Sak · Maps

Escape 01:09 Nightfall:Host

02.01.09 15:21
Section: Maps
Filed Under: Copyright - CC, Series

Samara had been crouched in the bushes for nearly twenty minutes. For the first half she struggled with relaxing, trying to keep from tensing while waiting for the moment to sprint across the meadow and snatch the resupply unit. It was like waiting to do a hundred yard dash on the starting blocks while the official went out for a beer; any second the shot could go off, and she’d need to be at peak performance. During the last half of the wait, she began counting the soldiers, memorizing their locations. Practicing, in her mind, squeezing the trigger in bursts, repeating to herself: “Right one, right two, center three, left four.”

Then it began.

Samara had closed her eyes, visualizing the locations of the troops again when the first shot went off that she almost accidentally squeezed the trigger for real. Coming to, she quickly scanned for the tactical raiment to see what was happening. When she found it, the next series of shots pounded into it in a succession, pulsing rhythmically. She watched as it surged with each hit, holes punching into its left chest area, wet heat squirting out each point of impact.

“Oh, shit!” she said, and left the security of the trees just as the booming of the sniper rifle ended. During the first two steps, she watched the raiment, her heart pounding in her chest as she built the momentum of her sprint. It wasn’t moving. Then she remembered what she’d been practicing for the last ten minutes while hiding in the trees. “Right one,” and she swiveled the raiment around to the right and squeezed the trigger, sending a succession of rounds in the direction of the first soldier. As she cleared half the distance to the resupply unit, she watched the soldiers spinning around, trying to get an idea from one another as to where the attack was coming from. It was just as Robert had predicted, a crossfire. The soldiers were caught off-guard, and the tactical raiment still didn’t utter a single sound. Number one was caught by her gunfire, and number two was smart enough to hit the deck at the first shots, lying flat on his stomach. By the time she’d panned her rifle arm around to the third solder, she heard another booming shot from Robert, and watched as the man’s chest blew open into a red mist and he was sent screaming onto his back.

“Left four,” she said, squeezing the trigger and aiming the gun-arm in the direction of the fourth soldier who had been mulling around near the tactical raiment. He had ducked for cover behind the tactical, which Samara could now see had reset to its resting position. As she charged toward the supplies, she continued squeezing the trigger, pummeling his cover with gunfire. He quickly figured out what was happening, that she was coming for the resupply unit, and so he broke from cover and set into a sprint across the meadow. Samara continued to train the gun-arm onto the solder for his first few steps, cutting him down. In another step, she was at the supplies, letting out a grunt when the raiment’s foot slid in the moist earth from breaking hard. She punched in a series of commands while reaching out for the resupply unit, and the raiment picked it up and slung it over its shoulder, the hand and forearm pivoting in a contorted manner to bring the unit into position onto the back of the raiment. She listened to a series of clicks, interrupted by another booming shot from Robert’s rifle, then a confirmation icon appeared indicating that the unit was secured.

“I’ve got it,” she said, “let’s get the hell out of here,” and started running back north through the meadow. The two remaining soldiers had completely ignored her by this point, and were firing on Robert’s position.

“I’m on my way,” Robert said, shoving himself up, off the ground, and snatching the assault rifle he had left leaning against a tree. He started sprinting from the trees, around the building, and making his way back up toward the Burke-Gilman. “I’ll meet you on the trail somewhere.”

“Just keep following it north,” Samara replied, “I’ll track you.”

Samara jogged along the streets without stopping for a half-mile before coming to some tree cover at a park. “I’m about a quarter of a mile ahead of you,” she said, breathing heavily, “in a park. There’s a basketball court—”

“I gnhoe hit,” Robert said, though his own labored breathing. Samara waited, listening as a jet roared in from above, and she heard Robert emit some strange grunts and growling noises, followed by a grumbling, “Fuckin’ shit-ass, mother-fucker”

“Are you alright?” Samara said.

“Yeah,” he said, “I dove into some bushes to hide from that flyby and ended up in some briers.” He exhaled through tight lips, as though releasing back pressure.

In a few minutes Samara watched as Robert came jogging across 40th Avenue, and into the park area. He staggered over to some trees that separated the park from a grocery store’s parking lot, threw his back up against a trunk, and slumped down to the ground. Samara strode over to him and put the raiment’s camouflage on standby, revealing herself. “I hate to say this, because I’m just as tired as you are, but we should probably keep moving and try to get some more distance from the little fight we were just in.”

“Yeah, I’m just so wiped,” he said, his voice becoming shaky and cracked from thirst.

Samara turned her back to Robert, and said, “Here, pop open the supply unit, and grab yourself some water and food.”

Robert wiped his face and struggled to his feet. He looked over the unit attached to the back of the raiment, rubbing at a burning sensation in his eyes, and put his hand on a handle on the right side of the unit. “This thing here, to open it?”

“The thing that looks like a car door handle?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

The unit popped open, and Robert scanned over the contents. The upper three quarters of the right side contained several sealed packages secured by bands of elastic. Just beneath these were two bladders with tubes that ran down into the bottom of the unit and connected with two other tubes that met with the lower back of the raiment. Inside the door of the supply unit were several bottles of water, and a netting filled with small packets. Nestled into the bottom of the door was a box that sported a raised, shiny, red cross. “In the door, the smaller packets are snacks,” Samara said. “Some are little bite sized bars, and others are carbohydrate gels. Go ahead and grab a few of those, and a water bottle.”

“What about you?”

“There are two bladders in the supply unit that connect to the raiment that provide me with water and some of that energy gel. I’ll have to wait until we find a place to rest for the night to get some solid food.”

Robert grabbed a handful of the little packets and stuffed them into his pocket. As soon as he closed the supply unit’s door, Samara activated the camouflage again, and the raiment shimmered into the background.

“Thanks for this,” he said, tucking the water bottle under his arm, and tearing open a vacuum sealed cube. They walked in silence for several miles along the trail; Robert occasionally chewing down a cube or sucking on a gel packet; Samara trudging along a few yards behind him. After about half an hour, they no longer had to duck from occasional jets flying overhead. An hour later, the sky had settled into thick, dusky hues, and the shaded eastern side of the slope down to Lake Washington brought a cooling air onto them that helped to picked up their pace a little. Robert eventually came to a hillside park overlooking the shore. “Matthew’s Beach,” he said. “You think this is a good place to stop for the night?” He looked up at stars peering through the deepening sky as he walked down a sloping trail into the park.

“Over here,” Samara said. “We can hide out in this abandoned house.”

“Where are you?”

“Take a left where you are…” she said, and Robert turned and walked through another trail that led toward a small waterfront neighborhood. “Now an immediate right just beyond that row of bushes…yeah, there, now down the driveway.” As he reached the base of the driveway, he could see that Samara had backed the raiment into an open garage.

“God, it’ll be good to get out of this thing,” she said.

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This is a work of fiction. None of the characters are real, including myself. Any similarities between what is depicted in the story and what exists in the real world are intentional coincidences.