Teenage Angst

rebellious teenagers wreak havoc on a poverty stricken city.

The collapse of the tunnel isn’t what stunted out escape. It was an unfortunate accident, resulting in more than one death, but I stand firm in believing that whether or not the roof caved in - we were doomed from the start. The shoulders to bear these mistakes, laid quite clearly to my right, unmoving. My lungs convulsed, in the compacted air ridden with dust and rubble. Wiping my eyes with my gloved hand, I struggled to turn my body, which was pressed beneath the pillars that had failed. Wrapping my trembling fingers around the hem of the guy’s shirt, I pulled him as much I could towards me. He stirred, writhing in my grip.

When I was within reach, My covered hand bent around his naked neck. His eyes shot open.

“The tunnel, really?” I asked through gritted teeth, forcing my fist down. Trying to wrench myself free from the wooden stocks, I was able to turn over and squeeze harder. He mumbled out something, harsh but quiet. Please, maybe. I heard our other partners at my left, getting ready to go, to dig through and find an exit. The boy beneath me, whimpered. His mistakes will cost him, hard. I looked at his feet, crushed beneath the piles of rock, and grinned.

“Maybe I don’t kill you,” I said easily and smiled, tension in my hand released and his chest heaved, “You’re a cripple already, and they’ll find you,” I urged, “But, honestly, you’re such a worm already. You wouldn’t think twice about double crossing your family,” I said in a high voice, my eyebrows furrowed,  as if it were a question.

He was crying now, in pain or shock, or knowing what was to come. He shook his head weakly, again and again.

The movement was painful, but I managed, twisting my shoulder back to retrieve the knife strapped at my side. His breath grew rapidly and he started to plead at sight of the blade. I tsked at him.

“I won’t make it hurt,” I cooed gently. He started to panic.

“I won’t say anything,” he wheezed and coughed, “I swear,” and I shrugged as much as I could laying down

“You don’t deserve the comfort of prison,”

The blood emptied, spilling over,  a growing mass of violent red. I sheathed the stained blade. Wiggling my way, until I was free, I stood shakily. A slicing pain burned at my legs, I turned to look, only to see the gashes embedded in my calves and thighs. Limping, I joined the three others that recovered from the rocks, huddled in a dusty group. The tallest boy smiled at me with sly resolution.

“I like that little worm of yours. Squirmed his way right into the dirt, didn’t he?” he jabbed

“I took care of it,” I sneered back, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“Guys, you can flirt later,” a girl with torn up cheek interjected, “First things first, we got twenty pigs on our asses, and let’s just say were up a creek without a f*****g paddle,”

Half of our group was buried under dirt, and that left Yakob, Kell, Petyr, and me. Kell and Yakob sported two silver handguns, cocked in their tense hands. Petyr held an axe, his hand right under it’s head for close combat. I brandished my knife from it’s holster, still red and sticky from the veins it had cut. Kicking and digging up the rubble from where it laid, it just collapsed down with more to come. Even if we did make it through, uniformed men marched on the other side, waiting. I ran my fingers through my twiney hair, sweat glistened on everyone’s forehead. The air was hot, almost suffocating. We heard the echoing barking, emitting from the opposite sides.

“f*****g hounds,” Petyr breathed, his voice laced with toxicity

“Okay, okay,” I sighed, “We don’t have a choice,” I declared, “We wait for them to dig through-”

Petyr formed a gun with his fingers, aimed at the enclave.

“Pow,” he hissed, firing his imaginary gun.

“Right,” I answered.

We hid our weapons, trying to look as innocent and victimized as possible, when they finally broke through. There were less than ten, thank god, the tunnel wasn’t wide enough for more. Navy blue with glinting badges, stiff gun holding positions, they made me sick. A flashlight illuminated the cave, shining directly into our ashen faces. I held back the urge to spit on their boots. A voice barked at us.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!”

“LAY FACE DOWN NOW!”

It was the regular slate of instructions. After a second, they stepped it up a notch.

“WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO SHOOT!”

It was as good as any other signal, as me and Petyr simultaneously dropped to the dirt floor, which startled the officers but looked like we were obeying orders. We both heard the knees of our companions hit the dirt behind us. Kell’s and Yacob's pistols appeared from their jackets like shining stars. Bullets pierced the uneven wall behind us, dirt mingled with blood exploding everywhere. As the front two officers fell forward, I jumped up. The edge of my knife serrating the neck of the first one, disappearing into the stomach of the second. Petyr’s ax hacked away, swinging every direction with pockets of blood bursting at every impact.

We disappeared into the darkness, bodies of our family dead in the caverns of a buried coal mine. Humor was bare that night, and bad moods ran like wildfire.

We sat around a fire, in the desert. The embers slept in the tan dirt, and smoke turned white in the black sky. We drew the names of the dead with our fingers on the tawny ground, excluding the little worm we gutted. The others, Kell and Yakob, laid back on the piles of dust, fingers still curled around the butt of pistols. I drew away from them. There was an old junk car, abandoned next to our camp, but far away enough for some privacy. I sat on the rusted out old hood, my legs dangled, created a soft dinging as the rubber of my boots tapped the steel of the bumper.

The crackling flames were an easy tune, and cast a cloak of light like a ball of life in the dark, still desert. I twirled a silver knife in my chilled fingers, my eyes caught on the wink of orange shine of the blade’s body. A figure emerged from the darkness, outreaching hands that wrapped around my wrists, and pulled itself closer. A barely suppressed smile reached my mouth, the figure placed my hands around it’s neck. Petyr’s eyes ignited the darkness, like the smoldering ashes in the camp. His hands were warm against my skin, and I melted into them. The knife was still clutched in my hand, and I traced the cold metal along his neck, he eyes bled with mischievousness. Suddenly his fists ripped the jacket from my shoulders, wrapping it around my torso before clutching the back of my head and meeting my lips passionately. I callously dropped my knife into the dirt. My hairs was tied around his fingers, he maneuvered his way between my knees. Both my palms rested on his biceps. The desert night grew warmer with every touch.