𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 48

Suicide Mission
2031
Aidan

As if Suraya jinxed it, the rain does indeed stop the next day, just in time for our next mission.
Which is a lucky win, to be honest.
I throw on my - this time again sage green - shirt and combat pants, then I head to the General's office. It's odd, that Suraya only had a mission with me before, but I assume Sina and she know each other longer than she knows me, which makes me also assume they both can get along on the mission.
This time, the general circles another area for us to tackle within the area currently under supervision. "Same as last time," he states, "but Houston won't be of service today."
Why not?
Sina crosses her arms. "Why not, did something happen to him?"
The General eyes her from across the table and almost mimics her stance by also crossing his arms. "Nothing serious, but I'm not authorized to mention any incidents."
She scoffs. "Sir, you're the General, if anyone is auth-"
"No, that's alright, we'll manage without Houston," I cut Sina off before she could lash out at our Superior. Suraya nods and gently grabs her hand, pulling her back. I can tell three things by Sina's eyes - she cried, she is tired, and she is also ready to lunge at the General. All three things I can understand.
"Same thing as usual -" the General mutters, unfazed by her comment, "If anything goes wrong, you return. No evacuation vehicles this time, they are under maintenance."
So, we are practically fucked.

"Okay," Suraya sighs as we make our way to the storage unit to gather our supplies, "if I got that right, we are sent out to scour through a few houses once again to find survivors, without an evacuation vehicle and no radio, once again. Not to mention, no K9 this time."
"And no map, either," Sina adds and shakes her head in disappointment.
I shrug. "I think we are practically sent out to fail. Just a gut feeling."
They both sigh at my retort.
A suicide mission.

I look at myself in the blurred and matted mirror hung up in the bedroom of the first house. The dark circles under my eyes have somewhat vanished, but my petrified expression, I almost fear, has seared itself on my face for presumably forever.
The shattered edge of the mirror causes the light of my flashlight to bounce off of it like specks of glitter.
After hearing a sigh from Sina behind me, I turn around to see her studying me. "We should move," she says.
I bite my lip. Ever since Jason disappeared and later was declared dead - something I vividly witnessed, too - it's almost as if Sina is holding a grudge against me.
I get it. Someone died, someone very dear to her, possibly just as hurtful to her as I mourned my mother's death.
So I won't speak against her this time.

Without Houston on a mission, it's almost tiring to walk through the streets.
Suraya also doesn't have any useless fun facts ready this time.
Sina keeps a distance between herself and me, which makes my heart twinge with a mix of guilt and hurt.
Our walk to the next house is silent.
"Special forces!" I call out and knock on the front door. No movement, no noise. It would be almost surprising if it were the opposite.
The door is unlocked.
"Should we-"
"Yes, we should," Sina harshly cuts me off and pushes past me. I don't get her behavior right now.

When I enter after Suraya, Sina is far gone, possibly on the upper floor.
My flashlight flickers when I turn it on.
When I take a quick look through the layout of the first floor, I find a kitchen, living room and a garage with an almost spotlessly polished car, but no survivors.
Why is Sina not talking to me?
I need to set things right with her.
The steps of the stairs groan under my weight when I walk upstairs, in the hopes of finding her.
We can talk about it.
The stairs lead to a hallway, from which four doors separate.
I choose the first, on my right. It's only a bathroom where I don't find anything essential.
Eventually, I find Sina in the third room, clutching her shoulder with a pained look on her face.
Is she injured? Since when?
"What happened?" I push through the door and walk up to her, to which she backs away.
"Whoa- let me just take a look," I lower my voice to a gentle tone. Sina shakes her head and looks at me, almost angry.
I raise a brow. "Why not?"
"Because I fucking had it with your bullshit," she hisses and tears a piece from her military jacket with her pocket knife to tie around her injury.
"This whole I-don't-need-your-help-thing is bullshit, you know that," I sigh and study her attempt at patching herself up. Sure, she has participated in a first aid class, I didn't, but even I can see that she is being stupid with this right now.
"No, it's not, I'm being reasonable!" Sina exclaims.
I throw up my hands in frustration. "How is that reasonable? You're cutting off circulation."
Sina binds the piece of fabric around her arm and pulls tight, totally unfazed as if I didn't even exist and my words weren't even said. A grunt escapes from her lips. "I don't need your help. And you should know why, Aidan."
I frown. "No, I do not."
Is it because of Jason?
Her hands tighten more and more around the two ends of the fabric.
"Then don't bother me, for God's sake."
With every word she pulls tighter, to a point where I am afraid that she will indeed cut off circulation.
"Stop."
She shakes her head and drops her backpack.
"Sina, stop. What in the fuck are you saying?" I ask and fiddle with my dog tags.
And suddenly, I see all the effort she has made to keep up a strong facade crumble.
"Hey, come on, let me take a look," I mumble and walk over to Sina to inspect her arm.
"Aidan, please..."
I look at her. "What is it-"
My fingers fumble with the tight knot she made, in an attempt to loosen it.
"He's gone..." she whispers when I make a short process and grab her pocket knife to cut the fabric.
Jason. She means Jason.
"I'm sorry," I mumble and gently remove the fabric piece now sticking to her wound.
"You're not," Sina suddenly hisses and backs away from me with a look of distress on her face. "It's your fault after all."
eeekkkk... your fault...
I shake my head to snap out of it. "That - him running away - was not my decision," I say firmly and rummage in the pocket of my cargo pants where I keep first aid essentials.
Sina bares her teeth and ruffles through her hair now slowly coming apart from her braid. "You forced it. Alone for that I should give you hell!"
My eyes widen and I stop looking for a bandage. "Why would you say that?"
Momentarily, I notice Suraya standing in the doorway, I want to tell her to leave, but Sina suddenly walks up to me, closer, closer. And closer. Her finger pokes into my chest, I can feel her sharp nail through the fabric of my shirt. "I for fuck's sake didn't trigger it and besides me, you are the only one he spoke to. That says a lot."
"Sina," Suraya warns from the doorway, "You should stop it."
"No, I've only just begun."
I should shake her shoulders to knock some sense into her.
Suraya shoots me a confused gaze that I can only return.
"Sina, let me help you. I'm your friend, like you said, what is going on?" I sigh, sounding almost desperate.
Her brows furrow and she mumbles a few words that sound like hushed curses under her breath, shoulders her backpack and heads to Suraya.
"I'm your friend, you said it, I told you what happened in my past, even if only briefly, so I'd expect you to do the same!" I call after her.
"Oh, do you now?!"
Suddenly, everything happens too fast. Her gun is in her hands, her finger on the trigger.
This time, a horrifying expression is painted into her eyes. Not one of anger or fury, one of disappointment, and that is more terrifying than anything I have ever seen.
A shiver crawls down my back, this time my memories from my father's suicide are silent.
Sina has a death grip on the gun. Although only one-handed, not using the second arm for support, the recoil would hit like hell. Maybe not for me, but for her.
My life doesn't matter. Not right now.
I feel betrayed, almost. It feels like the knife she said she'd use to protect me is suddenly stabbed into my back by her cold hands. It's as if she's cutting out my heart with a dull blade.
"Sina, please, stop it-!" Suraya calls from the doorway. She doesn't move. Neither do I.
No one can dodge a bullet being fired. I'd await the same fate my mother and father suffered. Falling as a sacrifice to a gun. And that, for some reason, feels more calming to my mind than having to suffer a slow death like Jason perhaps did. A gun doesn't scare me anymore.
My eyes lock with Sina's. Her grip starts to tremble when I see tears bubble up, brimming her eyelashes.
"Do it," I mumble, holding up my hands. Not in defense, in surrender. When the first tears fall, she removes her finger from the trigger, yet leaving the gun still extended, pointed in my direction.
"I'd not hold a grudge if you did. You can send a bullet into my heart and I'd die knowing I meant something to you," I whisper into the space separating us.
Sina is right, I quite possibly did trigger that Jason left.
"Your bullet could scar me and I'd know I'll carry one in your name on me. You know."
A choked sob escapes from Sina's lips when I walk further and grab her gun, pressing it into my heart. "You just have to do it if it makes you feel better."
"No..." she winces and forces the gun away from my grip. "No, it wouldn't."
"Sina..." Suraya now walks from the doorway to wrap her arms around her waist, dragging her away from me.
"Run, Aidan."
These words make me freeze in my spot.
What?
"Run, because I might change my mind." Sina shoots me a glance full of sadness.
A second emotion slowly bleeds into it - hatred.
I get it, losing Jason was probably the same pain for her that I felt when I lost my sister. And my mother.
My voice turns cold when I turn to face her once last before I push past her and Suraya in the doorway to leave. "I hope you will be safe. If you change your mind, however, it's a farewell," I mutter.