Fire! Fire!
She hears the words shrieked by another woman as she wakes up. She feels startled and anxious. However, she keeps her eyes closed, clenching them shut, hoping that she may avoid the situation. Yet she wants to survive and needs to respond. What does fire mean? Is the area where I’m laying ablaze?
After panicking briefly, she begins to troubleshoot the situation. She opens her eyes. Does she smell and see smoke or fire? She’s lying face down but lifts her throbbing head. She sees that she is lying on short damp grass. There are gravestones all around her. She can smell moisture in the air. She’s wearing soaking wet clothes and shoes. No smell of smoke, no fire. She hears a rushing river. She remembers she was in a river before things went blank.
Does the word fire mean fire your gun? As soon as that thought crossed her mind, rattatattat rattattattat. The terrifying sound comes from behind her. Go! Go! Go!
She lifts her head to see who is behind her.
Stay down. Don’t panic. Be patient. We’ll get you out of here if you follow our instructions.
A woman dressed in black is crouched behind a gravestone, whispering calmly but firmly. We are going to run soon. When I say go, run in the opposite direction of my voice. Stay low and run to the right of the streetlight. Do not run under the streetlight. They’ll see us. I’ll be right behind you. Got it?
She nods to answer yes. If you are nodding, I can’t see you. I need to keep my eyes towards the river. Say yes.
She whispers yesss,
hissing out with emphasis on the s. Then things are quiet for a long time. She wants to fall asleep in the grass. She begins to doze when she’s startled by the word “Go!”
She quickly gets to her feet, runs, but stays low, dodging gravestones of various sizes, trying to aim for the area to the right of the streetlight.
Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! She sees flashes of white light to her right. The streetlight she’s using as her guiding light goes dark as the cracking pow echoed.
Follow me!
What’s going on?
she yells. She’s tired. Tired in body. Tired of her ignorance about where she is, what is happening, unsure of where they are going.
No time to talk. Follow me!
That isn’t the answer she wants. She stops running, sees curbing on the two lane road she encounters, and sits down, adjusting herself to make sure her bottom is on the curbing and not the damp grass. She folds up her legs with her arms. She begins to put her head down, seeing her leader approaching. She doesn’t care, continues to put her head down.
Suddenly she is lifted off the curb with someone pulling her left ear. It isn’t the woman she’s been following. She can still see that woman approaching her with both hands supporting a large assault rifle. All she can she of the ear-puller are black boots just like the ones she’s wearing. This road is going to be jammed with army trucks heading towards that light show you just saw,
the voice sounds like a gruff woman speaking through gritted teeth. They’re the ones that banged you up good. Move your ass. No time to talk. No time to rest,
sneers the ear-puller. You follow her and I’m following you. I’ll boot your ass so hard that my left foot will come out of your mouth if you stop.
The woman lets go of her ear, then shoves her forward as she gets behind her. Go!
She does as she is told. They cross the two-lane road, then enter what she thinks is the rest of the cemetery. After they enter woods, they stop running. The leader motions for them to follow her but to stay low. She sees that they all are dressed identical, all in black. Are we on the same team? If so, what’s our team? They hear dogs barking in the distance to their right. They keep moving through the woods until they approach a clearing, revealing what looks to be a cornfield. They walk through it, the corn stalks tall, damp with humidity, and ready to be harvested. Deep in the cornfield, they stop at a well, the kind you see in children’s picture books with a rounded stone wall at the base and a wooden structure above the stone base with a roof covering the well and bucket tied to rope.
Get in,
the ear-pulling woman orders.
I can’t fit in that bucket,
she says pointing at the bucket.
You’re not going down the well in the bucket dipshit. Look inside. There’s a ladder.
She looks but it’s too dark to see anything. I can’t see jack shit.
I’ll go in first,
said the one who led them to the well. Follow me. Go slow. Focus on what you’re doing. There are metal rungs you’ll use to climb down. They may be wet, be careful. I’ll meet you at the bottom.
She watches as the first climber gives her weapon to the other woman, then descends the well. She loses her in the dark. The ear-puller softly barks, Get in!
She does as she’s told. She hoists herself onto the stone wall, rotates her butt while lifting her legs, and places them inside the well’s walls. She uses her legs to find the first rung, which she discovers is right at the top. She leans down to place her hands on the rung. It is damp, feels rusty, but also feels solid. She’s not going to lose her grip. So, she shifts her lower body back down below her hands using the well’s wall for guidance until she finds a lower rung to place her feet. Once her feet are firmly on a lower rung, she moves one hand to find the next rung she can grab. She finds it and lowers her other hand to the next rung. She begins to get a rhythm and feels confident climbing down until the ear-puller loudly whispers down the well, So long suckaaah.
A cover is then placed on top of the well. She hears the cover being latched. A hand then touches her foot. She is freaking out. I’m fucked!
©2024 Tim Sheehan