Fiction: Group 4
I slit the throat of my captive with no mercy. The other guards never stood a chance. They were stomped
over like little ants running from a tsunami wave. But we did not stop there, we continued and ran down
the tunnel.
Station after station we ran, discovering other prison camps, overrunning their guards as we wrecked
through. We ran and ran reaching the white light at the end of the tunnel, reaching for it was everything
we stood for.
We stopped immediately outside the entrance of the tunnel. Wincing at the glare of the sunlight. Gawking
at the number of guns welcoming us back into civilisation.
They crushed us as easily and as quickly as the fight started. The gunshots lasted for a consecutive ten
seconds.
As we were wasted one by one, holes torn in us leaving us inside out. I felt regretful that the end arrived
like this. To die in vain seemed so wasteful.
Dismissing it at first as something else, the sound of running footsteps originating from the tunnel was now
more evident. Their mere presence and numbers overwhelmed other guards immediately, causing them to
flee inflight.
Like the pair of mice some die.
Like the army of rodents the rest rise.
