terrorized inmates.
Good riddance, he thought.
With his gun slung over his shoulder, he ran through the forest
until he saw him, an Imperial soldier at the mercy of three adult rebels,
likely the same rebels that ambushed the troops he saw earlier that day. With
the rebels were two boys. He’d save them for last.
“Finally,” he muttered. He hid behind the brush and took aim. For
a moment, he wondered why only one rebel had a gun, but then he realized that
it looked like a government-issued rifle that likely belonged to the Imperial
soldier who kept his hands raised into the air. He knew the unarmed rebels
would be easy targets. He couldn’t wait to finish them off, one by one.
Owen took a deep breath as he continued to aim at the
blond-haired rebel’s skull. When he exhaled, he would squeeze off his first
shot and the hunt would be underway.
* * *
Rebecca stared at the back of Clark’s head. She
shuttered every time she realized he wore the uniform that represented the
regime that took everything from her. She thought of her mother, who died en
route to the concentration camp from which she escaped. Her younger brother
didn’t make it past selection, since he looked under twelve and therefore not
fit for hard labor. Since she was nineteen and athletic, she was selected to
work at the camp until her usefulness had been depleted. After a month in the
camp and living off of half the caloric intake she was used to, she wasn’t
working as fast or hard as the most recent inmates and condemned to death by
firing squad.
She stepped back slowly towards the edge where the steep decline
began, ready to run for it. Ready to escape another
precarious situation. Her heart raced as she waited for something to
happen…anything.
Then she heard the loud crack of a gun. She felt the old man grab
onto her arm and pull her as he ran down the hill. The boys were by their side
as they raced through the high grass and weeds that seemed to exist only to
slow their pace. She felt the strain in her legs as she ran past a few cars in
the parking lot towards the large building. She thought of the man who had
saved her and his ultimate fate. The raging lunatic who killed him was now on
the hunt for them.
But then she saw him to her right.
“Clark!”
Clark turned and looked at her, but did not speak. A single
gunshot rang out from behind them. Rebecca ran even faster when she heard the
window of a nearby car shatter moments before another shot rang out.
Then she heard Tyler scream. Rebecca stopped abruptly when she saw
the boy hit the ground. There he lay, in an open space between two cars,
holding his leg.
Clark ran over to Tyler, crouched down, and picked up the boy.
Blood flowed from a wound on the boy’s leg, but there was no time to wait. They
had to get around the side of the building, out of sight from whoever was
shooting at them.
One more shot was fired before they reached the side, though
nobody was hit. It was almost as if the person firing was taunting them.
“Check the doors,” Clark said.
Rebecca saw him stop to check one of the metal doors and she ran
to the next one to do the same. She turned the knob only to find it was locked.
She heard Clark’s boots on the blacktop as he raced towards a loading dock.
“Over here,” Clark said.
Rebecca heard Tyler moan in agony as she followed Clark up the
steps to the loading dock. She felt Thomas nearly run into her as he and
Charles made it to the top of the steps.
Near the building, Rebecca saw Clark lay Tyler down near the bay doors where inventory
was unloaded from trucks in happier times. One door was raised about a foot and
a half from the ground, enough space to allow them to enter the building.
Rebecca pulled off a piece of her ragged clothing and wrapped it
around Tyler’s
leg, tying it tight in order to stop the bleeding. “I’ll take care of him,” she
said.
Clark went under the door first and within seconds, called for
them.
Good riddance, he thought.
With his gun slung over his shoulder, he ran through the forest
until he saw him, an Imperial soldier at the mercy of three adult rebels,
likely the same rebels that ambushed the troops he saw earlier that day. With
the rebels were two boys. He’d save them for last.
“Finally,” he muttered. He hid behind the brush and took aim. For
a moment, he wondered why only one rebel had a gun, but then he realized that
it looked like a government-issued rifle that likely belonged to the Imperial
soldier who kept his hands raised into the air. He knew the unarmed rebels
would be easy targets. He couldn’t wait to finish them off, one by one.
Owen took a deep breath as he continued to aim at the
blond-haired rebel’s skull. When he exhaled, he would squeeze off his first
shot and the hunt would be underway.
* * *
Rebecca stared at the back of Clark’s head. She
shuttered every time she realized he wore the uniform that represented the
regime that took everything from her. She thought of her mother, who died en
route to the concentration camp from which she escaped. Her younger brother
didn’t make it past selection, since he looked under twelve and therefore not
fit for hard labor. Since she was nineteen and athletic, she was selected to
work at the camp until her usefulness had been depleted. After a month in the
camp and living off of half the caloric intake she was used to, she wasn’t
working as fast or hard as the most recent inmates and condemned to death by
firing squad.
She stepped back slowly towards the edge where the steep decline
began, ready to run for it. Ready to escape another
precarious situation. Her heart raced as she waited for something to
happen…anything.
Then she heard the loud crack of a gun. She felt the old man grab
onto her arm and pull her as he ran down the hill. The boys were by their side
as they raced through the high grass and weeds that seemed to exist only to
slow their pace. She felt the strain in her legs as she ran past a few cars in
the parking lot towards the large building. She thought of the man who had
saved her and his ultimate fate. The raging lunatic who killed him was now on
the hunt for them.
But then she saw him to her right.
“Clark!”
Clark turned and looked at her, but did not speak. A single
gunshot rang out from behind them. Rebecca ran even faster when she heard the
window of a nearby car shatter moments before another shot rang out.
Then she heard Tyler scream. Rebecca stopped abruptly when she saw
the boy hit the ground. There he lay, in an open space between two cars,
holding his leg.
Clark ran over to Tyler, crouched down, and picked up the boy.
Blood flowed from a wound on the boy’s leg, but there was no time to wait. They
had to get around the side of the building, out of sight from whoever was
shooting at them.
One more shot was fired before they reached the side, though
nobody was hit. It was almost as if the person firing was taunting them.
“Check the doors,” Clark said.
Rebecca saw him stop to check one of the metal doors and she ran
to the next one to do the same. She turned the knob only to find it was locked.
She heard Clark’s boots on the blacktop as he raced towards a loading dock.
“Over here,” Clark said.
Rebecca heard Tyler moan in agony as she followed Clark up the
steps to the loading dock. She felt Thomas nearly run into her as he and
Charles made it to the top of the steps.
Near the building, Rebecca saw Clark lay Tyler down near the bay doors where inventory
was unloaded from trucks in happier times. One door was raised about a foot and
a half from the ground, enough space to allow them to enter the building.
Rebecca pulled off a piece of her ragged clothing and wrapped it
around Tyler’s
leg, tying it tight in order to stop the bleeding. “I’ll take care of him,” she
said.
Clark went under the door first and within seconds, called for
them.
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