Half Way Home: Nobody's Hero

Chapter 3

Within days, the golden guns were in evidence around camp on the hips of Hickson's cronies. The 'enforcers' were responsible for ensuring that we kept up with the backbreaking schedule of work, which sapped our morale and left little energy for planning our escape.

Mica and I had agreed that we'd not do anything to draw unwanted attention or jeopardize our escape. But one night, recent events coagulated into a tragedy that precipitated our departure.

Hickson had organized for floodlights to be rigged so that we could work on into the evenings, which left us so tired that, more than once, I found myself falling asleep over my work on the launch pad.

On that fateful evening, Deacon and I were hunkered under the launcher, struggling to maneuver stubborn parts into place, when my head started to swim. I sat back, blinking to try and clear my blurred vision, but it didn't help. My legs felt like jelly as I struggled to my feet. "I need to get a drink," I said to Deacon, and staggered off in the direction of the mess tent.

He jumped up and ran after me, grabbing my shoulders. "Hang on, Peter, you'll have the guard after you. It's not long till shift ends — I'll cover for you till then."

I put my hands on my knees, trying to shake the cotton wool from my head, when a voice bellowed from the perimeter. "What's going on?"

"We were just going for a break," Deacon shouted back.

"No breaks allowed! Get back to work!" The enforcer strode towards us, waving his gun.

"But he's not feeling well," Deacon said, gesturing at me.

"I said, get back to work!"

Deacon turned to try and reason with the guard, but he'd only taken one step when there was a loud bang, and he staggered backwards with a dark red stain blooming across his shirt.

Nearby, someone started screaming, and the whole world seemed to go into slow motion as I struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. Deacon has been shot. My legs turned to water again as I realized that it had all been my fault.

Strong arms caught me from behind and I heard Mica's voice hiss in my ear, "I thought were were going to keep out of trouble?"

I nodded dumbly as she pulled me to the edge of the crowd. I couldn't stop staring at Deacon's crumpled body, and wondering how long it would be before they discovered that it should have been me who was shot for trying to take an extra break, not him.

With everyone else's attention on the drama at the launch pad, Mica was able to lead me into the shadows without anyone noticing. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking me up and down, her forehead wrinkling. "For a moment, I thought I'd lost you."

It was the first time she'd come close to admitting how she felt about me, and it made me smile, despite the severity of our situation. "I'm fine—" I started to say, and then turned at the sound of raised voices nearby. "We need to go," I whispered. "Now!"