Hello, viewers. How are you today? (If you get that, here's a Ringo-hug) Anyway, here's the next chapter for Running. Thank you all for reviewing. My account did something weird so I couldn't see the reviews, so I had to hunt them down. And when I saw how many there were, my heart exploded with happy. So, here it is.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
It is late in the night when I reach East Berlin. The wall rises in the distance, an austere backdrop to a city that appears cold and lifeless, like my former home. Pulling my threadbare coat closer, I step onto the cobbled streets.
After walking for what felt like forever, hiding at the slightest noise, I came to the wall. Hidden behind a building, I survey the scene. Guards were placed every five feet, making the chances of me not being noticed plummet to zero. The wall itself was a fifteen-foot concrete block. A glance up, though, revealed several cables running right above the walls. If I could get to those, I could swing across.
Wishing I had a springboard, I scale a building. With my training, it was simple. The cable was about the size of an uneven bar. I don't have any chalk, but I could live without. Saying a silent prayer, I grab the cable and swing into the air.
I'm about halfway when they notice me.
"He, Sie! Stopp!" echoed from below. I ignore them and just keep moving. A clicking sound followed. There is nothing I could do besides keep moving. So help me god, I would not go back.
The sharp crack that echoes through the air jolts me to the point that I almost fall off the cable I was clinging to. They are shooting at me! I move faster.
Gunshots ring through the air. Still I move. Don't look back, don't look back...the mantra runs through my head. The shooting stops for a minute. Move, move, move!
More clicking, I'm prepared for what will come next. At least, what I believe will come next. They haven't hit me yet. I smile and solder on.
A boom, then pain. Excruciating pain in my leg. They hit me! The world goes fuzzy for a second, but I refuse to pass out. Not now, after so much struggle. I will not give up now.
The last few feet are torment. I feel the blood drip down my leg into a puddle below. Somehow, though, I drag myself over the wall. The drop, however, was unexpected. And the ground is hard and merciless. By some miracle, I crawl to a bush and hide before the agony becomes too much and I pass out.
People...lots of people buzz around me. Speaking in a colorful language only they understand...Light...so much light...Music, colorful tunes singing of a love I have never known. Oh, my head...
Reality is sharp and clear compared to my dream-world. My leg throbs. A quick look at the wound makes me sick to my stomach. Dried blood is crusted around the hole. It looks like the bullet went straight through, which is good, I guess. Pus is oozing out. If I don't get it taken care of, it will probably get infected, which will of made all of this for nothing. Hands shaking, I rip a strip of cloth off my dress and bandage the injury as best I can. My leg shakes as I stand, but I block it out and walk to the docks.
"A ticket to London," I gasp to the attendant, a bored-looking middle-aged man. He takes one look at me and gives me a ticket in steerage. It's not ideal, but it's what I can afford. The ticket takes up almost all my money, leaving me little to purchase food.
All I can afford is some day-old bread, a few strips of dried beef and some rubbing alcohol. I stagger to the ship, at the point of unconsciousness once again.
Steerage is miserable; cold, dark and crammed. I locate my bunk and unwrap my wound. It has gotten worse. Gritting my teeth, I pour alcohol on it. My screams of pain echoed through the ship. My leg is on fire...sheer fire. Only fire would of burned up my leg by now, leaving nothing. Blissful nothing.
After what feels like forever, the agony subsides, leaving behind a throbbing leg. I wrap it again, eat some food and prepare myself for the night ahead.
Hell is not the word I would use to describe the voyage. Compared to it, hell is a merciful paradise. Huddled in a ball, I prayed to god that this torment would end. The rocking, people getting sick...the stench of sick permeates the air. Finally, after god knows how many days, we land. England...the air is crisp and clean-smelling after the ship. Sun glances off of sparkling water. Here, I am safe.
The immigration office is an excruciating 5 minutes away. At least, it would of been if I hadn't beed shot in the leg. It took me 20. The crowd of screaming girls didn't help either. There must of been hundreds.
As I walk to the building, a guard cuts me off. "You can't go in there," he says before looking me over. His eyes widenslightly when he reached my leg.
"Please, it is a matter of utmost importance. I must get through," I plead. A girl accidentally kicks my leg and it gives in from under me. I fall to the ground and know my leg will hold me no longer.
"Please..." I whisper once more. The guard stands there a second before picking me up and carrying me to the building.
"All fans must stay outside!" a man in a suit yells in a prim british accent. I look at him and somehow manage to stand once more.
"My name is Ekaterina Petrovia. I have defected from the Soviet Union. I have been shot and need medical attention. I have my birth certificate to prove my story. Please, I beg of you, let me through," I gasp. My leg gives out again, making me lean on the guard. The man looks at me and helped me to pass.
"Who's the bird?" another man asked. He has long, shaggy hair and a guitar sat next to him. Three more men, dressed the same way and with the same haircuts, also glance at me.
"I am of none of your concern," I groan, feeling my leg throb. I had to get through...the room spun and I force myself to remain upright.
"Miss, you look a little..." the words fade and I feel the world swirl around me, colors and sound fading to silence and black and white.
Guess who the men with long, shaggy hair are! And you said this had nothing to do with Beatles! Anyway, reviews warm my heart. SO REVIEW! Love you all, bye