Flight of the Phoenix (COMPLETED)

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

RUNNING. 

Grabbing Sarah; holding her head down.

Snaring Jacob's rifle.

Running.  To my left.

Gunfire whizzing over my head.

Running.  For the gate that means certain freedom.

Shouting.  Cursing.  Crying.  Yelling.  Swearing.  Vengeful voices.  Wisps of air all around.

Running.  Heart pounding.

Fear mounting.  Pushing Sarah in front of me.  Shielding her with my body.

Feet pounding into the ground.  Bodies falling.  Caravan engine roaring; rockets lifting it from the ground.

One of those two got away.

"Sarah!  You won't get away from this!"

That's his voice.

"Sarah go!"  I shove her in the direction of the wide open gate.  Into the waiting arms of people who do seem to care.  I finish my mission.

I do the one smooth motion that has become so much apart of me.  Ready weapon.  Finger on trigger.  Stuff in crook of left shoulder.  Aim.  For the intersection of his nose, forehead, left eyebrow, right eyebrow.  Lightly squeeze trigger.  Make sure bullet flies.  Turn around.

And fall on the ground after crashing together with a bullet from his gun.  I'm on my back.  Staring up at the perfectly blue sky with the clouds making shapes of various kinds.  I tilt my head away and down at my feet just enough to see Kevin Kohler drop to the dirt, face first, in mid-stride.  Pursuing and hurting Sarah no more.

The gunfire has stopped.  Cheers and slaps on the back resound everywhere.  But the noises fade.  I look to my destroyed left arm and know I have lost enough blood to leave this world.  But that's okay this time.  My mission is over.  And I finally succeeded.  It's such a relief.  Such a release.  Such a sweetness.  But is this prosperity?  If so, I still haven't experienced it.  And now, as I float, lighter and lighter, fly higher and higher above the crap that is this world, I realize everyone in my family knew what I will never know.  Prosperity comes from those who love you.  Not how they loved you.  But that they loved you at all.

After a while, exactly when doesn't matter considering time has no bearing on the dead, bliss is swapped for pain.  Joy for agony.  Gladness for sorrow.  Death for living.  After a few twitches of my eyelids, Sarah's kind eyes slowly depixelate into focus.  The tiny blocks become one smooth, unified image.  Above the eyes is her exquisite golden brown hair.  No matted clumps.  No dirt.  Just brushed back in her usual style.  The way I remember from when we were younger kids.  Her teeth smile at me.  I blink, even though my eyelids are very sore, and observe she's been crying.  Softly.  None of the racking sobs.  Sobs.  Retching.  Bent over.  Jacob.  Shane.  Kevin Kohler.  Chairman Julius Oren.  The last one got away.  I have failed.

A half complete mission might as well be failure.

The Chairman got away.  And I have no chance of finding him at the moment.  If I do decide to stay in this land of the living, I won't have the power to defeat him.  After all, I am just a fifteen-year-old boy.  One so weak as to be crippled by his own nightmares.  I still hold a small ball of fire fueled by my hatred of the second-most despised man on the planet.  The first-most now no longer alive.  But his death allowed the other to get away.  I swear that won't last for long.