18- revenge (unreliable narrator / loss of identity / I see what's mine and take it)
The island of farmers froze during the dispatch. The sound of warplane engines echoed overhead. Fear, but also hope, gripped Carlos. Over the past two days, he had begun to make contact with other prisoners and to discuss rebellion. The idea of the American government finally sending in troops to stop the terrorists awakened his whole body and erased his fatigue.
He exchanged glances with Adam; his friend's will to fight and keep getting up every morning was impressive, especially given the state of his wound. The necrosis was spreading and Carlos, like Adam, knew that amputation would be inevitable if he wasn't treated quickly.
The policeman's gaze sought out those of the other prisoners ready to rebel. They all had the same flame of determination in their eyes. They were just waiting for confirmation that these planes were announcing that the hour of vengeance had arrived.
This nocturnal immobility lasted a few seconds, then an explosion sounded and the still dark morning sky filled with fire. A shudder passed through the prisoners, immediately followed by a collective cry of rage. They leapt at the guards around them.
Carlos, with a handful of other men, returned to the hangar to take charge of those checking that everyone was up. He was in a trance, his heart overflowing with rage as it had when he'd learned of his father's death. He wanted revenge for those days of servitude, exploitation, Adam's condition, Enzo's death, Jonah's disappearance, his separation from TK.
The guards raised their weapons at them, but the rebels scattered; the hangar was their prison, and they knew every nook and cranny. Carlos dodged several bullets in his direction and jumped on the first terrorist he encountered, without any remorse breaking his neck and continuing on to the next one.
The masked men came at them again and again, but Carlos was not afraid, only adrenalin and his thirst for vengeance coursed through his body. Hand-to-hand combat ensued, and the soldiers' weapons were recovered by his companions. Blood flowed freely.
Then, suddenly, there was silence. Blood-red dawn broke over a field of despair. Hundreds of still warm corpses littered the ground, watering it with their vital liquid.
Farther away, the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed between the towers of New York. Adrenalin still pulsed through Carlos' body as he joined Adam, leaning against a table to relieve his foot.
"To the boats!" shouted a man.
The gray tide set off, their thirst for vengeance still alive. Carlos slipped his arm around his friend's waist, offering to use him as a crutch, and followed suit.
Now he wanted to flee this cursed island, entrust Adam to people who could care for him and return to New York to find TK.
They squeezed onto the six fishing boats that the professional seafarers drove to the nearest land. They were expecting a welcoming committee; only the wind was on the shore. They disembarked without a hitch. Some headed south, others north, but the majority headed for New York.
Carlos and Adam were lagging behind, the farmer struggling to walk. He begged Carlos several times to abandon him on the side of the road, but the Texan refused to leave him to his fate.
It was dusk when they reached the first avenues of New York, from which came a thud. The rumor of fighting rekindled Carlos' adrenalin, and he insisted on sheltering his friend in a dwelling. Adam refused, but this time the policeman wouldn't give up. He knew that the wounded man would be in too much danger in the middle of the fighting. After much arguing, Adam gave in and agreed to move to safety. They were heading for a building when a shot rang out and the scene froze.
