{finis - the end as we know it.}
THREE DAYS, FOUR HOURS AND THIRTEEN MINUTES EARLIER
y/n's pov:
The night was somber. My mood had penetrated the air around me, infecting the camp with my own desperation and trepidation.
I could hear campers in the distance, laughing and giggling amongst themselves as they sat around the fire.
They were clinking their glasses together, smiling as they took long sips from their pints of beer. The frothy moustaches that sat upon their upper lip made them laugh harder, and for a second, my mouth turned upwards.
Over our time spent here, so much joy had managed to wiggle its way into the walls of this camp. People feel safe here - they find solace in the fact that the walls around us are tall and strong.
But I'm realising now that none of that matters, because no one's safety can ever be guaranteed.
I pick up the shovel, and continue to dig.
The ground was tough; it didn't give way even after a few minutes of clattering at the floor, but even with the loud sound I was making, no one took notice.
So, I just kept digging.
After a while, I had started to make a dent - not deep enough that uncovering it would take too long, but enough to ensure no one would stumble across it accidentally.
And then, there I was, in the middle of the night, burying guns and ammo in the dirt.
I saved the most important for last, of course.
I placed the flail on the top of the pile, sighed, and tossed the loose dirt beside me over it.
It blanketed it nicely, covering the weapons to a degree where I was certain they wouldn't be found, and then I stood, dusted off my trousers and walked back to the firing range.
–
PRESENT DAY
Whilst my eyes adjusted and my hearing returned, I shoved myself to my feet, stumbling around the shards of shattered glass and smouldering wood.
The soldier to my right remained incapacitated by the explosion, his back turned to me as he groaned loudly.
In this moment I could have easily just reached for his gun, executing him immediately, but funnily enough that was not my initial thought.
My chains were around his throat in an instant, constricting his breathing as I tightened the shackles until they could stretch no further. His hands came up to stop me, smacking me pathetically in the face while he gasps breathlessly into the night air.
His face began to turn shades of blue and purple with the lack of oxygen, while his body contorts and twists, desperate to get away.
He scratches at the chains around his neck, scrambling to put some distance between the metal and himself, but by this point it was too late, and I could feel his body begin to turn limp.
He wrenched forward for his final trying breath, once again unsuccessfully, and ultimately succumbs to his painful demise.
I fall back, away from the dead man before me, suddenly out of breath.
His leg twitches, and I pray that it was just a muscle spasm. I reach over his corpse hurriedly, searching the man's pockets for a key.
After digging through four of his pockets, I find a small silver key and scramble to unlock my chains.
