Freedom Day

Chapter 9 - "Time Off"

...

The mission was to locate survivors and to neutralize any bad guy she came across. Her rifle was raised. She could see the poisonous, yellow smoke everywhere in the darkness. It was in the hallways, the windows, and the grass beneath her feet. The MOPP suit made it cumbersome to move, but that was not her worry. She was looking for anyone who was still alive. It had only been a few hours since the attack; some of the students must have slipped away in the chaos. Alas, she was alone. There was a foreboding sense of despair that she tried her best to ignore.

*crack*

She thought she stepped on a piece of glass. She raised her boot, and saw a broken smartphone on the ground beside a limp hand. It was a young woman with brown hair. Her sweater was a deep shade of red, marked with the sigil of the University. Her eyes were closed and her body was still. Curious, the soldier checked for a pulse. The poor girl was still breathing, albeit faintly. It was a sign of hope.

"Hold on, kid! I'll get you out of here!"

All she got from her was an incomprehensible mumble. Following standard procedures, the soldier brought out a rebreather mask from her pack and placed it on the kid's face, who gasped for air a moment after. Then, she hoisted her body over her shoulder and pressed on. With one survivor found, they needed to evacuate as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the soldier struggled to keep a steady running pace, weighed down by the equipment, the weapon, and the casualty she was carrying. Her eyes were wary of any danger; the terrorists were still out there, prowling for more victims. She did not see the errant rock on the ground, tripping her.

"Oof!"

The rifle-totting woman fell flat on her belly with a thud, and the girl she was carrying landed somewhere in front of her, disappearing into the smoke. Cursing under her breath, the soldier promptly got up on her feet and started looking. She spent minutes, hours, perhaps even days- it was easy to lose track of time. The mist grew darker and darker.

Out of nowhere, a hand darted out and grabbed her right arm. It was the girl. She was different. Face pale as snow and her dark hair was disheveled. The mask on her lips was gone and her breaths was raspy and pained. Her eyes were shot wide, filled with blood and tears. She was crying. She was horrifying.

"Help... Help... me..."

The soldier wanted to scream, but could not find her voice. This girl was no longer human. She aimed her FAMAS at the abomination and pulled the trigger, but it produced no bullets. She fumbled with the weapon, racking the charging handle and replacing the magazine, but it looked like the firing pin was jammed. The girl continued to plea, her voice was desperate and chilling, drawing closer.

Soon, the soldier was face-to-face with the monstrosity, who started clutching the fabric of her MOPP suit with rotten fingers. Her pale skin started chipping away like hot wax, revealing the blood-red bone underneath the dermis. The yellow mist started to permeate inside of the woman's suit, threatening to choke her with noxious fumes. It smelled like death. The stench did nothing to quell the horror in front of her, as the soldier's strength began to wane.

Then, there was a click at the back of her head. She let out a voiceless gasp. She could feel the touch of metal at the nape of her neck. The cold iron meshed with a sizzling heat from leftover powder.

It was a gun.

*BANG!*

Emmanuelle Pichon woke up. She was in her room, enveloped by darkness. Her body was drenched in sweat, as did the bedsheets. Her heart was racing fast, as if she just fought a desperate battle. The digital clock on the shelf told her that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. She was back to reality. Pausing for a few seconds to calm herself, she then got up and went to the bathroom. She flicked the lights on and opened the faucet to wash her face. The nightmare was over. She prayed it would be the last time, but her conscience told her otherwise. It was unfair.