Soul Survivor

Chapter 3

Slowly, I rise to my knees and then stand upright. I hear a faint murmur. "Where are you?" I whisper and limbo around some shrubs. "...Help."

I follow the sound until I discover its source. Lying, slumped against a budding tree, is Sammie. "Oh..." I keep my voice low and my breath comes out in uneven clouds like a steam train running along slippery winter tracks. She is missing an arm and has a bullet wound in her stomach. Punding, my chest feels like it implodes. Waterfalls of crimson liquid spurt from her shoulder. "Oh Sammie..." My voice begins to tighten and my legs tremble. Tears threaten to blur my eyesight but I blink them away. One breaks free and rolls down my face. I watch as it falls to the earth. Crouching beside her, I ask "Sammie, what happened, I thought you escaped with group 2?" My voice is strangled. "Yeah, group one got away, but half of our group didn't make it that far." A small stream of scarlet trickles from the side of her mouth. She is so pale, like a living ghost... almost. "What about Jane, did she help you?" I feel bad for questioning her, but I have to know. "She's fine. We got out. She had the sense to leave immediately. She tried to persuade me, too, but I wanted to try to help the others. So I stayed. I told her to go, and so she left. I should have listened; someone with a leg injury can't be of assistance to anyone." She smiles weakly. "No, don't say that. You were - are - a hero. You tried to do the right thing and she acted selfishly. She shouldn't have left you."

"I- I'm glad, I get to spend my last moments with you." Sammie starts to cry. Tears flow from my eyes too. "Remember all the great things we did together? Like when we used to go window shopping, and make fun of everybody? Or when we played novelty football for charity? And all those amazing parties?" I brush a strand of mousey brown hair behind her ear. My hand is shaking. "Yeah, those were the days." She coughs once, splattering herself with more blood, and all her muscles relax. Except for a faint grin. Her hazel eyes glaze over, the life drained from her once beautiful face. They look like the same eyes the girl with the red plait had. "No, no, Sammie? Sammie! Come back! Don't leave me, please. I don't know what to do. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!" I'm full out sobbing. Shaking her petite, lifeless corpse. Tears flow like a tsunami. I grip a fistful of soil and scream. I wish I could do something. I wish I could have helped...

I wish.

Gently, I close her eyelids for the last time. "Goodbye." I sniff and stand up. Quicker than a lightning bolt, I shoot to my feet and stagger towards the school gates, which have now been ripped apart to a point near non-existence. Black spots fly around my vision and my head pounds. I must move; wiping diamond droplets from my eyes with a dirty hand. I must survive now.

Where will I go? I want to go home.

My family should be there, it is summer after all. My lousy school breaks for summer holidays a week after everyone else, how unfair can they get? I shoot down a maze of streets which I used to know: the whole town looks so different now, it's as if I'm in another dimension. I gallop through bushes and leap over fallen trees. I want to get a better view of the situation. If I can see how much damage there is, and what important buildings have been targeted I can avoid possible danger.

I jog to a standstill. Looking around, I am surrounded by houses. Most of them have too much damage - great holes in the walls or caved in roofs. I spot a drainpipe snaking up a townhouse. Perfect. However, when I walk over to the brick giant I realise it may not be so easy. How am I going to climb this?

I recall a memory from my time in junior school. Our school had a set of climbing apparatus for when we did P.E. I loved climbing the ropes. Me and another boy, Jim, would compete to see who could climb the highest or who could touch the ceiling the quickest. Some days, I would just sit at the top of a rope and watch the rest of the class. Eventually, my teacher would get angry that I wasn't doing anything and shout for me to climb down. Multiple times I scared her by letting go of the rope and falling halfway, where I would grip the mid-point knot and swing down.

It's been a while since I did anything like that because in secondary school, we don't have ropes. Well, it's worth a shot anyway. I slip my hands around the black drainpipe and clamp my feet onto the sides. My hands let go to move higher but my shoes have no grip and slide off. Back to square one. When I climbed the ropes, it was always bare footed... here goes nothing. I tug off the leathery things that cling to my feet and pull off my socks too. I never knew feet could smell that disgusting. I sweat more from my feet than my armpits.

Once more, I latch on to the drain and begin to climb. This time, I'm successful. It feels good to climb again - scootching upwards. I feel the burn in my arms, it pleases me. I guess I've missed it. Dirt sticks to the sweat on my extremities. That's a bit gross, I admit; but I'd rather be climbing dirt than stuck dead somewhere nobody will find me. My mind drifts to Sammie. The look in her vacant eyes haunts me.

I reach the top and haul myself onto the roof. First crouching to gain balance, then rising to face the wind. A tile is displaced by my weight but I lift my clammy foot in time for it to come crashing to the ground and shatter on the tarmac. The view is astonishing. Warm sunlight heats my face and bare arms. Even though it's summer the weather isn't all that pleasant. It would have been a beautiful day, if the landscape before me wasn't so dramatic. For as far as my eyes can see, everything has been destroyed. Trampled by destruction - mountains of broken lives and fallen trees. Smoke pours from every building and every crater. But there still doesn't seem to be a cause.

A hunch tells me the Military is to blame, but there's no motive. If it's not them then surely they know what they're dealing with. Could the cause be rebel fighters? I've seen them on the news in other countries but all those countries had problems with their government or politics or something similar. As far as I am aware, my home country is secure on the political front.

There aren't any safe zones. I'll just have to risk it. Hide, run and - if it comes to it - fight. At least I'm quite strong. Tougher than most girls both emotionally and physically. Maybe I'm just arrogant...