Homesick: The Growing War

Chapter 5

The sudden realisation that Kye and Watchee could be killed in about two minutes dawned onto me and the little colour left in my face drained. Kye was still back up in the main floor, not down here in the safety zones like Pollax, Castro, Winter and Ashlee were. He must've gone back to help Watchee down with his wheelchair - it was the sort of thing Kye would do! Watchee couldn't go down by himself and now the two of them were about to be killed by the impact of the bombs. Winter was right. The bombs impact was too strong to survive up there. I could even feel it from here, so whatever Kye and Watchee was struggling with must've been at least ten times worse.

"I'm going back up there to save them," I said frantically. Pollax's face turned beet red, like all of this had paid off into nothing. I didn't let it bother me. I had to try at least. There was the smallest inch of a ray that Kye and Watchee could make it out of there safely.

"Don't be so stupid, Everett," growled Pollax, having another quick glimpse at his radar. "You're going to be killed up there. Kye and Watchee will make it down here."

The voice announced there was one minute left until the doors would close and the last-minute stragglers were jostled through the door. The roof was hit with another dent, which detonated, rattling my bones to the very core. Pollax dragged me back to the corner, but I tugged myself out of his grip and ran to the doors. A minute left... we were wasting time and I couldn't even hear or see a trace of both of them.

"Everett!" bellowed Pollax angrily, but I ignored his command, squeezed myself through people quite easily and slipped out of the doors. The stairs were darkened now, all lights were preparing to be switched off, but I could still see, slipping a little from the tiny crumbs of stone on the ground. The air was ten times more thin up here with the airstrike, so my lungs felt like it was filled with stones, making it hard to breathe.

"Kye? Watchee?" I called, fighting to keep my voice steady. No response. My voice echoed and bounced off the walls. I reached the main floor. Nothing was severely damaged but everything was toppled over, tables, vases, broken cutlery. The explosions overhead were still loud and ringing in my ear. There was another large explosion from overhead of us and I held on the wall for support, panting, before making my way forward

Skidding a right, I entered the analysis centre. The floor shuddered beneath my feet, making me wobble and my bones vibrate to the very core. The lights were flickering on and off and I saw in horror on the big screen, that there was just a little under a minute left. We had to get out of here before we were trapped and killed. I spied Watchee's headset tossed on the ground. The entire panel was shaking and the screen flashed at random occurrences. Everything was shaking; from the knocked over tables to me. Suddenly, my ears perked to a sound of heavy, short breathing.

"Watchee? Kye?" I called out into the darkness tentatively. There was no response for a second, but then Kye's strong voice rang out in the darkness.

"Kara! Over here!" called Kye in strained relief. His voice didn't seem right. It sounded frantic and frightened. I couldn't see Watchee, but Kye's bright eyes seemed to shine in the swallowing darkness and guided me towards me like a torch. It wanted to hug him and never let go. He was still alive with me. It was just when I reached them was when I notice something was wrong. Kye was sweating and holding Watchee's head at an angle, where he lay there, eyes closed and his lips were chalk pale. I swallowed.

"He's unconscious. The bombs thinned the air capacity and it affected Watchee the most," explained Kye, talking very quickly. He was also breathing very fast and I knew we were both going to fall unconscious if we didn't quicken our pace. "He's barely breathing, and I don't know how to wake him up!"

Kye sounded distressed and frantic, not the usually calm and strong manner his voice sounded like. I looked at Watchee, who's face was growing steadily paler and paler, and his fingers were rattling at uneven rhythms, his round glasses slipping lower and lower down his face. He was already dying on his wheelchair. I looked around in mad desperation and my eyes fell to a first-aid kit, sitting on the table.