lockdown - c.h. {on hold}

two : 2133

Calum beckons for me to hurry out of the alley. Here it is light. Whether that is good or bad is hard to decide; on the one hand, we can see clearly where we are going, but then so can anyone who may be a threat to us and our safety.

We scurry like dirty rats along the edges of walls, stopping every time we hear some far-off shout or gunshot, halting at every junction. We are taking no risks. From the many Purges I have had to endure, I have learnt that stealth and caution are much more protective than bravado and eye-catching behaviour, and I could tell Calum knew the same things. I wonder how many Purges he has lived through, not as a bystander, but as an active part of the damage it causes. Does he do it out of necessity? Revenge? Hatred? Or does he do it to survive? There are many things I do not know about this boy, yet I am placing all of my faith, my confidence in his protection of myself and Oscar. 

He motions for me to come over as he crouches down behind a dumpster in the middle of an abandoned street, next to the shadowy entrance to a dingy alleyway. I go over and join him, resting my back against the wall as I catch my breath and listen to his muted voice, barely audible with his deep resonation and hushed tones.

"This area of the city isn't safe. There are many gang residencies around here, even when it isn't the Purge. We need to get out of here as quick as possible if we want to make it out alive. Most of the violent groups don't come out until around eleven at night. That leaves us with," he glances down at his battered watch, with the cracked screen and dim phosphorous light "just under an hour and a half. So we've got to move fast if we want to survive."

"So what do you suggest?" I ask him in the same muffled tone.

"I know a cafe about two miles from here that I've used as a safe spot for years now. If we can make it there, we should be okay."

"Sounds perfect, I'll follow your lead."

He stands up quickly, steadying himself on the crumbling wall behind us.

"Let's g-" 

Before he can finish his words, a smatter of gunshots ricochet, sounding much closer than ones previously. Calum dives back down behind the dumpster, his hands covering his head, pulling Oscar and I next to him. I push Oscar down between us, keeping him hidden but also lessening the noise in order not to frighten him and cause him to make a scene.

 By now, the gunshots are accompanied by screams of twisted adrenaline as well as exclamations of pain and death. Oscar begins to cry, and I clutch him to me, muffling both his loud gasping sobs and attempting to soothe him. 

The gunshots are louder. Too loud. They are deafening, exploding right next to where we are nervously hiding.

Suddenly, there is a high pitched scream, a wail, that drowns out all of the surrounding noise. It is a primeval cry of an animal fatally wounded. A hauntingly beautiful sound that resonates like a violin being played against the bow in an empty music hall. A screeching cry of pain. All sound ceases, and all I can hear is the seemingly clamourous breathing of myself, Oscar and Calum as we crouch down in trepidation and fear, and the pumping of my blood in my ears.

A masculine shout echoes along the alley next to us, a shout of malevolent victory, a shout of someone cheating death by convincing him to take someone else in their place. We jump. This silence is too loud, the man's shout just enhances it further.

We daren't move. A minute or so passes, and then, one final gun shot, followed by the silence found in cemeteries on a dark, dismal day. We collect ourselves, and prepare to stand up, our decisions made through eye glances and subtle hand gestures that it would be safer for us to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from whatever is happening down the alley next to us.