Flash Fiction

Ready or not

‘Forty-nine…….FIFTY!’

The sound echoes through the tunnel and my stomach leaps. It was a risk to hide so close but there wasn’t time to get far enough away. Even now as I stretch my eyes trying to peer out from behind the shrub, I can see movement, those still running to find shelter. Emily with her pink coat and fiery curls is a beacon.

The snap of a twig shoots my eyes back. I squeeze them tight to shut down the fear, blocking out the legs that are standing so close I can see the stitching on the filthy denim.

He stands for what seems an eternity. My breath tight in my chest until finally he takes one last drag of his potent cigarette and flicks the butt casually into the bush where I’m crouched. It lands in my hair and the terror of discovery wrestles for dominance over the fear of being burned.

He enters the tunnel and the sound of his boots dragging on the wet stones becomes more faint. I reach for the butt, my nose curling instinctively at the faint smell of singed hair.

I flick it off and tentatively touch my head where it landed, the crisp hair disintegrating as I explore, gingerly dabbing my fingertips to my scalp.

I know this is unnecessary. There is no wound, my hair too thick to be easily penetrated by a dwindling cigarette, but the gesture is distraction to calm my shattered nerves. As if blind to the emergency of the situation, I distractedly brush specks of dirt from my skirt.

I have to move. I am the slowest of the group and he would know that I can’t be far, but I desperately want to curl into a ball and close my eyes to the world.

A whimpering close by drags me back to the present and I whip my head around, instantly glad to not to be alone while at the same time horrified at discovery.

Sam slips down the embankment and my heart sinks as his teeny boarding sneakers, barely half the size of my own, come to rest beside mine. A memory of us at the skate park flashes in my mind.

He attaches himself to my side, his knitted dog clenched in his fist and I can feel him shake with fear and cold.

Far in the distance, I hear a scream severed prematurely and in the sudden silence I instinctively wrap my arm around Sam and clap a hand to his mouth.

His eyes are wide and wild and I can tell he’s teetering on the edge so I bark at him to be quiet. Chastened by his expression, I stuff my emotions down and before he has time to protest, I stand, haul him to his feet and practically propel him back up the embankment towards the road.

‘He said…’

‘I know. No road….but listen…’

The sound of an engine approaching gets louder.
Without consultation and in unison, we sprint.