Cold

Escape

I dreamt about the man as I slept. He was taunting me, but part of me didn't want to kill him. I didn't understand why, but it was as if there was a lot more to this man  than I could remember. There was a connection, I was sure of it.  We were alone in a school, lockers lined the walls. Black lockers... The only thing he said was, "Remember who you are"

A deafening boom woke me up. Snapping to my feet and rummaging for my M9, I unlock the door. Men were flowing in from all directions, weapons all pointed towards the exit. Michael came rushing to my door.

"They've found us! I don't know how, but they've found us! Quickly, you must get away while you still can. Take this," he handed me an M4A1, "Keep it, Use it. Get out of here!" I rush back to get my pack,  and I'm running out. Behind me, screams echo from the corridor.

Michael shook me, "There's a back way in. They probably know about it by now, but it's your only hope. Take the hallway as far as you can go, then make a left. The ladder will be in front of you. Quickly, don't look back!"

I gave him one last look of thanks, and I was on my way. Another explosion sounded from behind, but I couldn't look back. I had a long way to go, it seemed, and it wasn't going to be easy. 

Ahead of my position, the enemy had made their way into the various rooms. They were cleaning them out! I crouched down and took aim, trigger finger itchy. The first one saw me and raised his gun. I fired, and alerted the rest to my position. Slowly advancing forward, I fired my weapon in small bursts, taking down those bastards mercilessly. They soon learned, and jumped into the various rooms for cover. I took my own room in response, and as luck would have it, grenades were available. Throwing out some suppressive fire, I took the opportunity to scoop as many as I could into my pack. Flash, concussion and fragmentations, the lot of them. I took a concussion out and lobbed it as far as I could. A small bang echoed throughout the halls, and I quickly advanced to take advantage of their vulnerabilities. I had to vault over some of the bodies, for they had piled up much too high for me to simply step over. Finally, I made it to the end of the hall, but in my excitement, I forgot which way to turn. I turned right, and was greeted by several angry Chinamen. Using a frag, I lobbed it off the walls. I quickly about faced and made a beeline for the ladder. Ricochets were ringing all around me, I'm surprised none hit their mark. I climbed the ladder as quickly as I could, and above me a manhole lid was secured. I hit it as hard as I could, but it wouldn't budge. Taking the butt of my rifle, I finally managed to lodge it loose, and I was out. And there was Steve.

"Hiya, girlie."

Before I could respond, he kicked me over to the side. 

"I knew I would run into you again. I just knew it."

Robert came around the corner. "Stevie, what's going on? Where were you?"

Steve didn't say a word. Instead, he drew his gun and shot Robert in the chest. I reached for my gun, but Steve kicked it away before sauntering over to Robert.

"Steve, *cough* what have you done?"

"Oh Robbie Robbie Robbie, you shouldn't have stopped me from getting what I want. You and everybody else in that wretched hole. But now I win, I get my way with the girl, I get immunity with the Commies, and I get away with it too." He raised his gun, and pointed it at Robert. "Too bad, I wish you could see what I am gonna do to her."

"No!" *blam* 

Robert's lifeless body slumped over on the pavement. His attention now fixed on me, he dropped his gun and hovered over me. "Take off your clothes, girlie."

I got up to run, but he was too fast. He tackled me right there, and ripped off my shirt. My pack landed two feet to the right of me. If I could just reach it...

"Your pants now, bitch." I took this opportunity to kick him back. "Oh you're gunna wish you never did that!" My hand felt the grip of the .44. I swung it around and looked away as I fired. Everything just seemed to stop then. I looked up at my would-be rapist, a fresh hole buried between his eyes. He slumped on top of me, motionless. I scrambled out from underneath him, desperate to get back on my feet. The gun still in hand, I couldn't help but think how ironic that was; I had a magnum for protection. With a cold grunt, I fired one last shot into him, confirming the kill. It was a waste, of course, but I needed it. Picking up the rifle and my pack, I felt a chill coming from the November night. My shirt lay in shreds on the ground, but I had no time. I had to get out of the area. Sirens sounded all around me, the enemy was approaching. Having no idea where I was, I ran south in hopes that I'd run somewhere safer. Finally, I came to a brick building that had long been abandoned, and took refuge inside. The sign welcomed me to Occupational Therapy. 

Oh, the irony.