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SHE STARED UP AT THE FLARES THAT LIT UP THE NIGHT SKY. Her heart hammered against her rib cage as she glanced back and forth to each side of them. Broken buildings surround them at every angle. The light of the flare creates shadows, playing tricks on their eyes - especially to a barely conscious Schofield. He gives a rough blink, trying to force his eyes to focus. He can't lead them if he can't see. Memories of the bunker flood his mind. His arms tightly wrapped around his friends as they practically carried him out of the collapsing bunker. He trusted them, and now one of them was dead. But she was still here, still fighting. And she trusted him, he knew it.
"What's the plan?" She whispers. Her grip on Blake's rifle is tight, but her finger remains far from the trigger.
"We have to go through." He whispers back. Waving his hand, he begins stumbling out of the lock house. With a huff of air, she quickly follows beside him. She watches him from her peripheral, making sure he doesn't fall to the ground. The shadows around them shift and move as the flare falls to the ground. He winces as the light reflects from the puddles, almost blinding him.
A crack erupts from behind them. Both nearly jump out of their boots. "We need a new plan." Mags exclaims as they begin to pick up their pace. They're sitting ducks in an open field. Buildings may surround them, but they're walking directly through, what used to be, a street. His hand grabs hers, pulling her as they begin to run. Another gunshot fires behind them, clipping the building to their left.
The flare finally dies out, plunging them into complete darkness. Their breathing is the only sound filling the air. Their boots pound against the wet ground. Schofield's boot splashes into a puddle, attracting another gunshot. Shortly after, another flare is fired into the air, illuminating their way. "We need cover!" She exclaims through gasps of air.
The moment the sentence leaves her lips, he pulls her against a wall to their right. "Get down as far as you can." He whispers, pushing them closer against the wall into the darkness. Shots clip the ground where they had just been running. Her hands grip the back of his jacket tightly. Her knuckles quickly become sore from the sheer might of her grip. They remain motionless. He can feel her chest heaving against his back. They needed this short break or else one of them was going to pass out - probably him.
His vision blurs and distorts. Reaching up, he rubs his eyes. This makes his vision only blurrier. "Are you okay?" She quietly whispers; it's low enough that he almost didn't hear it. He nods in response. Looking out in the direction they had been running, he tries to memorize the path. "I need you to tell me if you're okay, Sco."
"As soon as the flare goes out, we run." He whispers back to her. "Don't stop running, no matter what. If I get shot, you don't stop-"
"What-"
"Don't question me!" His whisper is rough. "Just listen, okay? You don't listen and that's your problem. Just fucking listen to me for once." Mags fell silent, her gaze dropping to the rubble she rested on. His gaze softened as guilt began to settle in his bones. "Just... I need you to get there, even if I don't. We can't let Blake die for nothing." She simply nodded. Her grip on her pack tightened.
