What other choice was there? I would just have to go for it. I had to take the chance. I had to build up as much speed as possible as we headed to where we could rush through the fence.
Pushing back down on the accelerator, the pedal feeling sticky with my blood, I aimed the wheels to take the next corner wide in hope I could keep us on the road at the speed we’d already got to; in hope we’d be out of sight of the soldiers before they reacted.
Our speed grew quickly and I took the turn with the road opening up both sides. I glanced to the left and where the roadblock had been, seeing soldiers standing around, then double taking our way and bringing their guns up to aim.
I looked right and the direction we were turning, but instead of the empty road ahead, the small tank I’d seen before waited in the middle of the tarmac with its thin cannon pointing right at us.
With no idea why they hadn’t blown us away already, we raced towards it, unable to stop staring into the barrel. I had no idea why it hadn’t moved and didn’t adjust its aim when I jolted us to the right, surging out of the sights, only just able to pull us back straight again one-handed.
A gunshot came from behind, but just one. We must have been out of their range. My plan had worked, but as the tyres hit the curb, jumping us on to the path, I fought with the wheel to keep control. Cursing my wounds, the movement forced me to battle the steering with both hands.
We were soon parallel with the small tank. Passing, I glanced to the open back doors and two soldiers with unmasked faces, unloading green metal boxes from the rear.
The soldiers saw us as I saw them, but we passed before they could do anything.
Instead, I watched them in the rear-view mirror, rushing their masks on before shrugging their rifles from their shoulders.
They didn’t pull the triggers before we were too far down the road; before I had to make a choice. To go to the left where I didn’t know what was happening, or to the right and my house, then around to where I’d planned to break through the fence to reach the woods, but where I knew the soldiers were looking for me, ready to pull their triggers.
I chose to stick to the plan. I chose to head to the right. It was the only way I knew would take us to the woods and the promise of safety if we weren’t going to navigate over the fields in a vain hope the car could cope with the ruts of churned mud.
Seeing the roadblock ahead and the soldiers readying their aims but not firing, I caught sight of another group to the left, but they weren’t soldiers. These were people in bright orange space-like suits, with pipes snaking across the outside. They stood in groups of three or more, looking down to rows of long black body bags lying in lines across the ground.
My breath caught in my throat and I looked away, blinking as if that would erase the image. Then I saw the corner and slowed a little, reminded of the pain when we’d last hit the curb.
As the turn opened out, I looked ahead, expecting the soldiers to be where we’d left them. I was in no doubt they were expecting us to come around and had their guns ready to meet us.
I slowed right down before we’d completed the turn, uncertain of whether I should race ahead or creep around the corner in case I needed to make a different move and head back the way we’d come. But I didn’t complete the thought before Tommy called out.
“Mum,” he shouted, the word long and drawn out.
Before I could look to see who he called to and just as I realised what he’d said, his door opened. I slammed on the brakes, tensing with the pain as Tommy jumped to the road, running with his arms open toward his mum emerging from a walkway between two houses.
I stared with relief that there was an adult who could take charge, a mother, someone who would look after us. Someone who would know what to do.
With no time to relax as Tommy ran, I took in the detail of what I’d seen. Rising in my seat, I pulled the door open to get a better look and make sure I’d seen right and that the woman about to grip around Tommy wasn’t really missing the side of her face.
As I looked on I realised the sight hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. The white of her skull where the skin down one side of her face should have been. The red of blood dripping down around the edges. She ambled along, opening her arms to the boy so close to her.
Despite all I’d seen, people’s behaviour was so much like those in my favourite video game; I couldn’t bring myself to believe the explanation. But I realised enough to know it wasn’t right. I thought back to the body bags and for the first time thought perhaps the soldiers had the best idea.
After ducking back into the car, I pulled the pistol from the centre console. I attempted to run, despite the pain in my right foot, towards the woman.
I was too late. She had Tommy in her arms and rather than pulling him close in an embrace and a beautiful reunion, she gripped him around his torso and sunk her
