others up the stairs and each of them was fending for themselves.  He heard the shouts from the lower level and started backing toward the stairs, rifle raised, "KEEP THE LINE MOVING!"  He shouted behind him, "Hasn't anybody done a fire drill before..?  Geeze..."  He muttered under his breath.  The sound of shattering glass filled the hall as a bottle broke - who the [i]fuck[/i] cooked up a molotov and threw it [i]in the building?[/i]  It took a second to process the real reason they were let out - the CDC was under siege, not ready to release them.  His eyes remained fixed on the sights of his weapon as he moved backwards up the stairs with the throngs of people...  He didn't want to waste a shot here, and luckily they were still a ways behind him.  He had to get out of this building and find Will...  The man finally made it to the roof, relatively quickly too as people parted for the man who looked to know what the hell he was doing.  Times like this, everybody needed a leader.  He didn't want to be it, but it was certainly convenient.

What were they doing with a helicopter up here?  Was his first honest thought.  His second was which seat to take.  He settled on one by the door and, much to his dismay, only a few feet behind him was that nerdy kid from the armory.  Well, they had to save who they could.  He helped pull the runt into the chopper and pushed him into a seat, "Strap in, kid...  You're in for a hell of a ride." 

He smacked the side of the chopper so the pilot could hear it and shouted over the whirring blades, "We're full!  She can't carry anybody else, we're gonna have to make a second trip," He said - the pilots and he both knew there was no second trip, but few others in that helo would understand the real gravity of it.

Metal twisted, turned, rolled and folded into itself as they hit the clearing, sliding through the dirt only to stop at the treeline.  Felix groaned, rubbing his head as he came to, several feet deeper in the woods, against a tree.  Apparently, something in the belts snaps, because he was leaning against a tree with blurring vision of the smoking crash site, rubbing his forehead.  He didn't want to move... not yet.  He just listened for the sounds of other survivors or approaching attackers.  Not even out of that compound for ten minutes and he could already feel it: the world had gone to Hell.