Thread: Line of Sight (Survivor00 & ohstefyelectric)

Senka darted from street to street, her boots pounding a fevered rhythm against the broken pavement. Her breath streamed from her lungs, her rifle smacking against her side with each step. The distant thump of tank fire reverberated within her chest. Rushing from an alley, gunfire erupted around her ?? theirs or the enemy??s, she wasn??t able to tell. Chips of shattered asphalt and dust exploded around her feet, pelting her legs. A sharp stinging creased her back and she yelped, stumbling, almost falling, but she plowed on past the burnt wreck of an overturned van, the vehicle offering her at least partial shelter. ?? Fuck! ? She shouted, reaching behind her to press her hand against her back. There was no hole ?? the bullet had only skimmed her ?? but her hand still came back red. She hissed, wiping her hand on her pant leg, smearing the fabric with her blood. Bojan crashed down beside her, panting from the exertion. ?? Senka! You??re hit! ? He said with wide eyes. Miraculously, he had charged through the hailstorm of bullets unscathed. ?? No shit! ? She screamed back at him, ?? Now keep your head down! ? Bullets sparked off the metal of the bus, cracking loudly into the air. An RPG round streaked overhead, plunging into the wall of a building down the street where it detonated with a shower of brick and dust. There was the squeal of protesting tires, and a dusty green pickup truck veered around the corner, the machine gun in the back burping loudly. Bullet holes laced the windshield in seconds, blood splashing the inside of the cab. It turned sharply, flipping onto its side and tossing the man ?? or it could have been a woman ?? mounting the machine gun into the street. ?? We??ve got to keep moving! ? Senka shouted to Bojan, looking for an escape from the growing battle. She couldn??t be afraid, she couldn??t freeze up ?? not here, that would get both her and Bojan killed. They were only a few blocks away from the former school that now served as their current ??base??. If they could get out of this battle, they should have a clear path to safety. She slowly began to creep over towards the building that the van had ground itself against, trying to stay as low as possible to avoid the crossfire. ?? Come on. ? She said, crawling towards the doorframe. The building was nearly gutted by fire, the paint seared off the inside, just gray soot and ash. She doubted its structural integrity, but it would serve to get them away from the battle. Bullets continued to crack and ricochet behind them as they wormed their way through the collapsed building, keeping low to avoid being stuck by a wayward shot. She ducked under a portion of collapsed ceiling, coughing slightly from a cloud of soot that was stirred up by their passage. Climbing out the opposite window into the next street, she sighed, brushing some of the soot from her clothes. She saw no government soldiers, which meant that they still controlled this area?for now. Another tank fired again in the distance, and she heard the sound of collapsing rubble and the shattering of glass accompany the blast. She sucked a breath of smoke-filled air into her lungs, trying to steady her frayed nerves. There was so much adrenaline running through her veins that she was nearly shaking. She walked towards the mortared school. Barbed wire and sandbags lined the pockmarked walls, graffiti scrawled on the gray concrete. Bizarrely, she could swear that she heard?music?echoing faintly from within the building. She rushed inside, now hearing the music clearly now. Who in their right mind would be playing music at a time like this?! ?? Is there anyone going after that fucking T-72? ? She shouted, walking over to the maps on the wall. As if to give her words more urgency, there was a muffled report in the distance. The baritone thrum of the cello in her ears was another distraction ?? a far more welcome one, perhaps ?? but in her rattled state, right now she just wanted calm, something she would not find in a warzone. ?? Senka, are you alright? ? Bojan asked her, referring to the wound on her back. Senka sighed heavily. ?? Yes, Bojan, I am fine. Go tend to your mother. She needs you. ? She said, carrying her rifle out of the room. Gunfire rattled from the windows as she walked, shell casings littered the floor. Unceremoniously, she pulled off her ragged, soot-covered hoodie and the blood-stained shirt beneath, leaving her topless. Like many of the refugees, she was thin and dirty, her build almost gymnastic. Her lower back was caked with her blood from where the bullet had grazed her. She was lucky, a few centimeters to the right and it would have struck her spine. Senka walked into a rubble-filled room ?? rather surprised to find the source of the music here. The rich notes emerged from a nearly pristine cello, played by a young woman ?? one that could not be older than her. She was not from here ?? she looked too healthy ?? which made her wonder just what she was doing here. But right now, she had other things to take care of. She grabbed a rag, one that was nearly as dirty as the shirt she had pulled off, and ran it under a broken pipe, soaking it through. She needed to clean the wound so it wouldn??t get infected. She listened to the music the woman played. She was quite talented with the instrument. Senka felt a flare of anger and jealousy flare up in her stomach, that this woman had been able to grow up learning this talent, unlike her. ??You. Give me a hand...? She spoke in English, her words accented with her Slavic tongue, holding out the washcloth to her.