-Worlds Apart- Ruination by Amanda Thome

It holds steady but on my second thrust it bursts open. I stumble into daylight. Stacks of smoking pillars rise from the walls surrounding me. Bombs rain down from the sky, bursting the walls into cascading jagged pieces.
    “Over there!” One of the foreigners shouts from the tunnel.
    They saw me; I have no choice but to run. My attempts will be futile; I’m a prisoner inside these walls but I have to fight.
    The door slams with such force that the brown soil jolts outside. The blue-sky overhead is mixed with curling grey smoke that travels like the rivers that cut through our sector. The grey smoke dances along the blue canvas and somehow looks beautiful, like it’s taken on a life of its own.
    The winding stacks are suddenly blocked by a massive shadow. The hovercraft appears swiftly and eclipses my view, thrusting me into darkness. It’s just like it was three years ago during the massacre. It’s the same black hovercraft I saw in my vision days before the foreigners used it to bomb our sector. 
    My eyes dance the length of the craft looking for the symbol I saw during my vision, but this craft’s void of it. A loud clanking sound like metal striking metal comes from its base. I see the craft expel the barrel of an enormous gun. My heart constricts in terror as the gun slowly rotates towards me.
    I hold my position with my feet planted to the ground; the foreigners will be breeching the door any second now. My back’s bracing the door as I scan the wooded landscape to take inventory of my surroundings. Three hundred feet stand between me and the protection of the tree line. The area between the tree line and me means certain death. To my left sprawls a mountainous hill with sporadic wilted trees and jagged ledges, terrible terrain for concealment. The center bares thick forest that would be excellent camouflage but the dense woods would be unbreakable, they’d track me down and kill me in no time.
    The gun keeps winding its way counter clockwise. It’s a quarter turn from setting its sights squarely on me. I keep bracing my shaking back to the door as the foreigners drive at it from inside the tunnel. My feet slip marginally but I hold steady, waiting for the right moment.
    I steal one last look to the right. The landscape slopes downward but at the edge of my peripheral vision I see an animal trail breaking its way through the dense woods. I hold my position and focus.
    My actions have to be perfect, anything less will mean death. The gun makes its last adjustment, positioning itself directly at my chest. This is it. I release my feet from the ground, pivoting my body to the right. I spin away from the door just as the foreigners slam into it a second time. Without my body bracing the exit, it flies open. I’m shielded by twelve-inches of steel door. Thunder storms from the barrel of the craft and the foreigners are met head-on with raining gunfire that was meant for me.
    Their screams are wild as sick gurgling noises escape them. Their bodies drop to the ground plagued with bullet holes. Three hundred feet stand between me and the chance of survival. I hear the clicking of the gun as it refocuses its sights.
    I have less than a second to act. I dig my feet hard into the ground, sprinting full force toward the animal trail. Thunderous popping echoes from the gun. I run in and out of its path.
    Bullets fly by so close that I actually feel the heat against my skin. I weave my path in an unpredictable manner attempting to avoid the bullets. The ground bursts all around me as bullets strike the dirt.
    Only one hundred and fifty feet left. I’m halfway there, I just might make it. I veer to the left and unfathomable pain takes hold. Deep searing pain radiates through my left thigh. Hot blood pours down my leg. My instincts tell me to run but the pain threatens to destroy me. I’ve been hit.
    I stumble once, on my way down I see images of Emma perched on the bed as I braid her hair and Garrett splashing in the