Land of the Setting Sun
5/27/2007 - Thomas
I stuffed myself behind the bulkhead, the third sardine squeezed into the tiny blindspot the bulkhead provided. The gunshots continued for an eternity, and with each loud crack and body hitting the deck, we pressed ourselves further against the wood, eager to become one with it, splinters be damned. Finally, there was a sharp yell from up above, and the last sailor crashed against the deck. More footsteps made their way onto the deck, and a couple bullets were fired straight down into the boat from above, until someone yelled loudly from above not to waste ammo. The hold door was completely unlocked, and a wide beam of light made its way into the hold, passing by the corner where we were hiding.
Very quickly, I realized that we were completely fucked. We were trapped like fish in a barrel, there was no escape out the back, and who knows how many scavengers waiting for us at the stairs. They came closer, sifting through bags by kicking through the mess, checking for any stragglers, no doubt.
"Thomas, check the back. It's imperative that none of these cretins survive, this was just a test run." Thick, determined boots pounded towards the back of the boat, and my hands twitched, ready to seize the man as soon as he rounded the corner. Thomas's thick head peeked around the corner cautiously, and I lunged for him immediately, hands aiming for his neck. Unfortunately, they never reached.
Thomas was huge. At least a head taller than me, and completely dwarfing Qara and Dr. Blythe. My relatively spindly arms stood no chance, and he batted them away instantly, like he knew I was there. He appeared to be Chinese, and the gaze of his eyes seemed to burn holes in me.
"I see you."
A large hand wrapped around my throat and yanked me out of the nook, slamming me against the edge of the bulkhead frame. The back of my neck was especially affected, and my vision became very spotty and grey for a moment before returning back to normal. He squeezed his hand in pulses, like a child torturing a rat.
"Don't play with your food, Thomas," someone snickered nearby, "just kill him and be done with it." I tried to move my neck to look at whoever had spoken, but his grip tightened further. Dr. Blythe yelled my name, but I could barely hear it, it was like being in an insane wind tunnel, getting blown backwards constantly. Gradually everything became very, very far away, until I could no longer find my way back.
I stuffed myself behind the bulkhead, the third sardine squeezed into the tiny blindspot the bulkhead provided. The gunshots continued for an eternity, and with each loud crack and body hitting the deck, we pressed ourselves further against the wood, eager to become one with it, splinters be damned. Finally, there was a sharp yell from up above, and the last sailor crashed against the deck. More footsteps made their way onto the deck, and a couple bullets were fired straight down into the boat from above, until someone yelled loudly from above not to waste ammo. The hold door was completely unlocked, and a wide beam of light made its way into the hold, passing by the corner where we were hiding.
Very quickly, I realized that we were completely fucked. We were trapped like fish in a barrel, there was no escape out the back, and who knows how many scavengers waiting for us at the stairs. They came closer, sifting through bags by kicking through the mess, checking for any stragglers, no doubt.
"Thomas, check the back. It's imperative that none of these cretins survive, this was just a test run." Thick, determined boots pounded towards the back of the boat, and my hands twitched, ready to seize the man as soon as he rounded the corner. Thomas's thick head peeked around the corner cautiously, and I lunged for him immediately, hands aiming for his neck. Unfortunately, they never reached.
Thomas was huge. At least a head taller than me, and completely dwarfing Qara and Dr. Blythe. My relatively spindly arms stood no chance, and he batted them away instantly, like he knew I was there. He appeared to be Chinese, and the gaze of his eyes seemed to burn holes in me.
"I see you."
A large hand wrapped around my throat and yanked me out of the nook, slamming me against the edge of the bulkhead frame. The back of my neck was especially affected, and my vision became very spotty and grey for a moment before returning back to normal. He squeezed his hand in pulses, like a child torturing a rat.
"Don't play with your food, Thomas," someone snickered nearby, "just kill him and be done with it." I tried to move my neck to look at whoever had spoken, but his grip tightened further. Dr. Blythe yelled my name, but I could barely hear it, it was like being in an insane wind tunnel, getting blown backwards constantly. Gradually everything became very, very far away, until I could no longer find my way back.
