Annihilation

Counting

I had to calm myself in an instant to avoid showing signs of distress. If my exterior and interior expressions had been in line you would have seen sweat on my brow, a grit in my jaw, trembling hands. Instead, I became a steele wall, aware of any sound. There was none within range, but the rest of his men could already have the others, surrounding the camp and leaving me to him. Or my people could be steps away, untouched and seconds away from slitting Gideon's throat.

"On your knees." He demanded, humor still hanging on his every word. My eyes moved rapidly, scanning the treeline for any movement.

They would come. Jungkook would come.

When I didn't move to follow his instruction he pushed down on my shoulder, tapping the back of my knee with the heel of his boot so that I went down by force.

Gideon was mouthy, rambling on while patting me down beneath my clothes. He discarded every weapon, hidden blades tucked into my shoe, the waistband of my pants, between my breasts.

"It's funny. I remember things like this before the world went to shit. I'd lose my keys, look for them for hours. The moment I stopped would be the one that I found them. Now, as soon as I stop looking for you, here you are." He chuckled at the irony.

I opened my mouth to scream. I should scream.

The sound was trapped in my throat, the thought that there were more of his men surrounding the area preventing me from calling out for help. I was suddenly hoping they wouldn't come. We didn't have enough weapons to take on the armory Gideon kept, not anymore.

He'd kill me. If not now, eventually. Either way, I'd die, and I had one chance to get away, to run so that he and whomever of his men lurked in the shadows would be led away from our camp.

"I was always hoping for Shelby." The sound of her name on his tongue left a foul taste in my mouth. He made a point of shoving the tip of his gun into my hair, so careless with its use that I wondered if it would discharge without intention. His other hand was out of sight, leaving me blind to his actions until I could feel his attempt to bind my wrists together.

He knelt behind me for easier access to my wrists. The rope was thick, the knotting as expert as those the others had me practice until the threads made my hands raw.

With my hands immobile he chanced lowering his gun. I scanned the woods again. There was no one.

A downward glance to my right side revealed that he held his weapon without much concern that I may overpower him. My opportunity lay in a single second.

My gaze was already downcast. I used the entirety of my force to drive my head backwards, the couple of inches that made up our height difference providing the perfect positioning to connect with his nose, the small crunch not enough to break but to stun for a momentary opening.

The assault didn't put him off balance, but he dropped his gun, the hand reaching to feel at the blood that dripped from his nostrils.

I was already on my feet. Even with my hands bound I was fast, sprinting toward the horizon.

A gunshot rang out behind me. If I'd been hit I didn't know, but there was noise. One set of footsteps, a bit slower and another, lighter and gaining on me with every step.

My shoulder snapped at the impact of a tackle from my right. Our bodies moved together, landing a couple of feet away with a thump. It knocked the wind out of me, a hit so intense that every sound of pain dissipated into a gasp.

I turned over with a groan, crying out with my next breath of air. My strength was depleting but I lifted onto my elbows, sneering at the sharp sting from the pressure on my arm.