Contra Crown

Ten

The fear sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning, but it's crippling all the same. We freeze in our place, murmuring prayers and stifling our breaths. My heartbeats came to a maniac rate until I'm no longer sure I'm the only one who hears them.

The approaching footsteps have the wet sound of someone on grass; someone who has not learnt to walk quietly and instead relies on the verges to muffle their steps. Each footfall is chaotically spaced from the last, no rhythm at all. Whoever it is lacks confidence, is likely scared.

I look at the ground where a shadow bears up until it's big enough to swallow us, but it disappears in the darkness of the cave shortly after.

26B gulps, chocking the chains violently until his knuckles turn white. "Kneel," his words buzz close to my ears, sending jolts of shivers down a body so numb that quite whispers might throw off it's balance.

I nod and kneel, practically involuntarily throwing my body to the floor, for my knees to impinge with the uneven rocky ground, and I stifle a groan. 26B glares at me as the footsteps draw closer, now with more determination.

"There's only one of them," he whispers.

The patrol shifts, probably perceiving his clothes as keys pound together and light shines in his hand, a torch. In that frozen second between stand off and fighting I see his eyes flick from me to 26B. Our faces are unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk.

26B's balled fist collided with his cheekbone in a second, flaying his neck backward like a willow caught in the wind. As he stumbles, he nearly falls over the ground, rubbing his cheek with his palm. His action certainly took him by surprise.

"Give me the gun!" 26B yells as the patrol tries to reach to his waistband for his own, but 26B keeps distracting him with generous punches. I quickly search my clothes where I placed the gun, but only felt my body against the fabric.

"Fuck! I lost it." I curse as sweat slithers down my forehead though the air is chilly.

"You had one goddamned job," he glares at me, before the patrol takes the opportunity to grab his own gun and point it to 26B's head with eyes bloodshot with anger, distended bleeding lips and a tumescent purple eye.

26B's mouth falls, and he closes his eyes in submission before the patrol punches him in the face, making him grunt.

"I have them in a cave south east the main tower, send the drones. Over." The patrol says in a tiny radio receiver attached to his sleeve.

The air thickens around me, and I take one slow breath, silently praying for the knife to be there. I put my hand in my pocket for my fingers to curl around a wooden handle involuntarily and I smile, removing it's cover.

The knife meets flesh, soft and pudgy, and makes a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade, is sinks deep enough to make my victim scream. I twist the blade in my hands, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper. His skin is tearing to shreds as the knife rotates, the sound of his muscles and nerves being gouged growing louder. Then, without warning, I jerk it all the way into his back, until the shiny metal disappeared inside him and the black handle is pushing against his broken skin.

"What the hell?" I hear 26B murmur as the gun falls off the patrol's hand. His cry is a horrible sound, guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar. I gulp, and pull the blade out of my now deathly white victim. He sinks to his knees, continuing to scream, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal and thick blood flows freely from the gaping hole in his back. I turn away as his plead for mercy becomes quieter, the filthy tang of blood tingling in my nostrils.