Desolation Reigns

Chapter 9

A sticky substance with the unnatural hue of a dark red pooled on the ground soaking my hair. A bloody rain water stream slithered downwards of The Factory. Was the blood mine or someone else's? My head pained partially  by injury and the alarm ringing, only a little nicer than a concussion. Peeling skin on my hands from bracing my fall against the damp concrete now firmly pressed against my deafened ears. The brisk sharpness of the cold was dulled by the ongoing ear numbing ring of the Factory alarm. Bodies shook and squirmed next to me on the pavement while Adrienne held her belly, shielding anything inside from harm.

That alarm almost never goes off, and rightly so. The bell rings at the right pitch, causing some ears to bleed, brains to shutdown, and slight paralysis below the waist. The only reason anyone would ever ring that alarm was if...

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"

The police.

"DON'T MOVE OR I WILL NOT HESITATE TO FIRE"

Nonononono. I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong.Therainisgoodtherainisgoodtherainisgoodtherainisgoodtherainisgood.

BANG

Oh dear god! Help me

"WHAT DID I JUST FUCKIN' SAY?"

Oh my god who was it?

"WERE YOU DEAF, BITCH?"

Please don't be dead pleasedon'tbedead

"NOW,"the alarm stopped but the ringing was still there, taunting me." I Didn't Want To Have To Do That But Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures"

The cocking of another gun, this one was closer to me. Closer than I would've liked it to be. The gunman's clicking heels working their way to where my head rest until they towered over me, sticking their semi-automatic right in my face.

I could see the policeman now. Docked in black bulletproof vests, no skin was left uncovered by some kind of uniform cloth and a frightening gas mask of which i wished that they had no intention of using it.

When people use the phrase "stare down the barrel of a gun" as a motivator to be brave, i do not think they had ever been in my position. Staring down the barrel of a gun is not a sign of bravery. No. Its a sign of power and the fragility of your life like a baby bird in the hands of another. If i was found guilty of whatever they were looking for, i could have my own blood washed into gutters and down to the sewers.

I feel as though time has paused itself to torture me in my own mind and even though the policeman's face was covered, I know they were looking for some way to see the life drain from my eyes.

They left. They all left, but i did not dare move. I could not move. Dear God. Why can't i move my legs?

This is my escalation. I did not know why they were there and i was not allowed to ask. What kind of government lets their citizens die and live like this? All around me were coworkers and colleagues, lying on the concrete, in the puddles. Some paralyzed in fear, others paralyzed by the alarm. I slid my hand out, reaching for something, for someone. Ice cold fingers met mine in a tight grasp. Jerking my head around, after a few failed attempts, i saw my light.

Even in the rain, she still had a glow, maybe it was just the euphoria of being alive. Adrienne and pudgy belly was laying a few feet to my right, blood splattered on her face. Tear marks ran down her face, she must've been pretty close to where the gunman had shot.

My blood boiled, my anger consumed my very being and yet i did not show it. For Adrienne, of course. No longer will i stand for this. Screw my little "battles". What good are they?

No. This is War.