How will we get around it? - I

23 5 6
                                                  

Bright, white lights penetrated the air from above, shrouding all the workers in a solid, unwavering screen. Fingers twitched and eyes squinted as they each looked away from their computers and up at the high-ranking commander upright and stern on a raised platform. Seated in chairs of slightly different heights, made entirely of wood and plastic, they played with clothing or crossed their arms expectantly, awaiting the message sure to soon come spilling out of the authority's mouth. 

Eyes attentive, mouths shut, they listened as the girl rattled off orders after orders, making sure each were aware of their tasks, aware of their responsibilities and the dire consequences if they didn't perform their job effectively. The same, same, same boring speeches given every month. The same, same, same boring speeches given to make sure no-one disobeyed, no-one had doubts, everyone worked until they dropped. 

Richard sighed, glancing at the clock out of the corner of his eyes, flicking back and forth as the seconds ticked. When will this be over? I need to get beck to work...

***

Seated back at his desk, once again fixated on his computer screen, Richard groaned. Twelve more diagrams. Twelve more entire diagrams. And three stacks of paper he had to annotate. Each of the diagrams took an hour at least, not to mention all the paper... And it was already one o'clock... He sighed. I'm not getting any sleep tonight... Again.

His eyes glazed over as his fingers tapped, the diagram in front of him unmoved, unchanged. His tapping legs jumped up and down as a tired mind thought. 

All of a sudden, his vision began to blur, turning black with red and white dots creeping in. His midsection slumped forward, his hands slackening and his legs turning into dead weight as he collapsed forward in a heap, unable to control and completely unconnected from his body. 

A white flash darted across his eyes, exiting as soon as it came, and a shadowed yet hardened claw came into view, reaching across him like a spider. Deafening shots filled his ears and red flew out of the claw like a fountain. A red haze consumed him, completely obstructing his view of anything else, taking over the claw, the shots, the brisk rush of the air, everything he could see, hear or breathe, cutting all his senses. 

Then a voice. Deep and stern. Harsh and filled with such authority. A large dark shape towered above him, reaching up and up as he craned his neck to see the top of this enormous mountain of a figure. A warm, heavy hand placed on his shoulder with such vigorous strength that he was almost pushed into the dirty ground beneath him. With a glance to his right, the man turned away, solemn and seemingly concerned about... Darkness consumed him again as everything disappeared and he was thrown into a whirl of circling pitch.

He fell in a pit, only the faintest of lights coming through the opening. Everything around him was grey, an all consuming colourless matter that filled all edges of his vision, forcing him to focus on the ghastly sight before him. A skull stared at him, blind and hollow, skin tearing up on the edges in small curls, rotten and lifeless. It's mouth was open in a scream, only the smallest whiffs of hair still attached to its cranium, and its hands were splayed, almost fearful, under the strong, sharp jaw. A small insect crawled its way around the empty eye socket, eating through dried blood and rotten flesh until it pulled its way into the light, staring with unseeing eyes at the boy peering down at him. Richard screamed, eyes wide and filled with dry tears, mouth ripped open, unable to halt the piercing, horrified screech spilling from his throat. And with a wash of white, the scene changed again.

A gun came into view, small yet obviously powerful. Brown and red pulled and circled the grip as strict silver formed the barrel. It stood in front of him, held in a large, masculine hand, awaiting his decision. Reaching out, he gripped it, holding it as at any second it would suddenly come to life and jump up to aim and fire at his head. A small intake of breath, quickly follow by the deep murmur of a voice sitting precariously in his ear and a hand which reached up and tapped his, moving it to the side slightly, correcting the aim. He pulled back the safety, still unsure in his movements, tremors flowing through his body as he stared into the eyes of the figure in front of him. Their body was bent over, forcing them into a reluctant image of surrender and helplessness as they looked at him with sad and regretful eyes. But he stayed on his course. Air rushed in and out of his lungs, his eyes closing before finally a thundering burst echoed through the air. White entered and exited. Another switch.

When They Were Gone [UNDER CONSTRUCTION]Where stories live. Discover now