Last Moments

[Justin Silverblade]

How ironic that we should not live, but die. That we should not enjoy, but endure. That we should not have innocent ignorant lust, but have love and lost. Our lives revolve around that which is at the end of the road, whilst we live life out in our travels. Here I live to but die. My travel is all but over and I see a grim end to my road.

 

I have witnessed one of the greatest tragedies of human kind. I have seen my comrades fight, and die for what they believe in. I have seen their families support them throughout their choices. I have seen the end of an era of beautiful life, and it was all for naught.

 

I rallied them to be. I led them to battle. I fell beside them. And now, my enemy prevails… My work, my life: fallacious.

 

“Hurry now! We’re close… just two floors down.” Paul said, rushing his armed team towards to stairs. Nine of the city’s finest rebel troops had volunteered to take part in a rescue mission of the most deadly peril. Within the cells of one of the darkest prisons of all the country their task led them. Their leader, their inspiration to resist the iron fist of dictatorship, and that had led them to freedom in countless other lands, had been captured and sentenced to death. They were here to make sure that didn’t happen.

 

“Sir! They’re coming ‘round the corner!” The heavy and quick steps of security could be heard all around the halls now. The team was in the complex, and had been discovered.

 

“Prepare yourselves,” Paul replied, readying his gun, but waving his troops though. A couple of men stopped beside him and prepared to fight. “Fight and retreat, we must find Yahle.”

 

My passion, ripped from my soul. Now I wait to die.

 

The shouts came from behind Paul, as he hurried with his men down the next set of stairs. “John’s down, John’s down!” The place seemed endless, and with each retreat they took down into the dank halls of the prison, they lost hope of finding what they sought, and escaping.

 

“Keep going! We can’t go back for him,” was Paul’s only reply.

 

In a quick and silent recount, woe is recalled to the party: “@#%$, Larua’s gone too.”

 

I hear the footsteps now. The footsteps of my doom, have come, finally. A wasted life is mine: useless, and now forgotten. Only time will bring an end to it.

 

“We can make it!” pressed on Paul. “Just one more floor!” And indeed it was. The blueprints they had obtained would show that Yahle was being held a mere one floor below them, and two hallways west. Shouts could be heard more intensively now, and the rapid calling to arms and before the group could start up again, gunfire. ‘God help us make it…’

 

Arrives my fate, a man with simple intent: to bring me to my jailor, and thus my end. Simply, I am lifted, carried. I see no point to resist, but will not walk myself. My will was not meant for the enemy. A mocking stare by him, I care not.

 

It was all Paul could do, but keep them going. The cornered hallways and stairs allowed them chance amid the fighting. “Go! Go! Go!”

 

“Sir, we’ve lost Nala and Rihn.” More deaths reported; sacrifices to hope and leadership.

 

Room after room passes my gaze, empty cells. I am the last left. No one is left to aid me, to instill the same hope that I, but days ago, wasted upon my friends. Nothing left in the game of cards I so vigilantly worked at. So this is how my hand plays out. Not a house of full, with which to win…

 

The reports were seldom, and quick. They darted around a corner for a breather and defense. “We’re down to four now sir. Karren an-“ A scream muffled the cry. There was three.

 

Not three of the same, with which to fight

 

“We must not give up! Remember what Yahle said!” Paul had to inttrupt himself with gunfire, and his enemies fell with screams. “Do not let go!” They were on the awaited floor, their beloved leader should be upon them soon, and then a quick escape. All depended on that. ‘Just a few more hallways, just a few more…’

 

No flush of colour to scorn my enemies or spread ways.

 

A final shout of gunfire, and the hallways stood for a moment quiet. “There! His cell is just around the corner. Charlie! Charlie!?!” Amongst there enemy had fallen more kin. The dampened blackness echoed a summoning of more enemies.

 

“He’s gone Vick, it’s me and you. Let’s find Yahle,” Paul urged.

 

Not even a single pair, with which to place that sole bet, indeed no reason to play.

 

“Made it! Paul, we made it! His cell’s right down here.” The triumph was enough. The sacrifices had been worth it. Now they could free their friend, and hurry out. Yahle! Yahle!” The cell was empty. “@#%$, Paul… He’s gone. He’s not here… Paul? Paul!?!” Overwhelming gunfire could be heard.

 

Might as well fold the hand.

 

Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 9/28/02 11:57:06 pm

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha