Refugee
A District 9 Fanfiction
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Chapter 1: The Escape
I remember clearly the moment I decided to leave District 9. It happened all at once; no subtle beginning, no gradually growing sense of want. It was instantaneous, and it was excruciating.
It happened when I was on my way home on a night similar to many others I'd survived. I was alone; the rest of my group had already gone into their respective homes; so I was, in essence, a walking target. I moved at a steady pace; not too fast, not too slow. If I moved too quickly, I would draw unnecessary attention to myself, and if I walked too slowly, I'd spend unnecessary time outside, running up the risk of being spotted by an MNU officer. I was so used to the routine by now that the speed came almost instinctively. Still, my pace counted for a very small fraction of my safety. I'd been shot at in the past when there was much more going for me than speed, so I remained fearful. I rounded a corner, getting ready for the final stretch, when I saw him.
He lay there, his body completely intact apart from a tiny bullet hole in the head. He did not move. I didn't have to come close and check. I immediately knew he was dead. I remembered hearing a gunshot earlier when I was with the others. This must have been the result. I began to shake. The sight; no; the very idea of what had happened triggered every single negative emotion in me that could possibly be felt, as strongly as they could possibly be felt. I was sad that it had to end for him this way, I was afraid this might happen to me, I was angry at the humans for murdering him and countless others, etcetera. I knew these feelings had been inside me for very a long time now, just suppressed, but I could control them no longer. I'd had enough of this place.
Looking back, I'm a bit puzzled that it was that particular moment that caused me to leave. I'd experienced much worse in the past. I'd witnessed one outlander get his antennae ripped from his head right in front of me. I'd seen one on the ground, his face unrecognizable from repeated bludgeoning. I'd even seen one of my own friends dead, his torso cut open and robbed of its organs. Through all of these I'd never so much as blinked, somehow. It mystifies me that a simple gunshot to the head could affect me so dramatically. I guess it was because my emotions had build up to the point where even the slightest stimuli would push me past the breaking point, and this was by no means slight, even compared to the much worse things I'd witnessed.
Anyway, the desire was uncontrollable. I had to get out. I knew the risk, I knew I could die in the process, but even dying seemed better than staying where I was. Something would end tonight. Whether it be my life or my confinement here, I didn't care; well… I think I was probably leaning toward the latter, but that's not important.
Had I been thinking rationally, I would have returned home to stock up on supplies before I left. But I wasn't thinking rationally. The only thing that concerned me at the moment was getting out as quickly as possible. And that's just what I did. I ran at full speed towards the nearest edge (which was, fortunately, relatively close.) It didn't take long to reach it, and when I got there, I leaped over the razor-wire-topped fence. I immediately heard gunfire. They were shooting at me! Not a surprise at all…
I don't remember much of what followed. The only clear thing was that I came out of it covered in blood that was not my own. I felt no remorse for what I'd done. They were, after all, human.