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Lucille
Shouts surrounded her and gunshots sent a high pitched ringing to her ear. Lucille stumbled to the edge of the field, emerging from the weeds into the street. Her father had made it to the camp well before her; she had heard the gunshots before she had even left the streaks of trees by her house.
To each side, there were men shooting at each other. They were easy to tell apart and it was obvious that her father's side was dominating. Lucille pulled the gun from her pocket and made her way out into the chaos of the street, eyes wide open in search of her father.
It didn't take long to find him, he was hobbling more than usual, making his way to the side of the street. She ran after him, her gun held protectively in her hand. She watched as a soldier spotted him, holding up his own gun. But Lucille acted fast, shooting two bullets toward him, both of them hitting its target.
Lucille almost scoffed to herself, her father hadn't realised her presence nor the fact that she had stopped a German soldier from shooting him. She continued down the street, ducking behind cars while watching as he met up with two men, allowing them to help drag him to another place. Bullets flew over their heads, but they managed to disappear around a corner.
With her gun in her trembling hand, Lucille searched around her. Noticing a car with its door wide open, abandoned in the rush of the fight. She jumped into the front seat, seeking out the ignition and pushing her foot down on the peddle forcefully. The car stuttered at first, jerking her forward into the wheel. But once it started, she swerved slightly, before gaining control of the wheel, speeding down the street.
As she drove down the next street, searching for the boards of men that had started to retreat, she spotted two prisoners, both stumbling around the street, two soldiers hot on their heels. She flinched hearing two gun shots, one after the other. She watched one German fall. The man who had been holding the other up in front, had also been short, and had somehow stumbled around the corner.
Lucille swallowed her anxiety and pressed her foot down on the accelerator. The already slow car, grumbled in annoyance, but she forced it forward.
"No. No. No." she repeated to her self as she watched the remaining German hold his gun up, aiming it around the street corner as he ran.
Lucille kept driving straight, loosing distance between herself and the soldier. The noise of the car must have notified him of her gaining speed, as he turned around quickly, instead aiming his gun at the windshield. She squealed, closing her eyes, as the glass shattered, raining down over the wheel. The bullet could be heard flying and hurrying itself in the seat beside her.
Lucille kept her eyes closed as she pushed her foot against the peddle one last time, humming to herself so she wouldn't think of what she had to do. The dirt groaned loudly beneath the churning tyres, but it's clamour was no match for the crashing thump that sounded from the car bonnet.
At last, Lucille spun the wheel sharply, turning the car to face the escaped prisoners. They both now lay flat, almost lifeless. But they were very much alive, unlike the soldier that lay meters away. Lucille didn't let herself think.
Most of her father's group had already managed to retreat, escaping in multiple direction. The two stragglers were the only ones she had seen so far back, but the soldiers would be pouncing one them soon, and so she clambered out of the car and opened the boot, before stepping swiftly toward the two boys.
The first of the two had sandy, blond hair and a pinched nose. He had been shot twice, and grumbled moans in his sleep. She pulled him by his long legs toward the car, dropping him by the boot. She just needed to get him in.
"Wake up." She shouted and shook him harshly by the shoulders, earning nothing more than an incoherent mumble in response. "Wake up!"
Upon realising that she wouldn't gain an answer, she took him by the legs, angling his body against the car, so she could use her arms to shuffle him in gradually. Lucille grunted. Thanks to the layers of uniform, he was heavier than he looked.
She returned to the last soldier, a young man with dark hair and stronger features. He had been the one carrying the other, and yet he had a dislocated shoulder and a gun wound. Repeating the process once again, Lucille dragged him and placed him in the back of the car this time, laying him flat, angled so he wasn't obvious.
She glanced at the man in her car, dragging her eyes over his fatigued figure.
What the hell am I doing? The thought continued to prod at her mind.
German orders and commands grew closer, making her heart beat also grow louder by the minute. Before leaving, Lucille hurried toward the soldier that she had hit. In his hand was a small rifle, she pried it away. In his pocket he had a hand gun. She tucked the smaller one in the boot- just in case. The larger was placed beside her hidden by the chair in the front of the vehicle.
Before the German's could catch up, Lucille shakily drove away, heading for the back roads of the city, heading toward the French country side. She just hoped her father made it back too.
