Fiction: Group 3
and smoke saw everything burned down. They stood there in an imperturbable tranquility as the image of
fire seared their eyes. Then white lights, the smell of alcohol. They’d brought him back.
***
Many days passed, and he neither stirred, nor awoke from his slumber.
The only way she was sure he was alive was his heartbeat, and the steady breathing. She admits she is
tempted to kick him out into the open, but she knew what he did was not his fault. The general explained
the experiment -they put them under a mind-controlling serum, and answered her; albeit very vaguely, but
nevertheless, she got her answers.
It was not his fault that he killed everything she’d known.
Luke-her old friend.
He left for the army, and the last time she saw him was when he stood over her with a knife. He walked
away. Later, the general told her he ordered him to stop because she was a queen leading the cause, and he
wanted to see the
queen
dethroned.
***
Now that the memories are gone and done, he sees black, and the darkness is suffocating.
***
Her family is in heaven, or wherever dead people go, and she yearns to be with them. She is not
free
on
Earth, and staying only causes pain for her.
She’s not dying though. She is the only hope. She cries for him, for her, because neither of them deserve to
live in the aftermath of WW3.
She lifts her dagger, and waits.
***
Time flies by his closed eyes, and he feels himself waking up.
When daylight penetrates his eyelids, they miraculously open.
He focuses on the graceful dagger in front of him, and smiles.
He looks up at Alexandra, and sees tear-stricken face.
He mouths his final words:
thank you.
