“Olivia.”
Right, I had to focus.
I took a step onto the grass, releasing a breath at the feeling of something soft beneath my toes. But I couldn’t revel, I couldn’t afford to revel.
I needed to focus.
I recentered myself and took a few steps forward, Phil joining me, standing just to the right and behind me.
I looked around as we walked towards those car ruts. Seven buildings, I think, several people with guns walking about, watching us carefully. Everything seemed so aimless, but those trees. My eyes shifted back to the trees in front of me. I could see them in the large gap between two buildings. Large and beautiful and looking exactly like how I imagined freedom to look like.
There were too many people wandering. Phil had two guns, one on his hip and one on his ankle. If I could get ahold of both of them, I had a good chance at making it to the trees. After that, I could just run. Run and run and run until my legs wouldn’t carry me anymore, and then I would crawl. I would crawl for as long as my hands and knees allowed, and then I would hide.
I would hide and wait. Wait until I thought the coast was clear before trying to find a road that would lead me back to the city. Back to a place where I could get guns and a car, and then I would return and kill them all.
“That’s strange,” Phil said, his hand grazing my arm, gesturing for me to slow and then finally stop. “The van was right there,” he gestured to those ruts.
I looked around again, my muscles tensing, readying myselfto move. The people had started turning, talking into their earpieces, and my gut hummed in warning. “Do you have an earpiece?” I asked quietly.
“No, only the guards do.”
What thefuckkind of system was that?
People were starting to react, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “Phil,” I said carefully, watching people start to lift up their guns, “you need to get on your knees.”
“What?” he asked.
I turned on him, my skin suddenly itching for the escape, for running, forsomething. “Someone is here.I’mthe prisoner. They won’t shoot me. They will shoot you, so get on your fucking knees.”
He looked around, his hand already on his gun. “It’s Alascer, he doesn’t want to pay.”
“Great, get onyour knees,” I stressed. What was so goddamn hard about following that order?
“They’ll kill you if you have a gun.”
“Theymightkill me. They will kill you.”
But still, he hesitated. “You’re just a writer,” he rationalized. “You don’t know anything about this world. Nothing real.”
I snarled, grabbed his right wrist, and slammed my foot into his knee, ripping his hand away from his gun.
He fell to his knee with a grunt.
I leaned in. “Real enough. Put your hands up if you want to live,” I told him as gun fire erupted through the clearing.
One thing I had learned since coming here; how to control my panic really well.
Don’t blink, just think. Don’t flinch, just focus.
And right now, my priority was making sure he had the best chances of surviving.
He gave me a warning look but did as he was asked, settling on both knees. “They’re going to kill us both. Have you even used agun?”
I pulled his gun from his holster and loaded it. A 9mm. Not great, but good enough. “Yes.” I crouched down at his leg, glancing around the clearing quickly as I ripped the smaller gun out and loaded it. A little revolver. Even worse, but fine. Beggers can’t be choosers and all that shit.
I cocked the hammer back and stood, stepping up behind him, my heart racing as I looked around frantically. “I’m going to put this gun to your head.”
“What?” he said through his teeth.
