Prologue
I hear a faraway bell ringing. Then it becomes clearer. As if it is moving towards me. I realize it wasn't just one bell. Multiple bells from different directions and distances, coming after me.
I opened my eyes. Carnage is evident all throughout the landscape. I can't see a thing that would soothe my bewilderment. Everywhere I see blood, smoke and fire.
Then I remembered.
I, together with others who scream the injustice of the government, or just want to go home from this place of never ending bloodbath until the victors are announced and are the sole survivors.
I was on a diversionary team sent out to confuse the front lines. To overpower the incoming retaliation from our defiance against their rules.
A plan that went wrong the moment we opened fire.
They were prepared for the assault, and are now hunting us leisurely. A comrade suddenly backstabbing another friend.
And suddenly all hell breaks loose as some of us try to resume the bloodbath, a desperate shot for survival. For the death of all others may give a chance of still being crowned as a winner.
A desperate idea, but a practical one.
I realized that I have to find my colleagues.
Those that conspired with me to bring down this sick government. The same organization that have their vehicles running to get me. They are the ones with the Bell-type sounds. I thought , panicking.
I managed to get up, inch by painful inch. I was wounded just a bit, odd scratches here and there and a painful one on the shoulder, bandaged but soaked in blood. When I stood up, I took in the full picture of the place I was in; some of my friends and the enemies' bodies strewn on the ground, their weapons still clutched tightly between their rigid arms. Some are decapitated. Some have arrows and swords protruding from their bodies. One of them seems to be still alive. Still alive, I realized. I ran to her side.
She was groaning a bit before I knelt before her.
She was staring into the sky. The look of relief flashes across her face when she saw me. Then she closed her eyes and smiled. A smile so peaceful you'd think she's done for.
But no. It can't be.
I have to get her somewhere safe. I thought urgently, disregarding the thought of how to address the wounds and the chance of survival we've got against hundreds, probably thousands of soldiers in the vehicles.
As I heaved her arm over my shoulder, she opened her eyes and mouthed, "water". She wants to drink. I did a quick inspection of my pockets and compartments. I found a small bottle, screwed open the cap hurriedly, and poured the contents into her mouth. She gave a grateful nod towards me. We should go. They are approaching with unbelievable speed. But she seemed unwilling to, giving me a hard time supporting her, tripping both of us, and generally giving me a hard time escaping with her.
Suddenly she whispered, soft and sweet, into my ear: "Leave me. Just go on."
"NO! I WON'T!" I don't know why the frustration building up inside me suddenly took form in words. But seeing that calm, smiling face, telling me to go on and leave her to die, as if she's accepted that fate when she drank from my bottle.
"I WON'T." I repeated firmly. I won't be leaving her. I would stay with her; make sure that if one of us should die, it would be me. It should be.
Anytime soon, the soldiers will be upon us, wielding swords and spears to inflict the greatest pain imaginable or just simply shoot us through the head if we're lucky enough.
