“It’s only two kilometers now Hanna. Go without me.”
Hanna shook her head. He saw the fear reflected in her blue eyes. “I can’t leave you John. We’re almost there. Just a little bit longer. Please, don’t give up.”
John sighed, and as he did he coughed, blood trickling from the right corner of his lips. Hanna began to reach over to wipe the red away, but John instinctively grabbed her arm.
“Don’t Hanna. You have to leave me. My ribs and ankle are broken. I can barely breathe or run. You have a chance. Take it.”
She pushed her red hair from her eyes to look at him. Tears formed, the salty liquid drizzling slowly down her cheeks, burning her pale skin as it flowed. They had made it this far and the thought of abandoning him to die made Hanna sick to her stomach. Taking John’s right hand in hers and squeezing it gently, Hanna smiled, “We can make it. I know we can.”
His grip tightened, but she saw it, the look of determination. John had made his decision and there was no changing his mind. “I promise I will find a place to hide and wait. But you have to go. You are the only one who can save them.”
Hanna knew deep down John was right. Time was precious and if they were both caught, the others would perish. Leaning over to kiss his forehead, she tussled his curly brown hair. She didn’t want to just abandon him, alone and injured. If there were any other way, she would embrace it. Leaving was the right choice to make, as much as it hurt.
“Stay safe Love.”
John winked. “Make me proud.”
Hanna stood up, took one last look. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she zipped her coat against the seeping chill of the winter night, pulled the collar up, smiled, and in a few quick steps, was gone.
Maneuvering through the rubble of the fallen buildings to stay hidden proved difficult. Re-bar protruding from concrete shards impeded swift passage. The streets were too open with nowhere to hide. If she sprinted and could keep the pace making the wall would take no time at all. But with Him in pursuit, He would see her. Keeping to the shadows and staying out of the moonlight, that gave Hanna a slight advantage. If only for a minute or two, but it might be enough.
She could hope.
Making her way between exposed live wires hissing from contact with metal, Hanna’s mind wandered. Stay alert. Stay alive. I have to save them. The words echoed inside, repeated over and over. She had to grasp something to focus her attention, if only to drown the fear brewing within. It festered and grew, rising profusely until she felt the sour of vomit in her throat. Swallowing hard to temper the storm, it subsided. She was afraid, scared of dying. With adrenaline coursing wildly through her veins and the weight of responsibility for whether others lived or died, she couldn’t help feel alone.
And utterly helpless.
The screams shattered the silence. Carried along the thin cold air, she felt the hair on her arms stand on end, even with the warmth of her coat offering protection. Ignore it. Just her imagination. Seconds became minutes. Distance grew.
She might just make it.
“Tick tock goes the clock.”
The deep rasp of the voice sent shivers down Hanna’s spine and hearing it again brought back her worst fear. Taking a deep breath, eyes closed, she found her calm. I am not afraid. He will not define me.
“Time is mine.”
She heard the scrape of the blade, felt his presence. He was in the rubble, not far behind. Back and forth, the high-pitched sound grating her ears, as if taunting her. Hanna knew she had to move faster, but every step required sure footing to climb over and around obstacles. Reaching the last mound of debris, she felt the air blow by and the bullet spray bits of rock towards her face. Reflexively closing her eyes and throwing up her hands, the pieces stung her palms.
“Death comes Princess.”
Hanna could die now or live. It was her decision to make. The bullet missed its mark, but the next might be on target. Stay in the shadows and pray it was enough to keep a step ahead, or make a run for it and hope she could evade. Either option came with potential consequences.
The street lay to the right and from what she could see, except for the abandoned cars littering the path, it was clear enough to make a sprint. One last deep breath in and a slow exhale, and then Hanna was gone.
Quick feet got her in motion instantaneously and her athletic prowess from years of cardio and half marathons helped propel her body forward. Each meter was an accomplishment, confidence building that she might succeed. Ten meters, twenty meters, side-step the vehicles, and watch out for bottles or glass. Hanna felt energized. No sounds behind, only the pounding of her heart in her ears.
Until the bullet struck her left thigh.
The sudden pain thrust her forward, loss of footing, a hard dive to the ground. She winced, held the back of her leg to try and ease the agony.
Her attempt failed.
As she lay bleeding, she heard Him. The familiar slide of his boots on the ground. Faint, it grew closer, until he was five meters away.
“Time’s up.”
Illuminated by the moonlight she saw his face for the first time. The scars wicked, deep and purple. Eyes rimmed red with rage. A confident smile stared at Hanna.
“Meet your friends.”
He twirled the blade and walked towards her. Standing close, he raised the knife and stopped when she smiled.
“Time’s up for you.”
Floodlights erupted from behind Hanna and he instantly knew. He had nowhere to run, and she won.
“For you John.”
Jason McDonald 