The City of the Dead

Chapter 12

Everything seemed to freeze, except the bullet that tore through the air. It seemed to come towards me in slow motion, pushing every particle out of the way as it flew straight for my heart. Then, suddenly, the world began to turn, and the next thing I knew, everything was sideways as my arm scraped against the scratchy wood floor. 

At first I thought I was dying, as every sound was muffled; there were no odours in the air; and all the only image I could see was the bullet racing towards me, again and again.  

Thump, thump. Were those footsteps? With the sound, everything became clear again and I realized I wasn't dead. For that matter I wasn't even in pain. I quickly rolled over and jumped to my feet. After glancing around the room, the reasoning behind my lack of pain was evident. The answer lay at my feet: Onix. He lay on the ground, blood pouring out of a wound just above his heart. 

My heart raced, trying to imagine how he was hit. I was the one who should've been in his place. I was the one who should've been bleeding to death. My head whipped around searching for Roger, and found him charging at me, his gun once again raised.

My mind was gravitating towards helping Onix, but my body wouldn't let me. My muscles took over, and began to take me closer to Roger. I ducked just in time as I heard another shot from the gun, took my chance, and jumped him.

I hit him square in the chest and he staggered back, shooting bullets in every direction. I tried to angle us so that his body was a shield for me, so if he aimed my way he would shoot himself. Unfortunately, that meant when we hit the ground he was on top of me. His hip bone dug into my stomach and I gasped for breath.

Ignoring the sound of my own wheezing breaths, my hands reached for the gun, my fingers wrapping around the cool rusted metal. I tightened my grip and yanked on it as hard as I could, trying to free the gun from Roger's solid grip.

He continued to hold on and I rolled out from underneath him, forcing my right elbow into his nose as hard as I could.

All I saw were his eyes, red with rage. I shuddered, wishing I could just curl up in a ball and figure everything out, but there was no solution. If I took my eyes off his, it would be the end.

I watched in astonishment as his tan skin began to morph into something that was very unlike his own. White, shriveled up skin replaced his normally dark and sun kissed skin. His hair began to turn whiter with each passing second, until it slowly began to detach itself from his head.

A scream escaped from my throat as the blood that had been pouring out of his nose came to a sudden stop, and his nose seemed to morph into his face until there was nothing left.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my left arm, and looked down to see blood; my blood. It was pouring from my arm and as I watched the first drop hit the floor. How had that happened?

My left arm wouldn't hold much longer. I needed to end it. I reached out for the gun again, but stopped when I saw Roger's hands. In place of his fingernails were claws, looking metallic as they glittered in the small bit of light that peeked through the cracks of the ship. That's what had happened to my arm, he had cut me.

I saw his finger twitch and the gun went off again. I felt the wind rush by my leg, the bullet missing by only an inch. I was lucky, but my luck was bound to run out soon.

Before I knew it, the thing that used to be Roger twisted around and shoved me hard into the floor. He followed his attack, by jumping on top of me and sat on my stomach, pointing the gun at my head. He seemed to growl with each breath, as if it was his way of breathing.

"I've got you now," he growled in a higher voice than normal. "You stupid girl." He spat on my face, but I glared at him unflinchingly. "You thought you could escape me?"