Runner

Chapter Seven

We were winning. Our numbers were strong and so was our force. We had men upon the towers now, their main defences were out. But the fight was not over, not even close. I was at the front of the tracks. My ears were still ringing, the explosion’s wrath not done with me yet.

Reaves was running towards me a spare gun in his hand, he threw it to me when he was a few feet away. His mood had changed, his face was electric, “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

He laced his hand around my neck, his thumb against my cheek as he brought his forehead to mine, “You bloody did it!”

I closed my eyes, smiling against him. I had done it. A leaking sense of fury was tainting the success, but I knew Reaves was not the one to direct my anger at. And this was not a moment I wanted to ruin. I hoped then that everyone would remember this night.

“Go,” he ordered, “back the way you came, a pickup truck’s on route.”

“Is that all the congratulations I get?”

He walked away backwards, pointing as he promised, “Two rounds on me tonight!”

I rolled my eyes. Yep, because that’s what I was after – stale, hot beer.

When Reaves was out of sight and the adrenaline of success began to drain from my system, thoughts of Rodney, of his family, and of salvation, returned. I tore the other leg of my jeans away, tucked my hand-gun into the loose waist of my now cut-off shorts, and set back down the track.

Stirring dirt and clouds of smoke played masquerade with the midnight skies. I coughed as I called, “Rodney?” Into the thick black.

I could only hope that I had given him enough time to escape the blast.

I didn’t dare to investigate the bodies that lay still.

After passing dozens of cars, I heard the scratching and dragging of something moving along the dirt. Someone heaving themselves across the ground.

“Rodney?” I called again, as I approached the noise.

My sight grew stronger. Rodney’s face became clear, dark blood seeping down his cheek. His fingers clawed against the stone like surface, dragging his limp body up the track.

“Rodney?” I called once more, unsure.  His face was the same; the same shadow of facial hair and warm wrinkles.

But his eyes were different.

I thought it to maybe be the colour, but then I realised it was not how they looked but what they were hiding. No longer sympathy or curiosity, but this time fear.

“What, where --- what have you done?” He stuttered, heaving himself more urgently. “How are you here? Where are your burns?”

I took a tentative step forward, holding up my hands. I wanted to scream that I was harmless and that I had not understood what I was getting myself into. I hated the accusation and confusion, and I hated that my very presence terrified him.

“No, get back!” He warned, his legs kicking himself away faster.

“Rodney…”

“No!”

Violence remained in the background as I faced a far more dangerous situation.

“You get away from me you filthy demon,” he spat at my feet, “Murderer!”

I reflexively stepped back, knowing he wasn’t just terrified because of what I had done, but because he realised what I was.

“No, it’s not what you think…”