Underneath all the reasons,
The one thing I believe in,
Just to keep you alive.

- Frontlines, Nonpoint

. . . | . . .

C H A P T E R - T H R E E

The Safety

~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~

It was strange - the silence.

No smells.

No color; black and white with every shade of gray in between. Thick dirt, almost mud was at my face, limiting my sight. It touched my nose, but I didn't feel it. There was chaos around me. It disturbed my peace.

I looked to my left and saw the men of my company. Their dark figures were odd against the bright sky as they pulled pins from grenades and threw them forward into the air.

BOOM!

The explosion was so loud and so near that it shook me.

Their mouths moved, screaming at me, but they were silent.

I wanted to shout back, to tell them that I didn't understand, but I was frozen.

BOOM!

A side-arm fired at my two o'clock.

"Edward!"

It was her! I gripped the sandbags above my head and pulled myself up just so I could peer over the edge.

A fiery Los Angeles was in front of me. Its tall buildings leaning like top-heavy rubber over the silent explosions and panic at their feet. I stood, then, pushing myself out of the fox hole dug from the asphalt in the middle of Olive Street. I recognized Perishing Square - it was just ahead, but its vibrant colors were gone.

I wanted to call for her, but I didn't have a voice. I searched, but couldn't make out a familiar face among the crowd that ran toward me, away from the drooping buildings.

BOOM!

My chest heaved. I could feel the cool air in my lungs and the pressure in my chest as it filled me.

Darkened figures ran by to my right, and when I turned to see these shadows she was there.

Her short, dark hair whipped wildly around her face, succumbing to a wind that I didn't feel. Her eyes were calm despite what was happening around her, and her lips straight. There was no fear, no worry.

I wanted to run to her, to lead her away from the growing fire that threatened to take over our position, but when I tried to pick up my feet I couldn't move.

When I looked down I was sinking! Quick sand! The asphalt was quick sand!

The white city, lit with flame, was nothing compared to the ivory of Alice's skin, or the blue of her jacket. It was then that I noticed the black, familiar shape in her hand, a gun.

Was she the shooter I heard to my two o'clock?

I reached for her to help me out of the asphalt, and I could hear my voice, among other noises, begin to emerge when I called for her, as if someone turned up the volume.

There was pain in my leg.

BOOM!

Air filled my lungs, moving my chest roughly. I could smell musk, old items and fresh air mixing together. Alice and the surroundings began to crumble like ash. There was light, however slight. She whispered just as the last of the darkness slipped away. I breathed again, and realized that my reality was not there in fire and silence.

My eyes burned so much that I could barely open them to look at her face, but I tried so hard. Through the haze she was there, leaning over me, touching me, shaking me while holding a gun in her hand.

"Edward! Wake up!"

We were still in the station, the only difference was the glass door, which was intact when we entered, was shattered. My voice thick, I asked, "What are you shooting at?"

She shushed me. "They're out there!"

I sat up. Pain spread though my leg, once more, causing me to flinch. The medication wore off, or it wasn't helping as much as it used to. But, I couldn't think about the pain now. I didn't have time. I had to wake up. "Who's out there?"

"Two men. I was sleeping, but something woke me up. I heard them say something about you being dead, then the door opened, so I grabbed your gun and shot. They ran behind the cars near the pumps."

My suspicions were correct. We were being followed. I was split between relief, because I wasn't crazy, and fear, because I knew what they wanted. "Did you get' em?"

"I don't think so," she said, out of breath.

I slid a palm down my face. The pressure felt refreshing on the skin around my eyes. I didn't sleep for nearly long enough. "Did they have any weapons?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see any, but they had backpacks."

I was concerned about guns. Surely, if they had any they would've been by their side, ready to fire. But just because she didn't see any weapons, didn't mean they didn't have any. They could be anywhere on their body. Almost everyone had something to protect themselves with. It was a factor for survival.

"What do we do?" she asked, kneeling next to me. I took the gun from her hand and released the magazine into my palm. Five bullets were left. There were nine before. Plus the ten in the M16. Out of all the ammo I saved over the past few years, that's all I had left, all I had been able to find. Mostly, the guns were for looks, to threaten anyone if they came near us. We couldn't afford to use them anymore, but I most certainly wasn't walking out there in the middle of the street to find and kill these men with my knife without knowing if they were armed. I knew better.

There was no other way out except through the same door we entered. If they were as desperate as I believed them to be, and they wanted what I thought they wanted, they wouldn't stop until they got it; my weapons and her.

I wouldn't give them any more opportunities. I couldn't lose any more sleep over them because Alice was right; it was affecting me.

"They think I'm dead?" I asked.

"That's what I heard."

I seated the magazine back into the pistol as quietly as I could so the clicks wouldn't fill the building, possibly reaching the ears of the men outside. If they believed I was dead, they'd be unprepared. "We need to get them close to us."

"How do we do that?"

"Bait 'em."

"With what?"

"You," I said.

"What do I have to do?"

I pulled the empty pistol from the holster on my left, as I slid the live one back into my right. "Take this. Call out to them and get their attention. When they start to come closer, pull the trigger, it'll click but won't fire. Act scared. Trust me, they'll come."

She took the empty Nine. "What are you going to do?"

I pulled myself into a crouch so I could move without being seen and hid behind a shelving unit close to the front. "Wait for the opportune moment. Time to put those acting skills to use, Al."

She nodded then approached the shattered door. The small shards of glass ground underneath her shoes. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath then released her fury. "What do you want?" she screamed.

It was silent for a moment, but then a faint voice responded, "To help is all! We saw you a few days ago and noticed your husband had a bad leg. We knew it wouldn't be too much longer before he died." Silence. "He's dead isn't he?"

I didn't like the way he sounded. His tone was unnerving, not trustworthy.

Alice wasted no time responding. "I'm fine on my own! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

"Sure you are," he responded, "but there's nothing wrong with a little help is there? We have food and water."

"No one has those things!" Alice's eyes grew wide, her posture changed from frightened to panicked in only a second. Something changed out there, but she never once looked to me. "Don't! I'll shoot!" The gun clicked when she pulled the trigger, and her expression was fear. Even I believed her.

The voice sounded closer now. "Looks like you're out of ammo."

Alice stepped backward, the opposite direction of where I crouched. I was so fortunate to have her as a companion. She was smart. They would keep their eyes on her, and not see me hiding behind the shelves. "No! No, please!" she said to them. Their footsteps grew closer. The sound of wet gravel shuffling under heavy boots became louder.

The door creaked on it's hinges and very faint shadows moved across the floor. I stinted my breaths, keeping them shallow. The moment was finally here; I was going to confront what had kept me awake, the people that had been stalking us. I wouldn't lose any more sleep over them.

I pulled my Night Stalker from its sheath on my belt, the long, black blade pointing toward my intended. I stood as they came within feet of her, one man a few steps behind the other. A quick glance over their clothing revealed they didn't have guns. The closest would be first, but he was the one who turned to his right and looked to the floor where my rucksack was.

"He's gone!" he said quickly, and turned toward me, toward the door. I was there and he was mine. His dark eyes, surrounded by a full beard and long dark hair, filled with fear I knew all too well. He was smaller than me, but not by much. Definitely weaker. My body felt flush with sticky heat and my stomach turned in painful knots from hunger and nerves. There was always a question of survival; whether or not I was going to make it out alive. I learned over the years not to underestimate anyone, and these men weren't an exception.

Behind him, the other man, a little bigger in size than his companion, turned to face me as well. Just as he did, Alice slid along the far wall and ran behind me, my rucksack at her heels as she pulled it. I couldn't count the seconds that we stood in silence, staring and sizing each other up before any of us spoke, but I was the first who did. "What do you want from us?"

The larger man blinked and grinned under all the dirt and hair on his face. "Nothing," he huffed.

"Bullshit! You followed us for days! You want something!" I yelled and gripped harder onto the handle, the rough rubber digging into my skin.

"Only to help." He blinked again, losing eye contact for a moment by looking at the floor. Not trustworthy.

Anger filled my voice and pushed against my chest. "You were waiting for me to die."

"It was only a matter of time."

I jutted my head towards Alice behind me. "You want her?"

"To allow a fine creature to be in a world all by herself with no one to protect her is a shame," the smaller man said.

My teeth gnashed together. My jaw ticked, and I could feel my upper lip begin to twitch. "She has someone to protect her, and trust me, I won't die that easily. So unless you've got a grenade launcher in those packs of yours... unlikely... you've got nothin' that could make me surrender, and even then it's questionable."

"That goes for me, too." Her voice, along with a light tapping, resonated from behind me. I didn't have to turn to know she had the M16 out of my sack. The sound of it in a pair of hands was unmistakable.

"That's not loaded," the front man said with a smile.

Three round bursts exploded, lighting up the room and penetrated the wall behind the men. They cowered close to the floor. The sound of their heavy breathing accompanied the ticks of debris and shells hitting the floor. Seven rounds left, plus five in my pistol. I would have to remember to turn the safety on in case she became trigger happy again. I turned to take the gun away, but she was already handing it to me. I flipped the safety on before I returned my attention to the men.

My steps towards them were deliberately heavy; intimidating, I hoped. They were desperate and wouldn't stop following us. Words weren't going to keep them away. I slid my knife back into it's sheath then grabbed the barrel of the large gun. Direct access to his head, a knife wouldn't do any good here. I wanted him to feel how hard I would fight. "Regardless," I said, "I can still beat the shit out of you with it!"

I flung the butt of the gun towards the back of the shorter man's head with as much force as I could muster. The shock of his skull and flesh colliding with the metal vibrated through my arms. It seemed to wake me from my subdued reality, blew away the haze that had filtered my mind. I went at him again, and again! Each time harder and faster than the last!

Again! And again, until he no longer moved. Until he wouldn't be able to pick himself off the floor to follow us. Until a red halo formed around his disfigured head. Until he was dead.

I heaved, exasperated, then dropped the soaked gun to the floor. Red splattered across the linoleum when it landed.

The other man had pushed himself against the far wall, away from my rage-induced slaughter. I pulled my knife, then and took the same steps toward him.

"No! No! Don't kill me, please! Please don't kill me! Have mercy!" he screamed, begged. He was on his knees, fingers tied together in prayer as he stared up into my eyes.

"Get up!" I shouted.

"Okay, please... please don't hurt me," he said as he rose to his feet.

My heart pounded as it pumped the moment through my veins. I grabbed the tuft of his wet hair near his forehead, turned him and anchored his back to my chest, he reached for my wrist but he was too late. I closed my eyes and held his head against my shoulder. I pressed the straight edge of the blade to his throat then slipped it into the soft tissue. He struggled and gurgled until I completed the deep cut across his flesh.

I released him, allowing him to fall into a heap on the floor, as a tickle of sweat fell down my forehead.

"Search that one and I'll search this one," I said as I pushed the knife back into the sheath then knelt next to him to sort through his pockets. There was nothing on him except a red Swiss Army knife and a worn, black, leather wallet. I discarded the wallet into the pile of fallen shelves and rubble that was just behind me, and slid the small knife in the cargo pocket of my pants. "Anything?"

She appeared and sounded disgusted. "No. Nothing."

I began to search the bag on his back. Clothes and a small blanket. I quickly wiped the blood that covered my hands off on those, and when my fingers brushed across a cool metal object, I could barely contain my excitement. Was it what I thought it was? "Alice, I think I have something!"

"What?"

I pulled it out, smiled then tossed it to her.

She caught it. "Oh my God!" She was up on her feet with her squeal and nearly dancing around the room. I chuckled at her excitement.

"Do you know what this means?" She nearly screamed.

I joined her in the middle of the store, where she threw her arms around my neck. My thigh pulsed and burned. She was nearly climbing me! "Al! My leg! Ouch!"

She stopped immediately and apologized profusely over and over again.

"It's okay. Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Wait," she pulled my arm, "was that the only one?"

"Yup. Was there anything in yours?"

"No. Just some rags."

I pushed the M16 back into its deep pocket then lifted the sack onto my shoulders with slight difficulty. She handed me her empty prop she'd tucked into her jeans pocket. "Let's go," I said.

She picked up her bag from the floor, stepped around the body and exited through the same glass door she had shattered previously, still holding onto the gleaming, metal cylinder. I followed her path.

A quick glance around assured me that we were alone once again. The gas station sign caught my eye. A forever reminder of what had started our downfall: NO GAS!

Alice was already on the road headed east.

"Wait," I called out as I secured the sack around my waist. Patches of dry and wet blood coated my hands. I leaned down and quickly wiped them in the rough grass.

She stopped, wrapping her arms around her torso, and leaned forward with her head down. She was in such a good mood a few moments ago. My concern for her was instant. "What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my leg and moved in front of her. With that step I flinched.

She didn't speak. She sniffled and wiped a quick tear away from her cheek. I pulled on her shoulder lightly. Was it me? "Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head, sobbing, then with a turn of her heel she slipped her arms and the cylinder between me and my sack. I furrowed my brow, curious. But before I could question her again she cried, "I saw what it would be like without you." She squeezed me harder than I would've ever imagined she could. "When they said you were dead, then started for me, I believed you were."

"But I was right there," I reasoned gently as I pulled the hair from her face then returned the embrace.

"I know, but... for a moment, it felt like you weren't."

I knew the feeling. The moment when a situation felt all too real, even though it wasn't. It happened in MILES training. Usually if one of us were hit, we'd exit the field, but for one exercise our commander wanted us to experience the emotion of the fight. If one of us "died" then we had to stay where we were tagged. The sight of so many members of my company in a ditch or next to a building, all of them "dead", was overwhelming. The situation was too real, too frightening to imagine. I understood what she meant.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

I rested my head on top of hers, even though it was a bit uncomfortable due to her height. She was my dearest friend, my most trusted ally - the only person I could depend on, the one person I would keep safe. I gently brushed my palm down the side of her head, taming those out-of-line strands that stood out earlier.

"Don't worry. Everything will be alright," I said as I kissed the top of her hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She looked up then, and smiled gently.

She believed me.

Thanks! Next update might be a few days late next week. See you soon!

Aggressive Expansion by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard

Frontlines by Nonpoint