Later that day, I was awoken by the stern hand of Clara. Looking up, I saw the girl look at me; I thought I detected a faint hint of wariness in her compelling gaze. I didn't blame her. This mission endangered their lives, and they didn't know our whole motives for being here. With difficulty, I had restrained myself from telling the others what Robyn had told me, though the matter swirled around my brain in a most pensive and musing manner.
"We've found something that could serve as a stretcher." She informed me, her lips pursing. In apprehension? Dislike? It was hard to tell. Hastily smoothing down my ruffled hair - although I had scarcely washed it or brushed it for the whole of this escapade - I nodded in acknowledgement to the news, glancing behind me to where Robyn was currently situated. Etched into her freckled features were signs of agony, and her leg was stretched in front of her in the most carless manner. Apparently, it seemed she was attempting to stretch and exercise the injured limb, something even I knew was starkly stupid. "So," Clara said, following my gaze. "Belle has concerns for that one. No matter how much she cajoles her into staying still and resting, she keeps trying to do something short of bloody acrobatics." Her tone was irritable.
Sorrowfully, I sighed. In all honesty, I should've expected something like this to happen. Robyn was haughty, headstrong and as obstinate as a mule. "I know. I'm sorry." I murmured. "She's been through some tough times, tell Belle to tell her--"
"No, you tell her. Belle told me that if the wound wasn't rested and kept still quickly, there's a chance infection could creep in." Clara interjected curtly. Seeing my frown, she softened slightly, resting her calloused hand on my shoulders. "I know everything is hard but right now Robyn is an unwanted load. We have the stretcher but it'll take two or three people to carry it. However, it'll take ages for it to heal properly." She lowered her voice, seemingly sympathetic. "It might be better to leave her behind when we get going."
"No!" I exclaimed, louder than anticipated. But even my noisy words couldn't stir Robyn from her feverish antics. "I'm sorry but that is not a possibility. She's lost so much. To leave her here - to leave her to die - would be the most horrible thing we could do. I know she would limp and crawl to the finish line; she'll do everything she can to help. So she's coming. She's coming whether you like it or not." Fighting back tears, I rose to my feet and started walking toward Robyn. The only indication that Clara wasn't pursuing was a huff and the sound of retreating footsteps.
Slowly, I sat beside Robyn. I had to stare at her for a few moments before her attention averted. Sweat glistened on her muddied forehead; faint crimson stained the bandage we had replaced countless times. Managing to stifle any tears, I offered a feeble smile. "Hey." My voice resonated softly, as if I was talking to a naughty child who needs coercing into behaving better. Clearing my throat, I started again. It would do Robyn no good if I was implying she was weak. "That leg needs to heal, Robyn. Stretching it that flamboyantly won't do it much good."
"It's healing." Robyn whispered. "I know what I'm doing."
Chewing my lip, I scrutinised her properly, taking in her full form with worried dismay. Her figure was shaking like a leaf in a breeze, looking like she was about to be plucked by the wind and whisked away. Her face was ashen and haggard, any indication of courage or passion she had displayed the day before lost. And her eyes... they were screaming, screaming with the demons only she could hear. Frantically, I held my hand on hers, not liking the way it jittered like a skeleton. "Robyn please. Its not healing. Please listen!" Why did my words have to sound so pathetic? This wasn't going to help! Maybe nothing would ever help...
"I am listening. I have ears, don't I?" Was all she muttered, not ceasing to contort her injured leg in the most strenuous manner. It was rather horrid to look at. My concern for both her injury and mental wellbeing was reaching an anxious crescendo, a concert of all the things I wished I could make right. It pounded my skull and twisted my ears. I felt asphyxiated, lost, morose...
"Robyn!" I shouted. Blearily, she turned to look at me, her dark green eyes chilling my very soul. "Go to sleep, alright? You need your rest." It was the only thing I could think of doing; sleep. If she was dozing her leg couldn't be paying the price for her dwindling sanity, I was hoping it would help her.
Ignoring me, Robyn's shaking increased. "He's not coming back, is he?" She whispered in a dejected manner.
Wiping a sweat-drenched lock of auburn hair from her burning forehead, I shook my head. "He is coming back. You need to believe it. When he returns, he won't want to see you like this..."
Under my touch, the younger girl rested her head, eyes closing. It was only a faint victory.
Once I was sure my leaving wouldn't disturb her, I stood up, a long sigh escaping me. Walking through our temporary camp, I paused when I saw Belle. "Robyn has a fever. She's sleeping..." I didn't add any more. The petite girl nodded and traversed past me. Carrying on, I soon saw Stephen, standing dormant as he stood guard. Hoping he wouldn't see how distraught I was, I joined him, remaining taciturn as I surveyed the area.
Soon, he asked, "How are you?"
"Adequate, given the situation." I murmured, not explaining any further. Observing me, Stephen nodded, his fingers clutching the gun at his side. Nothing more was said, we wallowed in the silence.
After a while, Stephen stirred, moving his gun to a ready position. "There's someone out there."
"Don't shoot." I hastily said. Stephen looked confused my nodded, keeping his eyes on whatever he spotted. Following his gaze, I saw a stumbling silhouette, too haggard and humanlike to be a robot. Chris?
It seemed Robyn had seen this figure, because her voice rang out, devastatingly loud. "Chris! Chris!" Hearing the voice, he sprinted toward Robyn. The closer he got, the more recognisable features I could distinguish. Chris! It was Chris!
"Tell your team not to shoot. He's a friend." I told Stephen hurriedly, and he slipped away. I started making my way to Robyn, a smile spreading across my face.
I faltered, however, when a mechanical whir greeted my ears. I knew that sound... "No!"
There was only time for Chris's and Robyn's lips to touch before a symphony of death rang out.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The first bullet hit Chris in the foot.
The second in the back.
The third in the head.
YOU ARE READING
Monotone | ✔️
Action"If we were so riveted in the spectrum of nature, why did we stand, petrified, as we became corrupted by idle technology, stupefied by glowing screens, stolen from life as we know it from enemies right under our noses? Why did we relent to this obvi...
