We are walking into the village and the distant gunshots make Luke stop dead in his tracks. His eyes touch mine and I know he is serious and I am panicking. He grabs my hand and we sprint off into the square. A boy, no a young man, is being held down to the ground. The guards stand next to him and one is crouched down on top of him. He has his knee jutting into his prisoners back and is pulling him upright with his arms. It looks painful and I wince.
10 or so bodies lay to the side, fanning out around the group. They are either dead or going that way. Clothes are blood soaked and the stench and the shouts are burying me. I shake my head and fight for control. I tell myself it will be ok and that it won't be nearly as bad as last time. I know I am lying and I am disgusted by myself.
Luke is running towards the prisoner and I see the guards raise their guns. In slow motion I watch them breathe in, aim, breathe out and fire. My intricacy is broken and I watch Luke crash to the ground and the shouts of blinded soldiers fill the air. I am running towards him. I am screaming his name. A guard approaches me and tells me if I get up and walk away they will not kill me. They are liars.
I stand up. I am Sky. I will not back down. I step over Luke. I stand and face the soldier. He is my age. I pity him. He reaches for me and I dive between his legs, outwitting and surprising him. I reach the prisoner before they come out of their stunned state. I ask his name. Calum, he tells me. I am reaching for the hand he managed to free. I am going to help him. I will not be a coward for once.
The barrel of a gun is pressed against my temple. Its coldness makes me shiver. I watch Calum be dragged away and bundled into the back of a mobile unit. He is creaming but I am deaf to everything apart from the insistent whisper in my ear. It tells me he doesn't want to shoot me. He pleads and begs with me to give him an excuse not to. He hisses more and more until a crack is fired and he slumps against my side. I shrug him off like a cloak. His commander is speaking.
That man was a coward, he shouts with unnecessary force. That is what happens to cowards. I look at the boy lying twisted. His pelvis points to the floor but his head is face up. I know he is dead and cannot see me but his eyes are still looking at me. He begins to spurt a red substance and some stray drops land on my cheek. I do not wipe them away until I realise it is blood. The corpse jumps with every bullet. I shrink away with every crack.
He walks up to me and his face is face is ruddy and fat. His moustache is bristly and I feel sorry for his wife. I would hate to have to kiss that every night. On further contemplation I come to the conclusion that he probably doesn't have a wife and even if he does, he probably doesn't love her. Kneel down, he asks me. No, I reply. Do as you are told, he retaliates back. I will not kneel to you in submission because I am not a coward, I spit back in his face.
He nods to someone behind him and I hear the crack. I feel the bullet come towards my back, where my heart beats. Isn't the human body so destroyable? I faintly realise that the bullet will probably hit my pulmonary artery. It will puncture the tube and my oxygen won't reach my brain. My body will begin to shut down. My limbs won't be able to function and I will probably begin to fall before I am properly dead. My heart will shut down and my brain will close off. I am proud of myself for not screaming.
The pain starts slowly and grows to the heat of a pottery furnace. It is inescapable to the point where it commands you to succumb to its force. I do. I keel over gasping for breath that will be wasted. My eyelids slowly close and I am falling. I am falling through a never ending hole, like in the white rabbit story I once read when I was little. I imagine that I will land on a pillow. I feel myself doubting it even as I think it.
