The Gate

The gate entrance of the Musteferret was not on ground level. A meager looking metal platform that looked like a flimsy piece of cardboard from far acted as a bridge, and was shaking violently from the in-pour of the human wave. I led the way ahead of Mama Joe, tightly grasping her hand. We were already extremely exhausted from the journey, but the path to the bridge was nearly in sight. The iron gateway on the fence, where the guard was supposed to inspect personal belongings and verify VIPs, were jammed with human flesh rubbing against each other. Others attempted climbing the fence, only to be electrocuted by the wirings, falling backwards and tumbling over the crowd.

"Wait... I can't...can't run that fast..."

We paused. The proletariats were like an unceasing flow of the current rushing past us, and the gate a black hole, sucking everything around it into the void, beyond which nothing could be seen. I shifted my glance towards the ship worryingly. Given the size of the space shuttle, how many people could it fit? Five thousand? Fifty thousand? Half a million?

I looked back down on Mama Joe.

Already the old, frail body of Mama Joe was heaving up and down, gasping desperately for air. "I feel... warm...it's too warm."

"What're you talking about?" I pleaded. "We're almost reaching! Run!"

Of course, anyone would feel warm when surrounded by hundreds of thousands of heat-emitting mammals. But it wasn't the most appropriate moment to care about temperature, was it?

She gave a swift and silent nod in consent, and said no more.

Once again, we squeezed and buried ourselves within the masse, me pulling her along, almost with brute force. Somewhere along the line my vision became blurred, smeared with the bodily fluid of another. Multiples times my feet were stepped upon, ribs crushed and suffocation ensued, my hair ruffled up, and thrice my face collided with someone's elbow. I could no longer differentiate the clamorous voices outside from that which was within, but that no longer mattered. I focused on my pain aching all over the body, distancing myself from reality. Reality is in the mind; knowing that I pressed on ahead.

Almost there, I murmured.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.

"Mama Joe."

"I'm here, darling." Her voice feeble, it had never sounded so broken before.

In retrospect, I should have considered Mama Joe's bodily conditions more, and even offered to carry her. The mind of the young and foolish, under extreme stress and desperation, lacks the experiences and wisdom to carry out logical decisions; it would most likely implode and collapse like an over-inflated balloon.