Day Without June : a legend fanfic [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12

Shit.

I run as if I'm gonna die if I don't.

Wait, let me repraise that: I run BECAUSE I'M GONNA DIE IF I DON'T. I'm gonna die, Eden's gonna die, every goddy person I know is gonna die. As I run, my peripherial vision fades away and the noises around me muffles. I don't think of anything else except the movement of my legs.

And at one point, the military vehicles stop abruptly. I'm standing only a few houses away from my home, panting, trying to catch my breath. Soldiers and men in plague protective gears pile out of the vehicles. I hide at the nearest house's back porch, and sprint once again to my home.

I'm almost there. Just a few more seconds....a few more metres...

Then I hear the dreaded banging on the door, and I'm not the one who did that. I sneak a pick into the house now that I'm at the back door.

I don't like what I'm seeing...duh.

The soldiers are pouring into my house, pushing past Mom who's trying to stop them. John rushes out frantically, practically out of his mind. Eden's nowhere to be seen. Mom and John do their best to keep the soldiers outside, but they're too weak from hunger and they're too tired. The soldiers easily knock them down, and move on to search the rest of my house.

I watch the entire scene of this chaos as if I'm watching a video. My mind enters the state of flight, freeze, or fight. Unconsciously, I choose to freeze.

One soldier remains behind to handcuff Mom and John. They probably know that they can't escape this - they stay still. A few minutes later, the men with the protective gears carry Eden out on a stretcher. I can see how sick he is - worse than I ever thought, that's for sure.

He's carried out of the house, along with Mom and John...leaving the house empty.

My mind goes blank as I see and hear the front door shut close...I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I'm seeing. My hand shoots up, touching the little window of the back door. My forehead presses down against the door, just right above my hands.

Something warm and wet escapes my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. My vision blurs.

My emotions churn inside me, and I'm not sure what it is that I feel right now. Sadness, anger, determination, depression, sorrow, rage, hystery, blinded, dejected, lonely, petrified, anxious, distraught, resentful, combative, insecure, guilty, helpless, upset, furious.  I make a silent promise to the Republic.

I'm gonna kill you. I am gonna make you pay.

I move out of the street, lest those soldiers decide to search the area in their desperate attempt to accomplish the ultimate mission. I'm pretty sure that is to put me behind the bars - or rather, get me executed in public.

Either way works just fine. As long as I get humilated and beat up to pulps, they don't really mind how.

Yeah, note my sarcasm.

It's not everyday you see rogue soldiers drag your mother, brother and a sick kid away from you. It's not everyday you have a rogue nation hot on your tails. It's not everyday you are only one inch away from an immidiate death.

But it is for me.

I don't realize how hard I was clenching my fist until my hands wear out, and the medicine bottle slips out of my hand. It hits the ground with a little bang, and bounces up. Then it falls again, bounces up, falls and then finally, rolls away.

I used up half of my money to get the cure.

Now it's all useless.

But who ever said that the cure would work, anyways? Who is the Republic, for me to trust them? I don't get it. If they were going to abandon their people like this, why not just fricking surrender to the Colonies?

Hold on, I know the anwer: because they are the Republic.  Dumb, selfish, power-hungry. That's why.

I pick up the bottle from the ground.

The sirens of the military vehicles fade away and finally the silent fills the air. I press down my playboy cap deeper, and walk down the streets. I need to get to the safety. They probably know how I look like, and if they spot me on the streets, they'll make such a big show of arresting me, probably by putting a bullet or two in my body just to show the people that they are big bad trigger-happy trots.

Then I'll be treated like shit until get transported to Batalla Hall, kicked, punched, and slapped, with insults coming along with the physical abuse, just as a free generous service for their VIP. And when they have me behind the bars, I'll be treated like even worse shit, until they decide to use which nasty and violent method to kill me, along with how to abuse my human rights the most until my execution.

Oh, I can just guess what they'd do.

They'll use my family, just to see how much I hurt, and tell my mom, "Oh, you didn't know your precious son who's supposed to be dead was alive? You see how he doesn't even care about you? After he escaped our labour camp he didn't even care enough to help you out of that miserable life. He just let you bear the sadness of losing your son...and guess how he is? Day. You hear me? Day, the most wanted criminal of the Republic. Great son you've got there, slum."

I hope they will do it right in front of me, so at least I can make the attempt of beating the shit out of that soldier...or so I can at least bring down one life with me. And also so I can see my family before I die...maybe if I plead, I'll even get to hug them for the last time before I get executed. But even if I don't, at least I know I'll be with them, since we'll be both in Batalla.

...we'll be both in Batalla.

I smirk at my thoughts.

The soldiers are this close to killing me - that's for sure. But I still have this much of time left. And I intend to use it wisely - for revenge. I'm going to make them pay. 

I got skills, I got enough money to buy some new fancy equipments to make my job a whole lot easier and make their job a whole lot harder. I've been doing this for the past five years, what's to stop me from doing one more? What have I got to lose?

Only this time, I'll have much more stuff than I've ever had before. Only this time, I'll be much more prepared.

Slowly, I begin to speed up.