Running
AN: It's me
again, making the same statement. I
don't own the characters or robots in this story (damn), so please don't sue
me, cuz I'm poor and I can't pay you.
R&R, please! (btw, it's
Squall's viewpoint, once again.)
SHIT!!
It's getting closer. I don't need to look over my shoulder to
know this. I can hear it. More than that, I can feel it. I can feel the vibration as the huge,
metallic, claw-like feet slam into the pavement, ripping it up. I can feel the irregular pounding of debris
hitting the street. A single strand
screams through my mind. MUST RUN
FASTER.
And so I do,
pushing myself beyond all my boundaries.
As I run, I cannot remember a single time in my existence ever actually
running for my life. Running to as
exercise, yes. Running to get to class,
yes. Running to escape a 2 story tall
robotic spider, never. I've never
experienced the mind numbing terror and unbelievable adrenaline rush that
scream through you as you flee from something that causes the ground to
practically disintegrate beneath your feet.
And I admit to myself, this is not entirely bad, this feeling.
Fighting is
useless. We tried that. I drew Quezacotl the instant it hit the
ground in front of us. The powerful
blast of electricity instantly overloaded the robot's circuits, and it hit the
ground. But it did not lay still, as
all the other monsters we have fought did.
It twitched and buzzed, with the occasional spark or bolt leaping from
it. As it started to get up again, we
realized what it had been doing: it had been repairing itself. We fled.
We ended up fighting twice more, with the same results, and then we just
ran. Here we are, still running, but
losing ground quickly. I hear the
outburst of the horn of a car that has apparently been stepped on by the
robot. Better it than me. Finally we reach the storm wall that marks
the beginning of the beach. Forgoing
the stairs entirely, we jump, knowing that using the stairs would mean our
deaths. The girl and Zell recover from
the fall instantly, running for the vessels.
I land hard on my ankle and feel it give. I struggle to my feet, and not a moment too soon. Just as I vacate my spot, the robotic
monstrosity crashes down right where I was not a second earlier, having
apparently tripped on the lip of the wall.
I start thanking
whatever gods there might be for this small miracle, thinking that at last I am
safe. But then I hear gargantuan hinges
screaming and know that it is not yet the end of my trial. Ankle screaming, I run harder and harder toward
the haven that is the vessel, with the robot hot on my heels. Suddenly, the pounding noise of the robot is
cut off by a much more welcome sound.
The staccato blasts of the machine gun mounted on top of the boat. I look up momentarily to see Instructor
Trepe manning the weapon.
The robot
screams (screams?) as the bullets do their damage. For a few brief seconds, it continues its relentless pursuit, but
by then I have already leapt for the open doors of the vessel. It gives up and collapses on the beach, but
if Instructor Trepe noticed, the machine gun certainly did not, for bullets
continued to pour down onto the mechanical mess that was after the lives of me
and my party. As the doors close, I see
it explode, and the boat rocks. The
doors close, and one last word crosses my mind before I pass out.
Safety.
