Who: Ben Hawkins What: I would bound myself in a nutshell and call myself king of an infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams Where: Outside the Apartments When: This weekend Warnings:
The silence was deafening, in the moments after the air raid. The lingering vibration in the air hummed in his ears. He didn't dare move for the first ten minutes or so. And when he did, finally chance it and shift ever so slightly, he immediately regretted it. A fresh burst of gun fire sounded, the shots close and loud. Pain throbbed at his arms and legs, which he recognised to be bleeding stumps, the limbs torn off in the fire fight.
He woke breathing hard and sweating. Rolling on his side, he fell out of the bed. Adrenaline pushed him to his feet, and set him in motion. He could still hear the pop of gun fire, though farther away and less immediate. He stumbled out of the apartment and into the hall way. All but falling down the steps, he rushed outside into the warm afternoon sun.
Clothes unkempt, his hair stuck up in every direction. With glazed and dazed eyes he scanned the horizon, and then took off at a steady run.