Survival Instinct
Singapore International School, Kim Seung Young Lucia, Fiction: Group 2
D
ust clouds, spraying tiny specks of soft sand the color of crispy baked butter cookies,
formed as each of our steps thudded against the sand, taking us further into the Gobi
desert. Stifling, dry air filled my lungs. I coughed and retched but persevered and
sprinted forward, ignoring the shouts and screams of my muscles begging for me
to stop. Our art of running is unorthodox. Our long strides take us forward in the air, our legs
outstretched as we take each step.
Our home, the desert, isn’t much. Golden sand stretches in all directions as far as the eye can
see. There used to be patches of green which gave us shade and water. However, since our enemies’
arrival, shade is rare, but under it the temperature could plummet a sharp 5 degrees Celsius.
I strode further onwards, nearing the tight cluster of the lead runners. Running was always
part of our life, but now it was crucial for survival. Rumors passed around, from brother to sister,
of our kind being killed by our enemies. A single stagger would result in certain death. No one
wants to fall into the clutches of our enemies.
Surging onwards, tiny beads of sweat trickled down my neck. The sky was a beautiful, pale
bluish color, and not a single cloud was in sight. An orange yellow blob radiating light hung
across the tarp of blue.
“Argh!” an ear piercing scream hung in the air. It belonged to Gerry, my best buddy.
We all froze in our tracks. Whipping around, I came across the sight of Gerry, rolled over and
covered in sand, moaning. Crimson blood splattered all over his head like a huge blotch of red
paint on the pallet. A sharp jagged rock was pierced through his head.
“Gerry… Are you okay?” Even to me I sounded desperate.
“Of course not, stupid,” said Gerry. We grinned, and for a moment it felt like everything was
okay, that the old Gerry was back. But then he groaned and laid his head down, and I knew death
was coming for him.
“Go on without me,” He said.
“But we can’t leave you here to our enemy!” I exploded, as if I were a small child, unable to
take death.
“Go on … I’ll make it if I can…” Gerry said with difficulty .
“I’ll stay with you! You have to get better, Gerry! You have to!” As if the words could force
this to happen, I angrily insisted this. Angry with the world, angry with that stupid rock - I was
fuming with rage.
“We should leave Gerry here; it’s the kindest thing to do,” reasoned Gavin, another friend.
Gerry nodded slowly, in agreement.
“All right,” I glanced at the weakening body of Gerry and reluctantly consented.
The color was draining from his face. Gavin, being the fastest runner, herded the rest of us to
take formation. A youngling, excited but frightened, took Gerry’s place.
Sprinting across the desert, we continued to race along the barren land, across miles and miles
of sand. In the distance, a gunshot sounded. Most of us ignored it, we kept running for dear life,
but I knew at that very moment Gerry had died at the hands of our enemy. I forced down my tears.
All of a sudden, Gavin stopped dead in his tracks. I locked eyes with a ferocious snow leopard,
