I practically growl.
The air is changing. An intense silence.
"Fuck." I breathe.
I can barely make out the small gasps escaping Alex's and Cauis' mouths. They're scared. But so am I, so no need to call them pussies, or else I'd just be judging myself. Alex's boot taps Cauis', causing him to flinch and look down to meet my burning green gaze, then back up to Cauis.
"...What?" Alex whispers.
"We should go." Cauis whispers back. So they won't even speak up? Are the Nazis close then? Close enough to hear our us? What if I gave us away with all our shouting from before? What if those bastards pick them off, one by one with cold bullets, to leave me in this shithole to die of starvation, dehydration, hypothermia?
"...Yes, we s-should." Alex mumbles. He retreats out of my eyesight into what must be the forest -the only sorce of protection- to the right, hefting a gun over his shoulder. He's gone. The only trace he leaves behind is the sound of his big boots crushing the icy snow underneath.
"Right behind you."
"-Wait, Cauis! Alex!" I whisper-shout, barely breaking the sound barrier, if you ask me.
My fingernails are clawing at the dirt around me, unearthing that animal instinct to survive. It gets caught under my stubbed nails and it's almost painful, but I keep digging.
"You heard the General, Mason. " Cauis spits. "Three days. It's only been an hour and a half. So- well, good luck to you." He gives me a half-hearted salute. My nostrils flare, my vision blurs red. I want to scream. Can't. Want to rip Cauis limb from limb. Impossible. Get out of this hole...
Maybe.
Maybe if I dig far enough, I can make it to America.
An errant thought.
I try a different tactic. Pounding. It creates a drumming rhythm, beating the once-stagnant air.
A voice, naturally, would be the next manuever, but, truthfully, I'm afraid. Afraid it would be too loud. Enough for the Nazi's to hear. I've never admitted being afraid before, to anyone but myself. The word has really bothered me some. It dulls my sense of pride, pushing my fragile, more mature years away to replace with the broken, younger years of adolescence.
Life isn't a blessing, as some people say.
Life sucks, and then you die.
That's all there is to it, and as much as you can deny it, you will die. Perish. Turn to ash. Nothing. Oblivion. My worst fear is death. And death is upon me. I feel it in my bones, the deep part of my core.
I'm afraid.
*-*-*
I curl up in a ball, gazing up at cut-out hole of sky above me. You wouldn't believe me, but this isn't such a bad place to die. The space is almost compact enough to feel enveloped, secure, safe. Hell, I'm already six feet under. All the Nazi's will have to do is bury me, so my body won't be violated. I lean my head back against the earth. Eyelids close. Breath slowly escapes lungs. A sigh.
Then I my mind converges into the first state of pissed off.
Jasper couldn't have come for me? Really? My half-brother is too proud to turn swiftly on a black and leathered heel to turn back for the man he calls "brother?" Or Emmett? Brother by blood? Was he too busy driving the Tent truck to lend a hand? Shit, even the General would've had heart enough to send someone for me. He think's I'm a prodigy!
"Dammitt!" my first spoken word in twenty minutes. Surely, the Nazi's will be here with the next wind. Hey, maybe they'll spare me, just to drag to Cullen's for his sick enjoyment. They'd at least have to check with him before killing me, right? Possibly. Then again... probably not. He fucking hates me.
I wipe a hand against my face with extreme boredom. Hey, if I took a nap now, would I even notice the bullet ripping through my skull? Would I feel the burn in my lung of suffocation if I was asleep? I could die happy. Really, I could do that. I close my eyes for what could be the final time. And I dream.
There's a woman, dressed in a thin, frilly yellow dress. She's so beautiful. Hair like honey, a laugh like a symphony. Her hands are thin and nails perfectly carved into small ovals. The bright light in her eyes brings me to tears, so I swiftly mop them clear to hide my emotion.
"Edward." She laughs wholeheartedly, a very airy, crisp laugh and holds her arms out to me. Subconsciously, I sprint into her welcoming arms, breathing her in. Mmm, she smells like sunshine and homemade bread. Soft grass. Rain from a freshly woven cloud. I breathe her in so deeply. I love her so much.
"Mom." I hear myself speak, but I did not mouth the words. I have no control of this dream, but I'm joyful to be able to watch, and smell. "Mom." I repeat, love that sound of her unofficial name that a boy would call his mother as it passes.
"I love you so much, Edward." she stroke my hair softly, and there's a sudden change in the mood. Her body goes stiff against mine. Her breath hitches and I can feel her heartbeat.
Pounding.
Pounding.
Pounding.
Pounding! Why are you so scared, momma? What's the matter momma, why are you scared?
Her hands shake on my skull now, I remove my head from her shoulder to take a good look at her face. Tears are streaming down her lovely cheeks and it kills me. I use the pad of my thumb to pat them away, but more cascade like waterfalls. Never ending.
"Why are you crying, Mom?" I continue to wipe her face. "Why are you crying, momma? I don't want you to cry. You're scaring me, stop."
She curtly shakes her head, and removes the palm from the top of my head, now caressing my left cheek with the opposite hand.
"I have to go now, Edward." More tears, I start to wipe them away until her arms trap them to my sides as she hugs me so tight. "I love you so much, but I have to leave."
"But I don't want you to go-"
"Stop." She whispers, and releases me.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop! I do as she says. I even back away a little as she does the same, disappearing from my sight. A black fog envelops everything. My mother's beautiful honey hair spoils, turning the rich color to ash. Her pretty dress is in tatters, blood spilling out from her in all directions as bruises appear on her face, arms, around her lips.
"Mom!" I shout. I need to bring her back to me. She can't leave. I haven't seen her for so long. She's my mom, and I love her. She just can't leave!
Then, Cullen submerges from the deepest pits of hell, behind my mother. His hair is flaming, his eyes spewing blood red. He grasps Esme's soft pale arms from behind so firmly that he marks her, the new bruises spilling over the old ones, forcing them to become new. My mother's eyes, her beautiful, silver eyes, are rusting under his touch.
"Don't you touch her, you bastard!" I try to shift my legs, but they're unmoving, the most frustrating part of a nightmare you could ever have.
"She's mine." Cullen seethes, and I can't stand that voice. I can't. Can't. Can't! Take it anymore. My muscle finally escape paralysis, I'm running towards her now, so close! I can smell her, from so far away. She's rain, honey, laughter. No- now she's death, disease, ash, smoke, fire. He's consuming her. Devouring her bit by bit.
"I said leave my mother alone!" I pull my fist back, ready to punch the motherfucker square in the jaw.
"Edward." Her voice brings me to a silence. Halt. "Don't." Her pleaded words. I have to obey them. I force my fist down to my side. Clench. Unclench.
A dark chuckle from Cullen.
"Goodbye." They say in unison her voice a soft farewell, his a pointed threat. And then they're gone.
I stand in the barren landscape. Breathless, speechless, powerless, to do anything. I slouch and hit the ashen ground with a loud thud.
She's gone.
*-*-*
Screams are deafening, did you know that? They beat at your ears until they bleed. I'm serious. So why am I hearing them now? Isn't it supposed to be quiet? I mean, the Nazis are here, I should be quiet. Am I? I don't know. I can hardly think with all the damned noise! God, it's dark.
I force my eyelids open. A gasp. A burst of hair rushing from my lungs and the most annoying, ear-splitting sound. Screams. I try closing my mouth, and they stop. Shit, those were mine. I clamp to hands over my lips for good measure, keeping the emotions shut deep inside, where they belong. I lean my had back against my prison, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to calm myself.
That was the worst dream I've had in a long time. A really long time. Ever since I enrolled in the army two years ago, claiming the age of eighteen, I hadn't had one nightmare featuring Cullen. Until now.
He had to make a cameo in my sleep? I swear- this man will never cease to haunt me.
*-*-*
"Edward!"
What the hell? I open my eyes again. I was asleep. At least I didn't dream. Anyway...
"Edward! Where are you?"
Is it the Nazis? Did Cullen send them for me? No, it's only one voice. I get my ass off the ground and put my hand up, my fingers just protruding the air above the entrance to my prison.
"Hello? Anyone out there? Help?" I cry.
"Soldier Mason!"
Well Holy Shit. It's Biers.
His mousey little head pop up above the hole, scaring me shitless. I clutch my chest, heaving. "What the hell, man!"
"Sorry!" Riley mocks a morose face and stretches out a hand to me. I take it a tad to greedily, but thankful all the same. He lifts me up with surprising strength for such a little dude. I laugh a little as my gut falls to the dark pit below me and then I'm finally on flat, open ground. I stretch out, and face the (non-cookie-cutter) sky. It's now a cloudless, perfect blue. I breathe it in.
"Well, you're welcome." Sniffs Riley, wiping the edge of his nose with a dirty sleeve and glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I huff and get off the snowy dirt, brushing off debris as I go. I get a slight head rush, and grab Riley's shirt to still myself.
"I can't thank you enough, Biers." I say a little too loudly.
"Shhhh!" Riley puts a finger to his lips, indicating silence.
"What?" I whisper back.
"Nazis. Follow me, I know a safe route around them. 'common!" He waves me over like a dog. I hate that.
"I really dislike it when people do that." I mutter as I jog behind Riley into the blanket of trees.
"Dislike... what?" He mumbles. Riley trips on an oblong stick in the mud and tumbles head-first for the snow.
"-whoa-watch out!" I grab the back of Riley's collar and hoist the kid up. Damn, he's light.
"Er, thanks."
"Just call us even, 'kay?" As if that would ever make up for what he did for me. I'm a lucky bastard. For all I know I'd be six feet under, the Nazis taking turns shooting rounds at my unsuspecting body.
"Okay." Riley smiles. "We're far behind, so we'll have to move twice as fast as they are."
"They're already moving thrice as fast as we normally would." I huff.
"Exactly."
"So that means triple the normal march-"
"Up hill."
"Surrounded by Nazis."
"With not many bullets." He replies, stopping to check his gun. I still have my 7.65 with only one shot.
"Up against the Fuhrer himself!" I fist pound the air, and Riley give a gasp, his eyes wide at the mention of Cullen. All odds are agaisnt us. Ah, what the hell.
I should be dead anyway.
End of Chapter Three.
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