Dreaming for freedom

Chapter 5

Hello all! Again we return to the Tale of Sarah . . . Be afraid, Doom and Disaster is Very Close.

Basma screamed, a piercing scream that made me return to consciousness . . . my breathing was heavy and my brain was deprived from the lack of sleep, Mr Hussain twisted around before I did. A man wearing green ( camouflage? ) was staring at me, his hand toying with a pistol. He raised it-

I braced myself for impact and started chanting Alhamdulilah, Alahuakbar, in my mind. If I'm dying then I was meant to die -

Mr Hussain jumped in front of me just before -

BANG!

Just like that night.  Mr Hussain fell to the ground. He gave me the one split second I needed but I couldn't take it -

" Thank you, " was all I could conjure as he took his dying breaths. 

My heart broke. He wouldn't live. His life was over. And he did it to save mine

I saw him return a nod with difficulty and I gazed at him. I saw his lips, trying to form words, Sarah -

" Come on! " Screamed Basma, grabbing my hand. I stared at the murderer of an innocent man. he stood in front of me tall and menancing, a cruel smile of satisfaction on his evil face.

I was ready to explode. I roared at him, just about to race right into him and pound him to death -

Basma saved me from dying, although at that moment I didn't realise it and tried to tear from her grasp but she held on firmer and I started digging my nails and mouth into her arm but she didn't let go, only endured the pain like the true hero she was. She began to pull me forwards, pushing me left and right to avoid the banging behind us. Bangs from guns obeying their relentless, emotionless masters.

More and more army men were racing into the tunnels, the same haunting look on their faces. No emotion. Like they were set a job to do and had to do it, which was probably true, a bit like those soldiers from the poem The Charge of the Light Brigade -

I couldn't care less.

Rage screamed inside me, I pictured the horrible army staring at us with torchlights, guns aimed at us, all either murderous schemers or cowards. I could feel someone of them aim for us, no emotion. A torchlight lit up our way but Basma grabbed me and pushed me towards the wall where we could remain unseen. 

BANG! Screamed a gun and I watched a bullet soar through the air right to where I once was. I shuddered at how close that was.

 I twisted around and glanced at them, a fading light behind me,all of them either people like stupid Black-man, such a coward that he couldn't even stand up for us, there were enough stupid people like him to create an army, to fight back . . .

My anger was now directed to Black-man and cowards like him, then I thought of the man in charge of all this. 

The man in his expensive suit drinking out of gold glasses in a beautiful palace with his content little family smiling and laughing, eating to their hearts content and doing whatever they willed, servants running after them and following their orders. Hundreds of neighbourhoods having nice, normal lives. Everything wonderful. 

Then there's the people like me. Half-starved, out of their minds with grief and misery, stuck in a filthy underground tunnel, never breathed fresh air or ever felt close to happy.

 I realised then and there I hated them, I fumed with hatered at the thought of anyone involved in the president's murderous plot. The way he'd weaseled his way into being President with his bucket loads of cash made me seeth with pure venom.