Runner

Chapter Two

The tunnels were still drowned in darkness, the buzz of generators, and shuffle of everyday routine, echoing in the walls. I raced through them, splashing through puddles and ducking under splayed wires and pipes. I felt my heart beating against my chest, pounding, racing with fear.

Arriving at the entrance, I slammed the doors open, inhaling the cool night: sun setting, temperature dropping, and breeze calming. All I could hear was the rise and fall of my laboured breathing, but then so much more beyond that, sounds that lurked only in my nightmares. Demons that would revisit me every night.

The edge of the alleyway revealed black, industrial military trucks, roaring towards me. Their passengers, hanging off the sides in their equally black uniforms, scouring the deserted streets for reason to unload. Something resembling a whimper escaped from my throat as I took in the petrifying sight.

And, so, I ran.

I trailed through the scum covered back streets, lean-to shanties blocking my path. Movement came over the neighbourhood like a wave. People realising what was happening only seconds after I had passed through their streets. Thundering footsteps, rummaging, shouting, crying, escaping, and then the gun fire.

I was at the edge of the township when my knees buckled, the sound of the raid overwhelming and excruciating. Raids were always merciless bit it was different this time, more violent, and that forced a deep sense of panic to pool in my stomach.

The image of a community being brought to its knees, the sounds and the panic was almost enough to dull a new scent that hung in the air. I hadn’t noticed it until then.

Smoke.

Instinct kicked in as my legs pushed my body on, faster and more desperate than before. Fear fuelled my pace, horror pulsing under my skin. Then it came into view - an orange glow, hidden in the crevasse of climbing hills.

By the time I reached the border of the property, I could see that the shack I’d been squatting in was ablaze. Monster flames, stories tall, enveloped the structure, the surrounding fields lit in sporadic grass fires. The frame was collapsing, embers popping and crackling like fire flies.

I wanted to scream, the questions of why and who in the back of my mind, and I would have, had the air not been slammed out of me. My back hit the floor, a weighted mass on top of me. We struggled in the dirt, my attacker male; taller and stronger. A coolness washed over me, as I realised he was like me.

I clasped my hands behind his neck and then dug my knee up into his groin. He growled as he whipped an object from his belt and pulled back his arm. A knife.

For the first time he looked at me, and I, at him. Those blue eyes were unforgettable, a reflection of my own.

“Elek?”

My brother froze.

A few seconds passed before he pushed himself up, climbing to his feet, and then sliding his weapon away. He was sweaty, covered in dirt and soot, exhaustion leaking from his pores. He closed his eyes, robotic with shock.

 “What happened?” I questioned, as I pushed myself into a sitting position.

“I was a few hours out when the trucks passed me on the highway, I came as fast as I could. When I got here the house was already on fire and the ground was crawling with seekers, raiders, and a few bounty hunters,” he explained, wiping his brow. “When I saw the flames…. And then they began to leave….I just assumed --”

“That they got what they came for,” I finished as I found my feet.

His silence confirmed that I was right.