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5 • Izzy

5.

The minute I heard the oak doors click shut behind us, my instincts screamed danger. The way every citizen's door was shut, even though most left them open during the day. Curtains were pulled closed. There was an unnatural silence hanging heavy, which for some reason seemed to make me want to make some sort of noise, to disturb it all. Children were usually outside at this time, trying to find an odd colored pebble, or really anything to keep them occupied. Afterall, what else was expected of them?

Since I was always the one to walk in the open, the others walking silently in the shadows to remain unseen, I stopped and took a left toward the eerie alley no one ventured in, which was unplanned. Once I went off route, the others would surely know there was a problem, if they hadn't already noticed how strange everything was. Colton, Ashton, Miles and Fray into sight and stopped to listen to my concern.

"This whole town is off, somethings going to happen, and it's coming soon. We should keep going, but be cautious. Don't make yourself known." With that, I turned around and headed in the direction of the market, which had the largest scrap pile in the back, furniture, expired food, and almost everything we needed. The only disadvantage was that defenders would roam along the street like a pack of stray dogs. We would need a diversion, especially if we were going to "borrow" a desk, which amazingly can't fit into your pockets, shocking I know. My hood covered my most prominent feature, my hair along with casting a shadow over the top half of my face. It was rare now a days to have hair truly black. I would be immediately identified if someone saw me with it hanging freely.

I stared down to look at my boots as a cover up, but also a habit. The cobble stone road was laced with murky watered puddles, matching perfectly with the similarly depressing buildings housed with the poor families. Taking two more steps, I glanced up and it settled in that there was no one to blend in with. The usually crowded street surrounding the market was empty, not even a defender in sight. Confused, I stopped, and did a 360. No one. The market was closed too, the sign barely showing through the dirty window. Which was ok, even though a little odd, because we just needed to head behind it where the scrap pile was located.

The bright light that flickered in the corner of my eye burned too bright to be one of the street lamps. Turning my gaze that way, my heart sped up. At the end of the alley was a group of average people, the ones you would normally see on the streets, with torches and a few even held crow bars.

A riot.

The realization of what was taking place hit me hard. At first I was sure it was small scale, but there seemed to be at least two or three hundred men and women. We didn't start this one, and we haven't started a riot since...since mom was shot. I push the thoughts to the back of my mind and snap my attention back to the crowd. At seeing us, they began to charge straight for us, wait scratch that, straight for me. Miles was still hidden, and the others were searching for the supplies. I indeed did look like a defender, wearing all black and combat boots. Letting out an ear piercing whistle that signaled abandon the scavenge, I turned as fast as I could and began to run. My breath made wispy puffs form, and my eyes began to water as the chilly wind whips into my face. The crowd's angry curses and shouts were beginning to come closer, and I only seemed to slow down.

Skidding to a halt, I could make out a dark mass ahead of me. The form came closer at a quickening rate, and as it traveled father towards me, I made out the shields in front, along with the occasional machine gun. I had an angry riot directly behind me, and the defenders in front. The buildings blocked my escape, and since everyone had boarded up their doors, I couldn't take shelter.

"Izzy!" The voice belonged to Miles who was approximately 15 feet behind me. His laboured breathing could be heard from here, and his expression was calm, opposite of mine. As he sprinted towards me, the rioters and the defenders, neared too.

"We need to go! We are going to be killed!" My voice was frantic, he nodded in understanding. Our best option was to run back to the market and go the back way, like the others had. Doing a synchronized 180, we ran toward the rioters who seemed to grow more infuriated that we were running towards them. Speeding up, they were directly in front. Most continued to the defenders, but 2 burly men let out a few angry curses at us and leaped. Flipping out my knife, I drove it into flesh in his leg of the first man. But it was somehow deflected by armor under his clothes. He flashed me a toothy smile, then landed a punch in my abdomen. Pain swelled inside of me, which only enraged me further. As he tried to strike again, I blocked it and twisted his wrist with all my strength. He let out a pained yelp, and bent down. I was positive I hadn't hurt the poor bastard that much, and I laid off for a short minute.

Big mistake. He grabbed the knife I had dropped, and wielded it straight towards my chest. Swerving out of the way, I tried to kick him the groin, he easily side stepped out of the way and drove my knife into my thigh. The curved tip made it even worse, when he tore it out, it sliced an enormous gash that gushed out blood. The blood curdling scream that filled the air, sounded nothing like me, so it took me a moment to realize it was indeed mine. I collapsed onto the cold ground and clutched my wound as dark crimson blood spilled and mixed with a puddle. My vision began to cloud at the edges from the pain, and before he drove the knife into my chest, the wind pulled my hood back. My hair, even though in a pony tail, swayed with the wind. Gasping he stepped back taking in who I was, and took off.

The deafening sounds that filled the air were anguished screams, and the blast of machine guns. My head was spinning in circles, my thoughts pooled together and I could only think of pain. The way it ripped into you and stole your common sense, how it made you only think of your pitiful needs.

Wait, Miles! I had forgotten that he too was still here, possibly injured. I couldn't just lay here, practically begging to be trampled, so instead I bit my lip against the throbbing pain and stood. Ice seemed to shoot up my leg, then heat replaced it, setting my thigh on fire. But I took the first few steps and analyzed the situation. Men and the few women were hurling themselves onto the defenders, while few were successful in injuring the struggling defender, most were thrown onto the ground with a bullet wound in their chest. The citizens were losing quickly, whether they realized it or not, very soon they all would either be killed, or taken in for interrogation.

In the midst of all the chaos, I spotted a man fling another man against a wall. The victim had sandy hair, and the athletic build of the one I was seeking, Miles. I could make out a yell, the sound of his strained voice.

"Izzy! Run! Find your f-" there was a garish cut off that made me panic even more.

"No!" I hobbled as speedy as my leg could take, and squeezed through the remaining fighters. As I neared the man, I noticed the pool of blood beginning to form around his head. Tears welled up and clung to my eyelashes. His skin was ashen from losing the blood, and his heart no longer beat, nor did he take a breath.

Miles was dead, and I was alone.