Dim, flickering street lights attempt to light my path...

Water runs down my face. Not tears. I’m not crying. The sky is crying for me. Splish. Splash. Go my running feet. A rumble cuts the night and a glow appears above. High above. Where the looming city towers do not reach. Cold in their steely, reflective glare. Dim, flickering street lights attempt to light my path. I wish they would burn out. Darkness is my friend this night.

My lemon colored slicker makes the rain patter. Causing it to mutter in protest. I swoosh as I run. My quick-dry pants making that noise like an incessant zipper. Up, down. Up, down. My jacket crinkling and cracking. I tilt my head and run a hand down the back of my neck. The device I can’t feel, but know is there, prickling my senses.

I know they follow me. I can hear a distant yell over the rain. I can imagine the thumping boots as they race to catch me. The one who tried to change everything. Jordan had been right. I should left things as they were. Content to live in the shadow of terror. But I had to break the rules. Break free from what I knew would kill me.

More water. More rain. More tears. I’m crying now. Jordan. The thought sends me spinning. I slip and the bag hanging across my chest sways. I grasp it with both hands. Eager to protect the contents. Unwilling to let them slip out and dance all over the slippery road.  I’m not sure if what I do is right. Or wrong. I’ve followed my gut and it’s brought me here. Where ever here is.

The yells are closer. The distance is shortening. The broken armband on my right arm glows faintly, but I know it’s not alive. I killed the device a year ago. And killed my left arm at the same time. You can barely hear the click andwhirr of motors inside that arm. The one Jordan made for me. So life-like. So real. But so unreal at the same time. I can’t feel it. I can’t own it. But it’s all I have left of Jordan.

Power. The goal of all, and yet it is being taken from us at every turn...

It’s amazing how much we’ve changed. And yet inside we’re still the same. We still strive for what we want. What we think we need. Power. The goal of all, and yet it is being taken from us at every turn. More and more, we become slaves. Unable to think on our own. Captive to one ideal. One man. One demon.

I can see the laser points now. Jumping through the night. Grasping for a glimpse of me. They stare like the haunting eyes of their owners. Quick to serve. Eager to kill. I know they’ll catch me soon. But am I ready to die?

He always said running would never change anything. But when did I ever listen to Jordan? Even when he warned of the poison and I cracked my armband. Or when he tried to save me and I turned my back. I can still picture my arm disintegrating before me and the look on his face as he died. I can’t believe what I’ve done. What I know I’m going to do.

There are only moments before they catch me. I dash for the blanket of a dark alley. My hands shake as they reach inside my bag. There are a few soft clinks as I pull out a few of the objects. With a glance out the alley, I search for the ideal spot for my load. Close to the wall. Close enough to destroy the foundations.

The rest of the charges have already been placed. This is the last load. I set the timer and step back. Only moments away from my victory. But I know I won’t live to see it. Attempting to hide my explosive, I run back into the street. My right hand fumbling for something inside my bag. Something I’ve saved for this final moment. I step into the light of the street.

Time seems to pause. I’ve done what I’ve planned for months. I’ll be freeing so many lives. A yell from down the street breaks my basking. I turn and run, almost feeling the dots on

I pull the pin out with my left hand, wearing it like a ring on my finger...

my back. Not so close! Not yet! More yells. More splashing. More rain. When I reach a main intersection, empty like every other one, I stop and face my hunters.

Black from head to foot. I can’t even see their faces. They swarm around me. Like wolves surrounding their prey. My hand emerges from my bag. I pull the pin out with my left hand, wearing it like a ring on my finger. My right stays firmly over the handle. They know what it is. They remember.

With a final, silent cry for Jordan, I prepare to face my doom. Closing my eyes to remember. Every word he ever spoke. Every action he ever took. Running like the rain through my head. Splattering on my mind. His urgency as we spoke our first words together. His pain as he was forced to remove my arm. His anger at what had happened to the world. His fear when he learned of my plan. His pride when he finished my replacement arm. His protectiveness when he told me he’d help. His horror as he died.

I struggle to remember every word. He was all I have ever known. All I have ever loved. A faint memory parts through the rest. One of hope and of peace. One of joy and of strength. With this firmly planted in my mind I open my eyes. The black people have not moved. Their points still focus on my heart. I refuse to ask why they haven’t killed me yet. Refuse to question anymore. Only accept what I have been told. My right hand relaxes.

God will save me…Right?


~ by R.S.Sharkey on February 6, 2011.

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