Falling Skies
I
A Beatle’s song was playing. An old one. I could hear it, I just couldn’t pinpoint its exact location, and that bothers me. Maybe it’s in my head, I don’t know. It probably is, which isn’t a good sign because all the electricity is out as far as I know. I was breathing heavily, crouching in that corner. They might hear me. I took the kitchen knife I had stolen from an abandoned house and pressed it to me chest, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to steady my breaths. Then I heard the clicking. That sound they make when they walk. My eyes snapped open, my heart quickened and my breath staggered once again. It was getting closer. There was nowhere to go in this warehouse, it was like one big box and I was hiding behind a little box. Like in geometry. I always liked geometry. I gripped my left wrist, the one that broke during the last attack here. My knuckles were white I was gripping the knife so hard. It was right in front of the crate I was sitting behind. I could sense it. That means it could sense me too. I leaped up in front of it to where it was leaning over, looking at me. We stared at each other for a while then I lunged. I stuck my knife deep into its brain, from the roof of its mouth. I had to use both of my hands, so my wrist was on fire. I could hear my scream but wasn’t aware I was doing it until after it fell to the ground. I almost collapsed, I was out of breath and my dark hair was in my face. My first thought was I have to leave before more come. I ran to the entrance, holding my wrist after I slipped my knife into my belt. I slowly opened the door, and saw a whole camp of them. I shut the door. I ran to the center of the warehouse, looking for an exit, wondering how the other ones didn’t hear my scream. And then, I spotted a window. Perfect. I moved a crate with one hand to the wall and jumped up on it. I opened the window and put one leg over to see how long the fall was. About ten feet. No problem. But with one hand lowering me down? I don’t know. I put the other leg out so I was now sitting on the ledge of the window. I started to slowly lower myself with one arm. It was so hard I felt like my whole arm would pop off. Then I slipped and my reflexes took over. My left hand shot up to catch me and I was instantly hit with pain and regret. I was three feet off the ground, so I let go. I drew in and let out a sharp breath, gripping my wrist. I figured I couldn’t do anything about it until I found a new place to stay. So I started running again. That’s one thing I’m good at, running. I didn’t stop until I was more than half way into the woods that surrounded the warehouse. I had to keep going. They had to have heard me by now. So I kept running, running, running. When I felt like I might throw up, I collapsed into a heap of tired, and sweaty girl onto the forest floor. I leaned my back up against the nearest tree, and just sat there. I tried to catch my breath and failed miserably by chocking on my saliva. My throat was burning; I must have been running for two hours without slowing. Now that the adrenalin is gone, I have no energy or food. No food no calories. No calories no energy. I haven’t had water for a day now, so I have approximately two days left. That’s not a lot. Tomorrow, I tell myself tomorrow we look for supplies, now we rest. And that’s exactly what I did.
I woke up sucking in a breath of hot stale air, my body covered in cold sweat. It must have been nightmares; I cant remember. Okay, hot sweat must be a factor of dehydration right? Chapped lips? Check. Definitely dehydrated. I figured this in my head while I walked around, listening for animals, running water, skitters. I was getting weak; I could feel it in my legs. They might buckle at any minute, I wasn’t sure. I could only breath with my mouth open, because my tongue was so dry. I was barely producing any saliva. I reached up to feel my forehead with my good hand only to find it sweaty and hot. Not good, not good, I thought I need to find water, or this is it. I was starting to get tired, my eyes were dropping, and my lungs were dry. It was like I was breathing in dust and I could feel each little particle hit my throat and lungs. My sight started to blur when I saw something move in my peripheral vision. It looked like an old man, but the way he carried himself made him seem younger. I didn’t have time to assess what or who was following that man because I was on the ground and blacked out.
