Staying Under The Radar

10| Watchdogs

10| Watchdogs
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Play the song about halfway down, when you get to the counting part. Feel free to enter your playlist here ~>

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One minute we were laughing and talking, the next minute silence filled the air. Time seemed to slow down. The atmosphere filled with faint beeps of cars, the hum of an engine, and the faint beating of two hearts.

Handling his type of situation: where you're being shot at, was not my forte. I'm usually the one behind the gun,exercising my fingers. There's one thing for definite though, you have to be quick on your feet to avoid getting a nice giant hole somewhere on your body and dying. Dying is always, most definitely the worst part and maybe having a unique jewellery collection stored in your chest.

Tonight with the amount of alcohol consumed, being quick was like trying to tell a mute person to talk louder. It just wasn't happening.

"Amber! You need to get out of there!" Gabe screamed in my ear. When did he get there? I grabbed my ear and winced at the loudness. I think that the silver rockets launching my way was enough for me to realise that.

To say I was drunk was an understatement. I was gone. Maybe a little tipsy, but still not my usual self. This is why I don't drink. Yet, it hasn't even been a full week and I've already inhaled half a liquor store.

The sound of the second gunshot whizzing past my ear was enough for me to sober up to point where I realised: that not only do I have to get myself out of this game of dodge the bullets, but also the gulping frog next to me, Alex. This is just a wonderful night. The next time someone says they just want to 'chill', I will stick them into a freezer or send them to Antarctica. This was not chilling, this was being hunted.

I stared wide eyed at Alex, and he at me. Although, it looked like his eyes were about to fall out and get a close up of the ground.

It may have only been a second or two, but it seemed like running became walking on a treadmill. We were just treading, our actions delayed. Who just stands there when they are being shot at? We were basically sitting ducks with a large sign painted on us saying: 'Easy targets.'

Enough time had passed and we were still alive. I wanted to remain alive longer, especially because I needed to change the password on my joint Netflix account with 'the one that shall not be named'. I grabbed Alex, pushing him with all my might behind a nicely parked Mercedes. The insurance will cover it. Hopefully, it's rimmed wheels would service more justice than just a display feature.

Realisation hit me, and this was happening a lot tonight, but most importantly - I didn't have my gun with me. Tonight was supposed 'to be simple,' he said. 'Make friends,' he said. When I get a hold of Gabe, I will surely decorate him in nice bruises.

"Those your friends?" I whisper shouted to Alex. "Because last I checked, 'the British are always polite!'"

"I swear I don't know who they are!"

I was about to educate him about languages of foulness and unladylike words, when I heard Gabe once again.

"Amber, there's an alley way a couple feet away on your left. When I give you a say so, run for it."

Alex and I were crouched on the floor. I peeked my head over the back of the car, I saw a shooter wearing a mask. The dim street light casted a long shadow from his body making him appear a lot closer than he actually was.