Status: one shot || complete
Stay With Me
“Not even this one?”
The heavy tread of people running was pounding through my mind, the shrieks escaping throats raw from gulping down air as they ducked every so often, yanking friends or family – or even complete strangers – by the arm to safety. You think you’d get used to the continual running, the fearing for your life, but you never did. Not really. Not when the gunshots and bombs dropping overhead were a constant reminder of how far away from home you really were, and the scenery that changed every night, but not by looks, rather by how the land was laid out.
Mountainous regions, or a seemingly secluded lake in a forest, anything that had been a home for someone once was the same; burnt to a crisp or still burning, small children who had managed to tuck themselves away roaming aimlessly, tears rolling down their cheeks. They didn’t speak; they knew what happened, they knew it was no use calling for their mothers or fathers. They allowed themselves to be caught up in the wave of people heading towards the city – what we believed was our only hope. I had carried enough children and buried far more to know that their attempts to keep going were futile, but weren’t we all just clutching at straws by this stage?
I’d been lucky enough to be away when they came. I was out in the forest, trying to hunt. Food had been running low thanks to the cut off between the city and my hometown, and my friend and I had tried to fix the problem by hunting geese and, if we managed to get one, a deer or two. Rabbit traps had also been set up, but we’d been unable to check if anything was stuck in them. We’d returned as they were rolling out, several pickup trucks with several hundred “soldiers”. I use the term soldiers loosely, as if anything they were armed men and women, looking to stir up trouble. How they’d been able to get their hands on planes and bombs, we’d never know. Honestly, we were frightened of finding out the answer. We’d heard them in the early hours of the morning, passing by our camp. We were the only two to survive their raid. We’d joined the running people a few hours later, and had rarely looked back.
“Daisy.” A hand was shaking me roughly, trying to bring me out of my sleep-induced stupor. I’d been staring at the concrete wall next to me for the past fifteen minutes, refusing to acknowledge the cold seeping into my bones or the dreadful smell of human sweat emanating from our camp. We hadn’t used deodorant in about four days, and bathing was become more infrequent as we steered away from the natural, and into the man-made areas.
“Daisy! We need to get going. We’re almost there.” The voice was persistent, and I rolled onto my back with a loud groan. I looked up into the dark eyes of my best friend, whose eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a tight line. “We’ve gotta go.” He extended a hand and helped to pull me up, starting to walk as soon as I was on my feet. He twined our fingers together as he did so, making sure I wouldn’t be lost in the crowd of strays.
As we started moving towards the seemingly mythical city, a silence elapsed between us, and I reached up to start brushing his hair. It was curly by nature, but it had also become knottier as the days wore on. I’d found a comb a week back and tried to detangle his hair with it, but it had been a futile attempt – the teeth had broken off after a few strokes. I looked around us, and saw that we were near the back of the pack – not the best position, unless you liked playing “spot the bomber”. I started walking faster, almost turning into a jog, clutching his hand a bit tighter. There were houses on either side of us now, not a good sign. I quickened my pace even further, running now. Robert didn’t question it, letting me pull him along.
“Faster,” I urged, dropping his hand and sprinting. People around us noticed our haste and began sprinting too, the familiar sounds of feet – both bare and clothed – slapping the ground. I looked at the houses ahead and to my left, watching the curtains. Before this had started, I’d watched way too many horror movies for it to be healthy, and now it was coming back to bite me on the butt. I felt like screaming, unlike I ever had. More animalistic, raw, something that showed the world that I was terrified.
We reached the trees on the other side of the town with no hassles, just left to catch the breath escaping our tired lungs, and slow our erratic heartbeats.
The gunshots that went off overheard scared me senseless. I was frozen to the ground, clutching the bitumen with callused fingers. We’d made it to the city. It was worse than we could have ever imagined. It had seemed innocent when we arrived, about an hour after sundown, but as soon as we had drifted off to sleep they had attacked. I saw people all around me running for their lives.
I saw a child shot down in front of me, his mouth open, yelling for his mother. Robert was yelling at me, scraping me off the ground and wrapping his fingers around my upper arm, allowing me to stagger on behind him.
“Robert –”
“Not now, Daisy. Move.”
So I did.
I pumped my arms, by breathing ragged, my feet in their two year old canvas shoes beginning to bleed – there was hardly anything left of the shoes anyway.
I let out that raw scream and fell as a bullet ripped its way through my abdomen. “Robert!” I rolled over onto my back and let the tears that had sprung to my eyes through shock and pain fall. “Robert.” My hands clamped themselves over the bullet wound, and I felt my blood pumping out. I was more aware of the my pulse than ever, knowing that with each beat more blood would be falling down my side and pooling next to my hip.
Robert skidded to a halt and rushed back to my side, collapsing to the ground and waving his hands frantically over my body. “What can I do?” His eyes were wide, and as my breathing became shallow his panic only increased.
I let go of my stomach to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him closer to me. He placed his own hand over my wound and grimaced, disliking the feel of my blood. I felt bad for getting it in his hair, but I couldn’t care. I needed him near me.
“Stay with me, please.” I whispered, clutching him. Tears were running down my cheeks, and it didn’t help that I was beginning to hiccup.
“I can’t make any promises.” Robert replied, looking around as though he would be able to dodge any bullets hurtling towards him.
“Not even this one?” I pleaded, beginning to lose my tight grip on him.
“I’m sorry, Daisy.” Robert laid me on the ground, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t want to be killed.” I barely heard him say the last sentence before the world faded to black. My heart stayed beating for another few minutes, and my breath rattled in my chest. I had no idea if Robert stayed, but for my last few minutes I convinced myself he was still here, running his thumb over the back of my hand and swearing his head off, complaining to the world.
I could have sworn it was him when a body fell over mine, laying across my stomach. But I hoped to god it wasn’t his blood warming up my cold arm as it dripped from his chest.
Mountainous regions, or a seemingly secluded lake in a forest, anything that had been a home for someone once was the same; burnt to a crisp or still burning, small children who had managed to tuck themselves away roaming aimlessly, tears rolling down their cheeks. They didn’t speak; they knew what happened, they knew it was no use calling for their mothers or fathers. They allowed themselves to be caught up in the wave of people heading towards the city – what we believed was our only hope. I had carried enough children and buried far more to know that their attempts to keep going were futile, but weren’t we all just clutching at straws by this stage?
I’d been lucky enough to be away when they came. I was out in the forest, trying to hunt. Food had been running low thanks to the cut off between the city and my hometown, and my friend and I had tried to fix the problem by hunting geese and, if we managed to get one, a deer or two. Rabbit traps had also been set up, but we’d been unable to check if anything was stuck in them. We’d returned as they were rolling out, several pickup trucks with several hundred “soldiers”. I use the term soldiers loosely, as if anything they were armed men and women, looking to stir up trouble. How they’d been able to get their hands on planes and bombs, we’d never know. Honestly, we were frightened of finding out the answer. We’d heard them in the early hours of the morning, passing by our camp. We were the only two to survive their raid. We’d joined the running people a few hours later, and had rarely looked back.
“Daisy.” A hand was shaking me roughly, trying to bring me out of my sleep-induced stupor. I’d been staring at the concrete wall next to me for the past fifteen minutes, refusing to acknowledge the cold seeping into my bones or the dreadful smell of human sweat emanating from our camp. We hadn’t used deodorant in about four days, and bathing was become more infrequent as we steered away from the natural, and into the man-made areas.
“Daisy! We need to get going. We’re almost there.” The voice was persistent, and I rolled onto my back with a loud groan. I looked up into the dark eyes of my best friend, whose eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a tight line. “We’ve gotta go.” He extended a hand and helped to pull me up, starting to walk as soon as I was on my feet. He twined our fingers together as he did so, making sure I wouldn’t be lost in the crowd of strays.
As we started moving towards the seemingly mythical city, a silence elapsed between us, and I reached up to start brushing his hair. It was curly by nature, but it had also become knottier as the days wore on. I’d found a comb a week back and tried to detangle his hair with it, but it had been a futile attempt – the teeth had broken off after a few strokes. I looked around us, and saw that we were near the back of the pack – not the best position, unless you liked playing “spot the bomber”. I started walking faster, almost turning into a jog, clutching his hand a bit tighter. There were houses on either side of us now, not a good sign. I quickened my pace even further, running now. Robert didn’t question it, letting me pull him along.
“Faster,” I urged, dropping his hand and sprinting. People around us noticed our haste and began sprinting too, the familiar sounds of feet – both bare and clothed – slapping the ground. I looked at the houses ahead and to my left, watching the curtains. Before this had started, I’d watched way too many horror movies for it to be healthy, and now it was coming back to bite me on the butt. I felt like screaming, unlike I ever had. More animalistic, raw, something that showed the world that I was terrified.
We reached the trees on the other side of the town with no hassles, just left to catch the breath escaping our tired lungs, and slow our erratic heartbeats.
The gunshots that went off overheard scared me senseless. I was frozen to the ground, clutching the bitumen with callused fingers. We’d made it to the city. It was worse than we could have ever imagined. It had seemed innocent when we arrived, about an hour after sundown, but as soon as we had drifted off to sleep they had attacked. I saw people all around me running for their lives.
I saw a child shot down in front of me, his mouth open, yelling for his mother. Robert was yelling at me, scraping me off the ground and wrapping his fingers around my upper arm, allowing me to stagger on behind him.
“Robert –”
“Not now, Daisy. Move.”
So I did.
I pumped my arms, by breathing ragged, my feet in their two year old canvas shoes beginning to bleed – there was hardly anything left of the shoes anyway.
I let out that raw scream and fell as a bullet ripped its way through my abdomen. “Robert!” I rolled over onto my back and let the tears that had sprung to my eyes through shock and pain fall. “Robert.” My hands clamped themselves over the bullet wound, and I felt my blood pumping out. I was more aware of the my pulse than ever, knowing that with each beat more blood would be falling down my side and pooling next to my hip.
Robert skidded to a halt and rushed back to my side, collapsing to the ground and waving his hands frantically over my body. “What can I do?” His eyes were wide, and as my breathing became shallow his panic only increased.
I let go of my stomach to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him closer to me. He placed his own hand over my wound and grimaced, disliking the feel of my blood. I felt bad for getting it in his hair, but I couldn’t care. I needed him near me.
“Stay with me, please.” I whispered, clutching him. Tears were running down my cheeks, and it didn’t help that I was beginning to hiccup.
“I can’t make any promises.” Robert replied, looking around as though he would be able to dodge any bullets hurtling towards him.
“Not even this one?” I pleaded, beginning to lose my tight grip on him.
“I’m sorry, Daisy.” Robert laid me on the ground, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t want to be killed.” I barely heard him say the last sentence before the world faded to black. My heart stayed beating for another few minutes, and my breath rattled in my chest. I had no idea if Robert stayed, but for my last few minutes I convinced myself he was still here, running his thumb over the back of my hand and swearing his head off, complaining to the world.
I could have sworn it was him when a body fell over mine, laying across my stomach. But I hoped to god it wasn’t his blood warming up my cold arm as it dripped from his chest.