Without warning, someone shoved me to the ground. I lay there, winded and bruised against the metal tray as bullets tore through the canvas covering. They whirred past my head like tiny torpedoes as I squished my face uncomfortably against the alloy.
Through the flap of the canvas tent, Officers ran into standoff positions with their guns behind barriers. They steadied themselves against anything they could find in their rush; aiming and shooting rapidly at something I couldn't see.
Drone's buzzed in a maniacal pattern. Confused, they began beeping loudly, attempting to identify foes. A steady red light emitted from them as they shot large bullets at anything that dared to move. The Drones couldn't hold themselves together. I imagined their small microchips were overloaded with information, pointing to the exact reason they failed to be effective law enforcers pre-war.
Whenever a mass shooting occurred, they were there, rushing back and forth across the scene, shooting at absolutely everyone. Gunning down everyone that moved was their style, even a scattering of pigeons was enough to set them off. Perfectly useless machines.
I don't know why they didn't just terminate them all after they first defected. Maybe they'd invested too much into them to kill off the program? Whatever it was, they were here now, being utilised by a group who tattooed themselves with an angel skull.
The scene was one bloody mess. Officers slumped over, sliding to the ground and leaving their own running paint stain wherever they fell. Eyeballing the scene I was presented with, I debated whether to run. If I did no one would notice, but there was always a chance I could be killed accidentally by a stray bullet.
If I could, I would take those odds, they were better than dying without a fight via Sergeant Hill's hand. But I was frozen stiff, and I began to panic. Was it just in my head? Had I possibly been hit?
My hands desperately searched up and down my body. My clothes, although ripped, were not soaked in anyone's blood. I was not in any immense pain, nor did I wince. I was battered and bruised and that was it. I let out an unheard sigh of relief. I was going to survive another day. No, I wanted to survive another day.
Satisfied with the self-diagnosis, I wriggled myself towards the edge of the vehicle.
The ground looked so far away from here. And rock hard too. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. This was it! All I had to do was drop onto the ground. Here was freedom, welcoming me, begging me, into its open arms.
I clutched the rim of the trailer, a rush of adrenaline making me giddy, and began to slowly push myself up. I smiled. Freedom was really here, an arm's length away. Totally attainable. I hadn't even had time to process it yet! I closed my eyes, relishing in the moment. I was going to be free at last! No more tagging bodies. No more cruel sightings. Just freedom.
Maybe I'd go and live up in the bush again? Who knows if the Bushman would still be wandering the forests? I sure hoped he was. A familiar face, although our encounter was brief, would be more than welcoming at this point. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. So, this is what freedom must smell like: pine wood and frosty dew drops. I smiled, relishing in the sweetness of it all. My elbows went up and I gently eased my way forward.
"Freedo-" I began to yell out.
"Stay right where you are, miss!" a bellowing voice ordered from behind me, making me come crashing back down in despair. My hands went white as I squeezed tighter on the rim of the trailer. Anger and adrenaline are not a great mix. I turned, in utter spite, towards the uncanny voice.
Sergeant Hill stood with his feet shoulder width apart, smiling callously. He didn't notice, nor care about the bullets still whizzing past him. He was invincible, like a supervillain before his downfall. His piercing eyes were a crazed daze directed at me and his face was contorted with a mixture of disgust and anguished anger as he scanned me.
"Well, we trying to run, are we?" he said, kneeling down so he was eye level with me.
I shook my head rapidly as he took a step towards me. I gulped, recoiling away from him and glancing at the ground that now looked miles away. I panicked. This was where he killed me. I was breathless, unable to make my lungs work in an orderly fashion as I felt my freedom slowly slipping through my fingers like falling sand. I tried to desperately clutch at it, gripping the rim of the truck like it was a life board keeping me afloat on an endless sea of terror.
"Tut, tut," he said shaking his head and crawling closer so I could smell the cigarette rolling off his breath in billows. "Don't you know what happens to little girls who try to run away from me?"
I stared at him in belief, willing myself to find the words to fight back. What did he want me to say? Of course I knew! They died. That's what happens to them. Isn't that what happened to all those girls plucked like stuffed toys from the line only yesterday?
"They don't last very long," he snarled loudly over the gunfire, bending down over me so all I could see was that horrible pointed nose and soul penetrating eyes. "But you know what else happens to little girls?"
I flinched, not wanting to think of the repercussions this man had in mind.
"Nasty people who aren't me, find them. And we don't want that happening now, do we, Ellie?"
He was barely an arm's reach away, but my nose caught the aroma of lust on his breath slowly rolling off his tongue with the smoke. It was now or never. There was no time to think. I needed to get away from this monster before something I couldn't ever recover from happened.
Without thinking twice, I pushed myself off the platform. In slow motion, I fell, weightless, through the air and landed with a thud on the cracked asphalt. I saw his hand fly out after me, grabbing onto a slice of my clothing. But it was too old and ripped straight from his grip in a horrifyingly slow rip.
I lay in the dust for a moment, winded, before I allowed my body to roll under the car and curl up tightly. I waited for him to jump down and pull me from underneath the truck, dragging me away to a place that held no possibility of such freedom ever presenting itself to me again. I half expected him to slaughter me then and there, but somehow, deep in his twisted Rebel mind, he knew exactly where I fitted into his little puzzle.
"Drive you moron! Drive!" he screamed at the driver, whilst banging on the back of the cabin like a maniac about to slaughter a cockroach.
The engine roared to life in response to his outrage and the thick wheels narrowly missed my head as they rolled past. I curled myself up tighter into the ball shape, frightened as the other vehicle drivers became confused and drove forward.
From my huddled position, I observed as he stood at the edge of the truck holding onto the side of it like a soldier leaving a battle scene with the full honor bestowed upon him by his own men. He stood proudly, shoulders back as he glared at me. He slowly raised his gun, pointing it at me.
My eyes widened in terror. I moved my lips to scream, but all that came out was a small whimper. Was my theory wrong? Did he really just want to end my life?
He made a shooting motion and my throat suddenly opened as if on cue. I screamed so loudly I deafened myself as he laughed and let several shots go off.
They sparked off the ground and rebounded into the oncoming trucks. They bounced over me, just missing my head. When he saw this, a frustrated blood-curdling scream erupted from his lips that only just matched mine. It seemed to echo towards me and sat like a rock in my ears. I couldn't shake it.
I covered them, rocking myself as the last truck thundered over me. All of my emotions came rushing out. Built upon layers of stress and trauma; I just let it all out. A second wave of ear-piercing screams exploded from my lips. All the anger, all misery, all the close calls, came flowing out. It played like one long horror movie across my vision.
I don't know how long I lay there rocking myself and screaming, but it felt like forever. I wanted the nightmare to be over. I wanted to be done with this chapter...I wanted Matthew. He would know what to do, how to act, and yet, he was lost to me. I couldn't find him and probably never would again.
I began crying. He was going to be a memory forever.
I wanted to stop the noise escaping my mouth and the tears making a pool in the dust where my head lay so badly, but I was physically and mentally drained. The most I could manage was a whimper; my voice all but drained of audible sounds.
It wasn't long before someone's arms gently picked up my body. They curled themselves around my frame like a warm hug from my Dad. I buried my face into their chest as I was carried off, wishing the world didn't have to play this cruel game with me anymore.
"I missed you Matthew," I whispered.
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Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter! Don't forget to vote if you found this chapter exciting! Also, who do think picked Ellie up?
Let me know in the comments below!! ~ H.W.