Blood

Life and Death (35)

We finish here. Last chapter. Absolute must to play music video with this chapter.

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It’s become instinct. It is instinct.          

The feeling of your legs driving forward, feet pounding the ground so hard it almost hurts.

Well, that’s all instinct now.

In the wild, you get two classes: the predators and the prey. A lion is a predator, strong and powerful, able to kill with a swipe of its claws. A horse is prey – it runs from danger, does not attack and only survives thanks to a will to live.

It’s the same for humans really; either you’re a predator and your only enemies are the stronger predators, or you’re the prey and you fear everything – nothing is as weak and helpless as you. Most people are prey, but you will get some predators. Then again, predators vary. The only predators a soldier has are the predators up against him, the other soldiers in other words, vice versa.

A thief has a few predators. The police would be one and, for him, his prey are the people he steals from.

The people, the normal citizens, peasants, whatever you want to call them, are prey. Prey to thieves, gangsters, terrorists, everyone who can carry and has a weapon. What peasant carries a gun? Or any other weapon for that matter?

I used to think I was a predator – I carried a knife and a gun, knew what to do when it came down to fighting with my fists, and was able to survive in the wild, able to kill. Things have changed though. I was never really a predator; I was never one at heart, but now I know my place. I am the prey and I am weak. I don’t stay and fight, I run and run I will.

My legs moved faster, driving me on. My arms worked harder, pushing me forwards. My heart beat faster, keeping me alive. The adrenaline was so thick in my system that only one thought coursed through my mind: run and survive.

I swung around a corner, not even seeing where I was going, my body scraping against the cold concrete of the building.

Shouts echoed behind me, egging me on, making me faster.

My lungs stretched to accompany the air I needed, my heart trying to get the oxygen around my body to match the speed I required.

I imagined the black horse from weeks before, even months now. How fast he could gallop, how fast he could run. The way his legs stretched to propel him forward, how heavy his heartbeats were between my legs.

I wished I could run that fast, wished that I could keep going that long but however much I try to convince myself I can do it, it is not within my physical capabilities. Probably not in my mental either.

Somebody appeared right in front of me, I’m not sure who, and I slammed right into him and her, knocking the person to the ground as I sprinted past.

More yells were thrown in my direction but I did not regret it – I was far past caring, this was survival now.

My body was beginning to cave, beginning to shout its protest but I pushed it, I pushed Monique and I pushed myself.

Monique was now fully immersed with me. We were one and our minds worked as one as if there was just one person. Not a word came from her and her urgency became my own.

I span around another corner, slipping on the wet tarmac yet somehow keeping my balance.

The shouts behind me were becoming louder and there had to be at least three people in my pursuit if not more.