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.
I thought this would stifle my heart, but it assigned a roar of pain to spread throughout my cage, and I fall back in terror, wiping my hands that are soaked with blood on my clothes uneasily. I find myself looking at the body swimming in a pool of blood, hoping there's a chance that he could be saved.
26B rises to his feet, chocking what I was hoping for to death by holding the patrol's gun and assigning a single bullet to travel into his chest. I think I screamed afterwards, but the world starts spinning around me.
It inspires a scarlet blood waterfall from both his chest and mouth, followed by him shaking bluntly. "Why did you do this?" I yell, punching 26B in the stomach and he grunts, fists his hand to punch me back but stops short as tears sting my eyes.
"The bullet will explode," he answers with a hint of shame crossing his eyes, and he starts moving towards the exit of the cave with determination, dragging me with him.
I keep my eyes fixed on the patrol until we leave, feeling a piece of my heart shattering to fall right next to him. I killed him. He looks like he was in his early forties, maybe he had kids. Imagining their faces when they know that their father was killed on duty by two heartless scums makes my chest tighten.
Tears stream down my face, smirching my vision. My eyes freeze over the ground, until my irises are swimming in a pool of tears and I can no longer see anything.
It's as though there's another person inside of me, she's in there, I know it, but it's like she just took a huge step back from life, and only comes back to torture me for decisions I take when she abandons me.
We squint our eyes as light shines atop of our heads as soon as we're out of the cave. Stumbling on the dirt, 26B pulls my extra weight behind him as he makes his way far from the entrance.
It was just a matter of time and steps for us to hear the explosion, it's not fierce, kind of swallowed itself yet my heart explodes with it and my legs quiver, making my knees barge into the wet grass.
"We slaughtered him," I mutter more to myself than him. It breaks my heart, and it wasn't worth it. It wasn't fucking worth it. I traded a man's life with my own, a man with a family for a life that's nonexistent no more, for someone who only sees bites of a life in episodes. "It's not worth it." I whisper through my sobs.
"We need to get moving," he says with a rigid cold voice. He is grotesque, his eyes are slightly swollen over and bloody spit drools from his slack jaw. He's as revolting as he should be, the outside reflects the man within.
"You didn't have to explode him!" I roar, my voice hoarse and I stand up, punching his stone-hard chest. "You didn't fucking have to."
He winces in pain as I flood him with punches, and holds both of my wrist in one hand. "You're the one who stabbed him, remember?" More tears run down my face as the bitter truth hits me. "What were you expecting for God's sake?" He shouts, and I look at his furrowed, defiled face through my blurry vision.
~
I climb up the hill with my dad, Jeremiah and Mereden, enchanted by Jeremiah's singing and breathing the chilly air heavily, for Novak has always been the hardest to climb yet the best when you reach it's top.
"Shut up already!" Mereden wails, her small green eyes glistening with irritation and her cheeks that are flushed from the effort fight the cold to compromise a pink color, the long wavy locks of her blond hair dancing with the cold wind behind her, listening to its own lullaby.
Jeremiah smiles, now having a stronger motivation to continue singing and that is to piss her off. "Dad!" She nudges dad who grunts, and shrugs her off, focusing more on climbing rather than their hubbub. I smile at them, exhilarated by the fact that our father finally agreed on taking Mereden and I on the hunt rather than just Jeremiah, letting the warmth in my heart keep me cozy.
"Here we are." Dad says, putting down the rifle as soon as we reach the top. I tuck my brown hair behind my ears to take a look at the small hamlet below the carpet of grass ornamented by sheep. The streets look less busier than they actually are from above here yet they still look melancholic. The small houses scattered all around, filling the narrow still-sodden streets from the storm three days ago.
"I go first!" Mereden enthusiastically says, jumping up and down.
"Jeremiah goes first, Mer. Rules." I say softly as dad loads the rifle and she instantly scowls.
"No, actually you go first, Cerissa." Dad orders, holding the rifle out for me. I blink slowly, unsure if I actually want to do this first but I grab the heavy metal from my dad, letting it's chilliness sting my skin.
I lift it up until it's under my chin, and the cold metal makes my skin grayer, as if my blood ran from the rifle.
"Almost." Jeremiah says, adjusting my grip a little. "Go for the easiest target. That sheep." I nod, looking at the poor little thing. It stands alone, almost looking lost and my mouth goes dry. I rest a shaking finger on the trigger but I don't pull it.
I lower the rifle, "I can't do this." I say, shaking my head as my chest tightens.
"Why did you come if you can't do this?" Dad says, grasping the rifle from my hands. "What were you expecting for God's sake, Cerissa?" And he pulls the trigger. I turn my head the other way, unable to take in the view that was fascinating me a while ago.
"It's okay, Ceri." Jeremiah says, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder.
~
My head throbs stiffly. I wince and sob all at once, as I drown my cheeks in a pool of tears. And the next thing I feel is a cold hand cupping my cheek gently, and I lean my face on it, desperately desiring the warmth radiating from it.
"Jeremiah?" I ask through my whimpers, slowly opening my eyes to a vaporous world.
"Um.. No, not really." A raspy voice bursts into my ears, certainly not Jeremiah's and it brings me back to reality. It goes against every instinct I have to yank his hand off my face and I wipe my tears with my sleeve to see his puzzled eyes boring into mine. I take steps backwards, as many as the chains can allow, hating him for what he did, but mostly for not being Jeremiah at this specific moment.
"The bullet would've been in our chests instead, you know." He says, his voice softer than ever, and I suddenly hate myself for crying in front of him for the second time.
"Just shut up." I faintly answer.
He sighs and bends down, grabbing a long branch of driftwood tossed up on the ground and breaks it in two, holding one out for me.
"We'll sharpen them with your knife later." He says. I look at it for a moment before I take it from his hand to throw it back to the ground, suddenly hating the fact that I have a knife dipped in my pockets. I know it would serve as walking stick and protection because we both know we've put one threat behind us yet we're in a forest chained and almost unarmed, god knows what other threats await us.
**
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