'Why'd you do it?' I hear a coarse voice utter suddenly in the deafening silence. I turn to see Jarrod's confused look, blood slightly dripping down his nose. 'It was a no-brainer. I'd rather die than lose a member of my squad.' Jarrod raises an eyebrow and coughs, a small smirk appearing on his face. 'Well, I hope it was worth it. We've now put the entire operation at risk.' I wince, realising that I've put Sakura, Ashleigh, and everyone else's lives at risk. 'Thanks, though.' I turn, surprised to hear that from Jarrod, who rolls his eyes seeing my confusion. 'Yeah, yeah. Anyhow, we need to find a way out of here. Any ideas?' I stand up from my chair, letting the cuffs drop to the floor. Jarrod looks at them in disbelief. 'How'd you do that?' I smirk. 'I'm the squad leader for a reason.' I hold up the small, metal pin that was hidden underneath my sleeve. Jarrod raises an eyebrow, impressed, as I undo his cuffs. 'What's the plan?' he asks, feeling his wrists. I glance at him, sighing. 'You're not going to like it.'
'Help! Help! He's escaped!' Jarrod yells as the rapid footsteps of our good friend Sergeant Kirliko louden as he rushes to our cell. Kirliko aims his rifle, but lowers it in shock. Even with the gas mask, his disbelief is clear; the prisoner is gone from his chair, leaving Jarrod behind, his hands still 'fastened' behind his back. Sergeant Kirliko struts towards the chair, noticing the cuffs left on the floor with a heap of metal chains above it. 'Ce naiba...?' Suddenly, he is struck on the back of the head as I emerge from the side of the cell door. Kirliko collapses face first into the chair, his rifle clatters onto the ground nearby. Jarrod stands up and looms over him, ensuring he's out cold. I walk over to him, whisking my hand in the air, 'I still can't believe that worked.' I wince. 'Yeah, but that still hurt like hell, punching a metal helmet.' Jarrod nabs his pistol while I get to work putting on his uniform.
***
'What do you mean, he's been released?' The door guard asks in Romanian while giving me a speculative look, glancing over my shoulder at Jarrod. I feel my grip on my rifle tighten as I struggle to speak through such as suffocating gas mask. Like seriously, how do they live with these things twenty-four-seven? I can feel my entire face warm up with every exhale I take, as I realise that my mask has not been connected properly to the air tank, the hot air suffocating me with every second longer the mask is latched to me. 'Orders from the top,' I explain in broken Romanian, 'The prisoner is to be released as per an agreement with the enemy.' The guard tilts his head, seeming not fully convinced with this alibi. 'I wasn't notified of this. Let me consult my senior-' I pop his skull with the butt of my rifle as he turns away from me, his limp body collapsing to the metal-grated floor with a resounding thump. Jarrod chuckles. 'You're Romanian is terrible, by the way. Where did you learn it?' I press the door button the soldier was guarding, prompting the door to slide open revealing the midnight moon and dimly lit forest path. 'Duolingo,' I sigh as I rip the sweaty gas mask off my face, tossing it aside with disgust. Jarrod chuckles as we race out the compound down the forrest path, our footsteps barely audible through the sudden sounds of helicopters flying over us and landing within the compound. We look at each other. 'Something's off,' Jarrod remarks, both of us noting the large amount of vehicle and infantry carriers landing at the compound.
Suddenly, we come under fire as more guards appear behind us at the entrance, the bright muzzle flashes of their rifles like stars in the night sky, twinkling and flickering with each shot. I return fire, managing to dome one of the guards as his body spins, gurgles, before crumpling down the small steps of the compound. Another guard pushes up on his position, managing to clip my shoulder pad, but is unable to inflict any significant damage on me, to which I quickly readjust my sights and lay three rounds into his body. Another bullet scrapes past my helmet as a duck, noticing that guards have taken up positions on the outer walls of the compound, firing at the general direction of our muzzle flashes. 'Fall back! There's too many of them!' Jarrod yells, a couple of yards further down the path than me. I sprint after him, discarding my empty rifle after spraying at the guards up on the wall, managing to hit one of them. We sprint into the darkness of the forest, gradually our boots covering more dirt than actual pavement the further we progress. My legs start to feel like jelly as the weight of the air tank, helmet and kevlar vest begin to set in, in which I promptly discard them behind me, the squelching of multiple pairs of boots not far behind encouraging us to sprint faster and further away.
Eventually, we reach a river that has a man-made wooden bridge. Luckily, the incline towards the river is not so steep or high, so we slide down it and hide underneath the bridge itself. We both lay back against the ridge, letting the guards pass over us. The guards eventually arrive at the bridge, in which they suddenly stop. I feel my heart drop as their footsteps echo around us, their flashlight attachments beaming circles of light near us as we huddle closer against the ridge. Jarrod begins to aim his pistol at one of the guards who carefully approaches our position, nothing of him is visible save for the bottom of his rifle and the lower half of his body. Suddenly, he and the rest of the men stop as their radio emits something in static yet muffled Romanian, prompting them to quickly return back to the compound with a swift turn of pace. Me and Jarrod breathe out a sigh of relief as Jarrod lays down his pistol onto the sandy ground beneath us, the river's icy water sliding around my boots and Jarrod's bare feet. Jarrod shivers as he retrieves the radio from his breast pocket, quickly muting it from the enemy's channel before changing the frequency to match HQ's. After a few minutes of fiddling around with it, we finally get a connection and a familiar voice.
'Who is this? This is a private signal. Identify yourself.' Good old Maxwell. I give a sigh of relief as Jarrod hands the radio to me, smirking. 'It's us,' I exhale, leaning back onto the surface of the dirt ridge. 'Jordan?' I hear Sakura ask as the headset is audibly passed to her, her soothing yet professional voice almost catching me off guard. 'Yep,' Jarrod replies, snatching the radio back from me. 'Would you mind sending someone to pick us up? I'd like a warm shower, to be honest.'
YOU ARE READING
My Classmate is a Killer (Unfinished)
Teen FictionSecrets are the root of lies and deceit. But what if the secret meant life or death? Jordan McDuff bears one of these secrets, being the youngest killer in the country. A former SAS Operative at 17, Jordan struggles to move on from his past life, be...
