Chatpter Fourteen:
Still clutching Elizabeth's hand, Emma and James hurried down the street he had just traversed, desperation fueling their pace. Bullets whizzed past them, cracking against the pavement and sending shards of debris flying. The air was filled with the screams of terrified residents, both in front of and behind them, as they raced in panic. Every few moments, a sickening thud echoed through the chaos, signaling another person collapsing lifelessly onto the ground.
After a few frantic seconds of running, James realized their speed wasn't enough to escape the danger. In a swift decision, he veered Elizabeth and Emma into the nearest house that appeared intact, yearning for a refuge from the gunfire.
Once inside, they dashed up the stairs to a bedroom. The room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, with soft, muted colors on the walls and natural light filtering through light curtains, creating a sense of calm.
"What are we going to do?" Elizabeth asked, her voice trembling.
James took charge, urgency driving his movements as he scanned the room. "We need to hide," he replied, moving deeper into the space.
The bedroom featured a neatly made queen-sized bed with a plush comforter and a variety of decorative pillows, slightly disheveled from their previous occupants. A sturdy wooden dresser adorned one wall, topped with a family photo and a few keepsakes,
As James surveyed the room, his eyes landed on a storage box at the foot of the bed, small enough to fit a small person in. He quickly opened it to find extra blankets and a few toys inside. Without hesitation, he lifted Emma and gently placed her inside the box.
"Emma, we need to hide from the bad men," he said, his voice a soothing whisper. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he cupped her cheek gently and locked eyes with her. "I know you're scared, but you need to stay quiet in here. Can you do that for me?"
Emma nodded, her little face pale but resolute. "You're such a brave girl," he encouraged, his heart swelling with pride.
As she curled into a protective ball inside the box, James placed one of the extra blankets around her for comfort. "Don't come out unless me or Aunty Elizabeth says it's okay to, okay?" He said as He draped another blanket over the top and closed the lid, muffling the sounds of chaos outside.
Turning back to the room, James noticed the closet. It held several clothes racks and shelves, with the lower shelf cluttered with boxes of seasonal clothing and shoes, while the upper shelf contained less frequently used items. The back of the closet offered a deep space where an adult could crouch down and hide.
"Elizabeth, in here!" he urged, pointing toward the closet.
With James's help, Elizabeth crouched into the darkened space. As she settled in, she noticed it was too cramped for James to join her. Concern creased her brow. "What are you going to do?" she asked, worry flooding her voice.
James hesitated for a moment, "I'm going to find another place in the house"
He closed the closet door and quickly scanned the room again, realizing there was no suitable place for him to hide without being discovered. Determined, he moved through the other rooms upstairs, but despite his frantic searching, he couldn't find a good hiding spot. With danger looming, he decided to check downstairs.
As he reached the last step, the front door creaked open. A soldier stepped inside, and James felt a surge of panic. Without a moment to spare, he rushed past the door and darted down the corridor toward a room at the back of the house.
The soldier, noticing James's movement, instinctively raised his rifle and fired, the bullets whistling past James as he narrowly escaped the line of fire. He bolted through the back door and into the garden, the sound of gunfire echoing behind him as bullets struck the wall and the doorframe.
"We've got a runner!" the soldier shouted, alerting his comrades as he took off in pursuit of James. Two other soldiers quickly followed him, their footsteps pounding against the floor as they rushed to join the chase, while a third soldier paused at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the upper level for any signs of movement.
The third soldier crept up the stairs, his rifle aimed forward and ready. As he reached the top, he took in the sight of several rooms lining the hallway. With methodical precision, he began to clear each room one by one, a sense of grim determination in his movements.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth listened intently from her hiding spot in the closet. The muffled sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the upper floor, each creak of the floorboards sending chills down her spine. After several tense moments, her heart raced as she heard the door to the bedroom they were hiding in suddenly kicked open, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone entering.
The soldier scanned the room with a calculated gaze, his eyes falling on the storage box at the foot of the queen-sized bed. A sinister thought crossed his mind: someone could be hiding inside. With deliberate slowness, he moved toward the box, his rifle trained on it, inching closer and closer as the tension in the air thickened.
Emma could hear the footsteps drawing nearer, each thud echoing in her chest like a drumbeat of fear. Her heart raced as she strained to determine who was approaching—was it James? Elizabeth? Or the bad man James had warned her about? The uncertainty paralyzed her, and she held her breath, trying to silence her racing thoughts.
At the same time, Elizabeth listened intently, her own pulse quickening in response to the slow, deliberate footsteps. Her mind raced with scenarios, contemplating what she might do if the closet door swung open or if the soldier lifted the lid of the storage bench. As the footsteps halted just outside the door and I front of the box, a wave of adrenaline surged through her, and she steeled herself for action.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, but she was resolute; she was prepared to do whatever it took to protect Emma, even if it meant putting her own life on the line. The weight of their situation pressed down on her, but the fierce instinct to protect the little girl gave her the strength to stay focused in the face of impending danger.
Just as the soldier was about to lift the lid of the storage box, a sudden movement caught his eye. In the corner of his vision, through the window, he spotted a figure darting across a yard heading towards the back door of the neighbouring house. Without a moment's hesitation, he swung his rifle toward the window, adrenaline surging through him.
With a sharp crack, he opened fire at the fleeing man, the shots ringing out in the tense silence of the bedroom as the man was mid-leap, desperately trying to escape. The sound of gunfire shattered the stillness, momentarily distracting the soldier from his original target, the hidden occupants in the room.