All American Boys

35. God Bless America

All American Boys

Chapter 35: God Bless America

My heart thumped in my chest, as the adrenaline began to rush through my veins. My only thought at that point was to get out of there.

Get to the car, that's right – I had to get to the car.

Cyril grabbed my hand and ran alongside me as people scrambled in all directions, dropping their signs and belongings as they fled for shelter. The screams, the shouts and the explosions were just so loud, I could barely hear my own instincts telling me what to do.

The two block run towards the car felt like a marathon – Cyril was puling me with one hand, while my free hand pushed past people desperately trying to flee. Get out of my way.

Suddenly I could hear a loud sound coming from above, like a constant beating drumroll that seems to be getting louder. As a shadow fell on me for a brief second, I looked up to see a chopper flying dangerously low, hovering right above us. It cruised over the crowd below, seemingly maintaining it's position.

Then the plumes of white smoke fell. A thick mist of white fell upon the people, spreading and splintering like the spray of waves crashing violently onto the shore.

Cyril and I were fortunate enough to be at the edge of the crowd when we began running, so we were quite far ahead of the whole mess. I could hear screaming from behind me, but I dared not look.

Someone fell in front of me, and I wasn't fast enough to react. I didn't even know if it was a man or a woman. I couldn't even hear them groan or whimper when I stepped over them. All I felt was the crunching of soft bone under my soles, upsetting my balance and momentum. But luckily for me, I managed to regain my footing as I found myself back on the steady asphalt again. I wouldn't want to be in their position.

Cyril's hands were trembling. I didn't know if it was from fear or from the adrenaline. Possibly both. We were at the junction now.

But just across the street, I noticed our car had garnered some unwelcome attention.

Admittedly, it was probably our own damn fault for parking an expensive, luxurious and shiny red Ferrari near walking distance of people who couldn't even afford gas, but Jesus, keep your hands to yourself. A couple of young men had taken an interest in Cyril's car, and by the way they were ogling over it, it seemed like they just wanted to snatch it for themselves. They had olive skin and dark hair, one of them wore a Lakers hoodie while the other had a plain T-shirt. The former was big and tall, the former only slightly built. The two of them discussing something animatedly, as if they had urgent business to settle. Plain T-shirt kept looking around hurriedly, for God knows what reason.

In that split second I realised it – they were going to steal our only means of escape. That was almost as good as killing us.

The two of them turned to face us when we approached. They glared at us, realising we were the car's owners. They shared a knowing look, and I immediately had a bad feeling in my gut.

They weren't going to back off. Things were going to get ugly – fast.

I let go of Cyril's hand and slowed down my pace, so that Cyril naturally ended up in front of me. That way, whatever happened, I'm not the one who gets shanked first. I noticed the both of them eyeing Cyril, as they stood by the door to the driver's seat.

"Nice ride huh, kid?" plain shirt said in a gruff voice, marred with a thick accent.

He had to speak loudly, over the sound of the helicopter and people screaming in the background.