How I ran away

How I fell

I should be dead. I would’ve been. If Twelve hadn’t saved me. Second time playing hero for me. he jumped at her, knocking her arm off aim. She missed and shot beside me. the man with one hand. He cried out and was dead in seconds.

                Her eyes are wild now. She pushes Twelve off and takes aim.

                “Enough!” Jack had the courage to say. Although he is definitely frightened. Terribly afraid. It’s obvious by the way his voice quivers as he tries to look strong.

                “You can't know that for sure, Em.” He says to the woman. Em. Is it an initial? Her full name? A nickname?

                “Twelve knows!” she says.

                “Who says he’ll say?”

                I look at Twelve. It looks like he would say. From his position on the floor. He looks weak. by Em’s feet.

                “Take them,” the man says, “both.”

                My leg has numbed off. When the man motions for me to come I don’t object. I simply can't move.

                “C’mon, move!” he says. He casts a timid eye back to where the boss stands.

                “I can’t,” I say, feeling like an idiot, stating the obvious. “My leg,” I explain when he just stares.

                He nods and crouches down to lift me up. It burns. Kills. He could be gentler. I make it my business not to show the pain. But ow, it hurts.

He’s taking extra care to keep his eyes on me. to not let them wander… his friend is dead on the ground. He is scared he will go the same way. one step out of line and a bullet is in his head, I bet.

                He cradles me in his arms like a baby. I can't fight it. I lose what little dignity I have.

                Twelve at least doesn’t follow my example. He sets his own.

                “Get away from me!” he yells as a man nears him with rope to tie his arms.

                The one in charge takes care of him, “Stop it, go or…”

                ‘Or what?” Twelve challenged. The man took a step closer to me and withdrew a small gun from his pocket. Much like the one-handed man had. He presses the cold barrel to my thigh. That is enough for Twelve. His eyes go down in surrender and his shoulders droop.

                “No!” I yell at him. My voice comes out in a croak. I shouldn’t speak. But I do. “Run, Twelve. Run!”

                He doesn’t.

                Em watches everything. I see her staring at me out of the corner of her eye. She has so much control and poise. I am still the baby being held in someone’s arms.

                The helicopter is still in the center. We head away from it. I don’t know how they knew we would be here. How they managed the ambush. And I’ll never find out.

                Twelve stopped his struggles but they still had two people on him to tie him up. They tied his hands behind his back. The legs, they left. So he could walk.

                I was hoping they would forget. No chance. Another person came to me and bound my arms tightly together. Her face is emotionless and ugly. And she knows how to tie a tight knot. She doesn’t do my legs because of the bullet wound. The one that keeps bleeding. The one nobody does anything about. The one that hurts. The one that would soon kill me. That slowly drains my body of blood.