Run.
The only prevalent thought coursing through my feverish mind.
The only thing stronger than the rapid beating of my own pounding heart.
An entire chunk of the building behind us blasts off its foundation with a deafening boom. Dirt and debris rain down on us like an apocalyptic storm, but not once do we stop moving. No, we keep running, running for our lives, because the second we take a break, that's when it all ends.
And I can't let that happen.
"Fall back!" I hear people shriek, coming from every possible direction. It echoes inside my head, bounces off the walls of my skull, fuels my throbbing migraine, and it never ends. It never, ever ends.
I scramble over the pony wall, collapsing to the hard ground on the other side. My chest rattles with tremendous booms as the rest of my group topples down next to me. This isn't secure cover. This isn't secure at all.
How are we supposed to get out of here?
Smoke and dust burn my lungs. Dirt cakes my skin, my hair, my clothes. My ears ring and scream with the echoes of the war, and I can't move. My limbs are frozen, blood turning to sludge in my veins. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't do anything, and that only feeds the paralyzing fear taking hold of me.
Ear-splitting gunshots mingle with the booms of the tanks. I don't dare peer out from behind the pony wall, but I can just barely see two Nazis atop an old church, firing a machine gun down on us as we try to flee.
I'm going to be sick. We're never getting out of here alive.
"Gerard!" Phil's frantic voice is like a distant cry in my ears. He grabs my arms, shakes me to consciousness, his eyes wide with pure terror. "Take a group and go find Jack! He has a grenade launcher that can take out those gunmen! We'll hold off the tank!"
Adrenaline surges through me, a massive tidal wave of fear unlike any other. Find Jack. Take out the gunmen. Escape this town with our lives. Seemingly simple tasks, and yet they loom over my head like a ravenous beast.
We don't have much time. We have to find Jack before the tank does. We have to go, and we have to go now.
I'm taking Mikey with me. No questions asked. I'm not letting him out of my sight in the midst of this hell zone. Both Brendon and Mark offer to come with me, too, and despite the suffocating fear in the air around us, none of us hesitate to venture out and find Jack.
He's our only chance at getting out of this town alive.
The four of us leave the flimsy cover of the pony wall. Gunshots resonate in the stifling air, the ear-shattering booms of the tanks destroying house after house. Every breath I take shovels a new handful of dust down my throat. Each step burns my muscles. Each breath stabs my lungs. Pure fear is keeping my system functioning, and I'm not sure how much longer it'll stay that way.
We scurry for cover behind an old brick building, just as the enemy tank blasts a hole in the side of the wall. Dense chunks of brick clatter to the ground, showering us with dust and dirt. Thankfully no one gets hurt, but it was far too close for comfort.
"Jack!" Mark cries out, his voice nearly swept away by the deafening sounds of the fight. "Jack, where are you?!"
"C'mon, you little Irish bastard!" Brendon hollers. His chest heaves with a terrible cough, his skin slick with sweat and coated with dust. "We need your help! Jack!"
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The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|
Fanfiction"You are never coming home." * * * There are some days in life you'll never forget. Your first date, perhaps, or even your first kiss. Maybe even your first experience with death, because not all of these days have to be good. Some of these day...
