Home (Trench inspired fic)

Dust

Orange rays had long gone. Dark navy filled the air as the moon bellowed above us. I think this was my favourite thing to do; lie back on my lumpy sleeping bag and watch the night sky. Freckle like spots of light offered a peek into a brighter life beyond all of this, and I wondered if anyone had ever been that high. There wasn't really ever any clouds to cover the beauty up, but often there was a fog that cast over us in the early hours. A layer of protection, I guess.

I found myself staring for so long that the pinprick lights had glued to my eyelids when I closed them. Slumber held me like a soft blanket and I let my mind dream of the warmth. Tropical sands, warm water, sweet smells and faces that were smiling. A place where had never been, but longed for.

It must have been early hours when my eyes shot open. The sky was still there, but the fog was layering between us. Something wasn't right. The crackling of the fire wasn't there. Bodies shuffling was absent. The air was heavy. My body bolted upright and I looked around me, the warm glow of the fire replaced with blue shadows. It wasn't even lukewarm, meaning that it had been out for a while. Slowly, I climbed onto my hands and knees and left the safety of my sleeping bag behind.

Crawling, I made my way over to the pile of black logs. My arm reached out and caught some of the thick black ash between my finger and thumb. It was wet.

We never put out the fire.

Darting my head around, a twig snapped. Like a bone. I could feel a trickle of sweat fall down my temple and my heart began to quicken. I held my breath.

Dirt. Screams. Yelling. Anger. Tents were being ripped open and set on fire, the cries of bodies from inside as they clawed their way out. Flashes of red filled my eyes as our home was flipped like a switch into our nightmare. They were here.

I knew what I had to do. Grab what I could and run. I frantically flailed my arms and held onto what I could, shoving items of cloth and tools into my torn rucksack. I'm sure my heart skipped a few beats.

Messily, I tripped as I stood and my feet took me to a sprint in the first direction I turned. I couldn't get caught. I wouldn't survive.

My lungs started to shrink and set themselves on fire as the sprint slowed, noticing that bodies were running against the current I was following. I came to a standstill and looked around me, my breathing heavy from the escape and the emotions catching up with me. A shaky hand ran through my hair as I spun slowly. Where did I go? Did I follow everyone else, or go my own way?

Before I could make a decision, I felt my body thud to the ground as another wave of people trampled in a direction I wasn't familiar with. Face first, dirt had sprinkled into my eyes and temporarily blinded me. Worn out shoes kicked and tripped, my hands clutching to my skull as I screamed and waited for it to be over.

I waited and waited.

The stampede had dissipated.

Shivering, I looked up. Kicked up dust formed a mist in front of my eyes, but it cleared to reveal a silhouette. A bishop. Stone cold fingers wrapped around the collar of my shirt, picking me up effortlessly. The other hand brushed the right side of my neck before repeating on the other. I felt ice trickle down inside my throat and cover my windpipe. I'd never seen it before, but I knew of the stories. I knew that a black shadow had locked itself around my neck, trapping me. Once scarlet coloured veins had turned black, goosebumps trying to break through my skin as the thought of that place becoming my home entered my mind. The one place I was running from was going to be forced upon me.

They must have followed the survivor.

Sleepily, my pupils scanned the battlefield. Material was on fire. Blood was puddled in the places where the younger ones used to laugh. Dirt had turned to a black, sticky mud. Fire which kept us warm were stone cold.

In almost a trance, my legs were being told to follow the red figure in front of me. I could make out that there were others in a line behind me, but I couldn't get the message from my brain to my limbs. I couldn't move freely. A heavy chain was holding me around my neck, but in reality, I knew that the air could touch my skin. My mouth was dry. Tongue was frozen. Blurred vision dipped in and out as we made our way through the dusty graveyard.

"Please..." I managed to beg, slurring every syllable.

The red figure turned in an almost underwater motion, looking straight into my soul. It didn't have to say a word. I just knew. The sad expression was replaced by the back of a red hood again as my head swayed and fell like a balloon. Small pebbles tripped me, but I never fell. I just fell into line with the rest of them.

This was it. The beginning of my end. More than ever, I needed to know if the traveller had escaped this hell.