Moonlight illuminated his bloodstained face as it glistened with sweat, determination tensing up his muscles almost like he couldn't control himself. Dark bruises swelled up what little I could see of him in the dimmed moonlight. His dark eyes held a sombre edge as he slowly edged his way around Bryce, his hand shaking as he slowly squeezed down tighter on the trigger.
I wanted to run towards him. I wanted to embrace him, tell him everything was okay, that he didn't need to do this, but something deep within me, told me not to. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here, I would be safe in my sleeping quarters - sleeping. Yet, here he was, clear as day. Beaten and battered, but here, nonetheless.
"What did they do to you?" I found myself saying, my eyes squinting to see him better.
Matthew glanced at me as I stood rooted to the ground.
"We need to go, now!" he demanded, changing his tone as he glared with intensity at the incapacitated and recovering Bryce. "Move and you're dead."
He splayed his hands defensively, still trying to get enough air into his lungs to throw the limp Maurice off of himself. "Wasn't...trying...to."
Matthew stuck the gun further towards Bryce. "What did you do to her? If you've hurt her, you're a dead man!"
Bryce glared up at him, aghast. "I saved her life, mate."
I froze, halting any thought of advancing between the pair. There was something off about this. Wasn't Matthew supposed to be with Sergeant Hill? Did he escape? Or worse, was he released? Whatever it was, my mind was working like a clock, trying to put the pieces together, and I could feel myself sinking like I was standing in quicksand. How on earth did he find me?
"Did you not hear me? They're coming! We need to go now!" He thrust the gun at Bryce, who only panted harder. "I said, don't move!"
"Calm down!" Bryce stated, seeming to gain a little of his edge back. His eyes slid across to me, softening like clouds as we examined each other. He didn't know who Matthew was, but he knew there was some kind of unspoken bond between us.
It was written into my flesh, like a walking plaque. Matthew had been that determined teenager who knew what to do. The kind of guy who'd prop up his girl and give her the confidence she needed to achieve anything in life. Matthew was supposed to be the cuddly, free-thinking type, but something had happened to him, and now, he was maddened, and his only thought seemed to be about me.
"Put the gun down," I articulated calmly, finding the courage to take a cautious step towards him. "I don't know what happened to you, or why you're here, but you're safe now. He won't hurt you."
He glared at me before returning his intense and broken gaze back to Bryce, wildness clouding his eyes in that brief exchange. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"There's already one dead body lying on the ground, don't make it two."
"They're coming," he replied simply.
I took another shaky step towards him, my feet as light as the very air I breathed. What happened to him before the war was none of my business, but I obeyed my father's rules. "Look after those who look after you," I muttered.
"Man, you don't have to do this," Bryce pleaded with the kind of strength I envied and expected from a bounty hunter.
"SHUT UP!" he screeched, thrusting the pistol closer to his face. "We don't have time for this, Ellie. We need to go!"
"Go where?"
"They're coming!"
"Who's coming?" I said as gently as I could, my breath nearly on his neck. I was probing on thin ice, but the only thing running through my mind was my father's stern voice. In his current state, Matthew could easily turn on me.
"They are," he said quietly, casting his eyes down.
"Who is they?" I asked, gradually becoming more audacious.
He shook his head.
The more I crept closer to him, the more I saw how broken he was. The side of his face was swollen and purple, and his eyes were bloodshot like he'd been given twenty energy drinks. We had only been apart three days and already I could see his ribs protruding from his body. His shirt dangled in threads from his shoulders exposing dark, open gashes layering his back. It was as if a tiger had grabbed him and clawed at him over and over again in a vicious attack.
"Jesus," I said gently, finally plucking up the courage to reach my hand out and touch his shoulder. He flinched and drew away. "Put the gun down, Matthew. There's no need for this. Bryce is just a friend. He'll help us, I promise."
He ignored me; his eyes stuck in a gloomy place he couldn't break free from.
"They're coming," he said as he let his arm go limp and grabbed my wrist.
He dug his fingernails into my skin, drawing blood as he bolted, dragging me with him. I tried to dig my heels into the dirt as I resisted his pull, but he shot out like a bullet, leaving me stumbling behind him.
"Matthew! Stop!" I screamed, trying to tug my wrist out of his grasp. "Bryce! Bryce, help!"
I glanced desperately over my shoulder, using both hands to resist against Matthew. Bryce, with worry lacing his face in a strange protective nature, was busy dumping Maurice's body off himself. In a heartbeat, he was racing after us, just like Allan would have done.
Allan would've taken the beating for me. The French speaking boy would wrap me in his arms, the perfect smile dawning his face as we all laughed around the fire at the latest successful battle of the Secret Rebellion. We'd have our little blue slouch hats keeping our heads warm, my red hair in two perfect braids reaching down my back.
Proud. That's what we were. Proud and happy in the arms of each other. Never mind there was a war, we were young, free and content. All too quickly, Allan's perfect ebony face disappeared, and with it, his smile. Instead, Bryce's golden face puffed back, his muscles moving in rhythm to his jagged breathing as he sprinted.
"Do something Bryce!"
This wasn't how I envisioned seeing Matthew again. Not like this. Not in a distraught, tortured mess. In truth, I never really thought I'd see him again, and I was annoyed that Bryce didn't try to help me.
He just sprinted after us, the whole situation scaring me more than before. What had they done to Matthew to make him like this? A strong confident character shouldn't act out, not like this. They shouldn't be broken beyond return; lost in a world of darkness. And three days was all it took.
Gazing at his back, I watched his muscles flex. The blood from his wounds trickled and dropped to the forest floor in loud splatters, like a slaughtered lamb. It seemed so surreal.
"THEY'RE COMING!" Matthew shrieked out.
"Stop, Matthew! No one's coming!" I argued, letting myself be dragged along. "Bryce! Do something for God's sake!"
He said nothing even as I glanced over my shoulder in exasperation at him. He stared at the sky, searching for something I clearly couldn't see or hear.
"Just run!" he panted, working his tired body harder.
I peered up at the sky and instead of seeing the stars, I was met with a blinding white light. A loud buzzing noise, like a thousand bees, hummed overhead. It was close enough to touch. I slowed, gawking at the sight. I almost wanted to reach out and touch it; I had never seen one of these machines before, not even before the war happened and the mere sight of it excited me to some degree.
Matthew jolted me forward. "RUN YOU MORON! THEY'LL KILL YOU!"
But I couldn't. I was fixated on the blinding white light that trailed us.
"RUN!" Bryce echoed.
The light held a mystical trance and eventually it landed itself on us. It kept pace as we darted in between the trees. Snaking in and out - the light never leaving us. It was so pure, like angels raining their light down on us.
Only it wasn't angels, it was the New Government, and the facade of white changed rapidly into a gradient of deep red. Confused, I looked over my shoulder.
In that moment of pure dread, an oncoming storm of steady red lights illuminated a sea of black. The bodies of several hundred Officers sprinted after us - their rifles at bay. They spanned across the forest floor like a gigantic Frokost and bounced to a uniformed rhythm. There was something about the way they seemed to fit into the forest that made them look like a work of art. I stopped to gawk at the beauty of it all; finally slipping out of Matthew's grip.
I don't know why I stood there, but in that moment, I did. I knew now why I felt off about Matthew's sudden appearance. My eyes never left them as they approached, and my heart leapt harder as a trance overcame me.
Stay hidden.
In a rush of adrenalin, my father's voice told me to hide. Scamper up a tree and wait for the whole ordeal to be done. But my limbs had a mind of their own. I tensed, watching as the wave of Drones drew in closer, ready to kill me.
Bryce raced past me, his arm sweeping me off my feet as he grabbed my frozen body and threw me over his shoulder. They were barely meters away. I outstretched my hand, my fingers grazing the nose of a Drone as it dipped.
In less than a second, Bryce's body jolted, a bullet hitting him. He cried out, crashing to the ground. His grip slipped as I dropped out of it and tried to stand, disorientated. The wave of black closed in, and with nowhere to run, I was grabbed by the waist and tackled to the ground; unable to see anything but the sea of red and black.