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I could hear them. They were coming; and they were close. The heavy patter of four tired feet on the hot, oily pavement was nowhere near enough to drown out the crack of gunfire behind us, the roaring in my brain trying, begging me to give myself up. Not that I'd ever give in to it. Nothing was going to stop the two of us from our desperate, mad dash to anywhere that would provide hospitality from them.
He stopped, stopped on a dime, the way he always could and that I always envied him for. As I put my foot down, skidding across the thin layer of iridescent oil coating the ground I stared at him.
"What are you doing?!" I demanded, hearing them come closer every fraction of a second.
He stared at me, expressionless, eyes boring into mine with pure concentrated determination. I knew that look, too well. It meant that he had an idea, and that nothing in hell was going to stop him from fulfilling it, no matter the cost.
He reached into his pocket and dug around for a second, then puled a small, light blue object bearing a silver star from his pocket. The lighter.
"No," I pleaded this time, my voice cracking at the end, full of begging, hopelessness, despair.
He flicked it on, hitting the switch that would leave the flame going even without him holding down the button. I could see the reflection of the tiny, perfect flame in his eyes – eyes starved for freedom, only now devouring what could very well have been out only chance at it, but our inevitable demise as well. Those were the eyes of someone who was too far gone, too desperate for any hope to be consoled or reasoned with.
Still, I repeated myself.
"No."
He tossed the lighter to the ground about ten feet away, and I stood mortified as it hit the oily ground with a tiny "click."
Flame instantly spread across the ground, screaming, thickening by the second.
Still, he said nothing, so I took it upon myself to burst as far away as possible from the growing inferno. The air was practically solid with smoke, and soon I became over-encumbered, dropping to my knees. I couldn't go any further. There was no way.
He hadn't followed, and I assumed he was facing a similar situation. Though we had escaped the ones following us (or had we?), there was a much bigger, more soulless threat.
And there was definitely no escape from this one.

Description
I could hear them. They were coming; and they were close. The heavy patter of four tired feet on the hot, oily pavement was nowhere near enough to drown out the crack of gunfire behind us, the roaring in my brain trying, begging me to give myself up. Not that I'd ever give in to it. Nothing was going to stop the two of us from our desperate, mad dash to anywhere that would provide hospitality from them.
He stopped, stopped on a dime, the way he always could and that I always envied him for. As I put my foot down, skidding across the thin layer of iridescent oil coating the ground I stared at him.
"What are you doing?!" I demanded, hearing them come closer every fraction of a second.
He stared at me, expressionless, eyes boring into mine with pure concentrated determination. I knew that look, too well. It meant that he had an idea, and that nothing in hell was going to stop him from fulfilling it, no matter the cost.
He reached into his pocket and dug around for a second, then puled a small, light blue object bearing a silver star from his pocket. The lighter.
"No," I pleaded this time, my voice cracking at the end, full of begging, hopelessness, despair.
He flicked it on, hitting the switch that would leave the flame going even without him holding down the button. I could see the reflection of the tiny, perfect flame in his eyes – eyes starved for freedom, only now devouring what could very well have been out only chance at it, but our inevitable demise as well. Those were the eyes of someone who was too far gone, too desperate for any hope to be consoled or reasoned with.
Still, I repeated myself.
"No."
He tossed the lighter to the ground about ten feet away, and I stood mortified as it hit the oily ground with a tiny "click."
Flame instantly spread across the ground, screaming, thickening by the second.
Still, he said nothing, so I took it upon myself to burst as far away as possible from the growing inferno. The air was practically solid with smoke, and soon I became over-encumbered, dropping to my knees. I couldn't go any further. There was no way.
He hadn't followed, and I assumed he was facing a similar situation. Though we had escaped the ones following us (or had we?), there was a much bigger, more soulless threat.
And there was definitely no escape from this one.