The Tag Bearer

Chapter 11 - Freedom

Without warning, someone shoved me to the ground. I lay there, winded and bruised against the metal tray as bullets tore through the canvas covering. They whirred past my head like tiny torpedoes as I squished my face uncomfortably against the alloy.

Through the flap of the canvas tent, Officers ran into standoff positions with their guns behind barriers. They steadied themselves against anything they could find in their rush; aiming and shooting rapidly at something I couldn't see.

Drone's buzzed in a maniacal pattern. Confused, they began beeping loudly, attempting to identify foes. A steady red light emitted from them as they shot large bullets at anything that dared to move. The Drones couldn't hold themselves together. I imagined their small microchips were overloaded with information, pointing to the exact reason they failed to be effective law enforcers pre-war.

Whenever a mass shooting occurred, they were there, rushing back and forth across the scene, shooting at absolutely everyone. Gunning down everyone that moved was their style, even a scattering of pigeons was enough to set them off. Perfectly useless machines.

I don't know why they didn't just terminate them all after they first defected. Maybe they'd invested too much into them to kill off the program? Whatever it was, they were here now, being utilised by a group who tattooed themselves with an angel skull.

The scene was one bloody mess. Officers slumped over, sliding to the ground and leaving their own running paint stain wherever they fell. Eyeballing the scene I was presented with, I debated whether to run. If I did no one would notice, but there was always a chance I could be killed accidentally by a stray bullet.

If I could, I would take those odds, they were better than dying without a fight via Sergeant Hill's hand. But I was frozen stiff, and I began to panic. Was it just in my head? Had I possibly been hit?

My hands desperately searched up and down my body. My clothes, although ripped, were not soaked in anyone's blood. I was not in any immense pain, nor did I wince. I was battered and bruised and that was it. I let out an unheard sigh of relief. I was going to survive another day. No, I wanted to survive another day.

Satisfied with the self-diagnosis, I wriggled myself towards the edge of the vehicle.

The ground looked so far away from here. And rock hard too. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. This was it! All I had to do was drop onto the ground. Here was freedom, welcoming me, begging me, into its open arms.

I clutched the rim of the trailer, a rush of adrenaline making me giddy, and began to slowly push myself up. I smiled. Freedom was really here, an arm's length away. Totally attainable. I hadn't even had time to process it yet! I closed my eyes, relishing in the moment. I was going to be free at last! No more tagging bodies. No more cruel sightings. Just freedom.  

Maybe I'd go and live up in the bush again? Who knows if the Bushman would still be wandering the forests? I sure hoped he was. A familiar face, although our encounter was brief, would be more than welcoming at this point. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. So, this is what freedom must smell like: pine wood and frosty dew drops. I smiled, relishing in the sweetness of it all. My elbows went up and I gently eased my way forward.

"Freedo-" I began to yell out. 

"Stay right where you are, miss!" a bellowing voice ordered from behind me, making me come crashing back down in despair. My hands went white as I squeezed tighter on the rim of the trailer. Anger and adrenaline are not a great mix. I turned, in utter spite, towards the uncanny voice. 

Sergeant Hill stood with his feet shoulder width apart, smiling callously. He didn't notice, nor care about the bullets still whizzing past him. He was invincible, like a supervillain before his downfall. His piercing eyes were a crazed daze directed at me and his face was contorted with a mixture of disgust and anguished anger as he scanned me.