chapter 2.2

Without waiting for me to follow, the men resumed the formation, marching down the hallways in silence, moving as one entity without exchanging a word between them.

An unfortunate civilian opens one of the side doors just as we were coming past. He sees us, and his expression changes from confusion to anger. "what are you doing here? I'm calling security!" the man yelled, but before he could say another word, Jay darted forward, twisted his arm behind his back and leans forward until his shoulder pops. The man's screams were cut short by the knife at his throat, slitting away his vocal cords. The body was then cast aside into the open doorway, where the automatic doors slid shut and then open again, colliding dully against the legs of the dead man. The soft sound of the doors against dead flesh followed us down hallway and out the front door. A second later opening the door and that man's life may have been saved. Jay casually wiped the blood off his chin as we marched back the way we came, leaving behind a trail of dead.

I admired their efficiency, but their ruthlessness terrified me. their power of life and death seemed almost godlike, taking a life was nothing to them, like squatting a fly, and if I wasn't careful, that could be me.

Getting out was much easier than getting in, Dark Moon Squad didn't have to worry about the patrols (as most of them were now dead), and we met up with the rest of the squad just as we were leaving the compound. Like clockwork, the other group re-joined ours as if they knew the exact timing we would reappear. Then, contrary to our stealthy arrival, we marched straight down the drive. I watched the trees nervously, waiting for an ambush or gunfire to come out of the treeline, but none came, and the Squad didn't share my fears, they strode down the path without a care in the world, until the sound of a car engine vibrated up the road, and I stopped midstride, frozen in fear, but when the rest of the group continued on, I questioned myself. They could hear it, right? They must. I watched Rickon nervously, skipping to catch up with them, and wondering what the hell he was thinking, the vehicle was getting close, just beyond the curve in the road. As soon as it came around the curve we would have nowhere to go- there was now no way to get into the treeline as we were separated by a ten-foot rise in rock either side that was too steep to climb quickly. In seconds, the vehicle would come around the bend, see us and probably start shooting at us, or radio to someone who will. I began to fidget, so much so that Jay shot me an annoyed look that I tried to return with a pleading gaze, but instead with a curled lip, he scoffs at me.

A few second later a truck similar to the one we hijacked pulls around the bend. It's travelling fast, and for a moment, I thought it was going to hit us, but at the last second it swings round to the side, sending a splay of dirt and gravel in our direction and screeches to a stop, a mere foot and a half from Rickon at the front. All the while, Rickon doesn't even flinch at the cars erratic arrival.

The door swings open and a young man with a wild mop of blonde hair and icey blue eyes. Contrary to his appearance, his voice was cold and bored, "I was told ten." The young man announced stiffly.

"Yeah well some died along the way." Rickon shrugged.

"Huh, I guess what people say about this squad is true." He smirked arrogantly.

"And what is that?"

The driver looked a little uncomfortable but answered anyway. "You come to Dark Moon to die with honour."

"Honour?" Rickon chuckles, "you'd better not do anything stupid enough to land yourself here then, a couple of spaces have just opened up." He finished, laughing dryly, while the other men in the squad opened up the back of the truck and clambered in, seemingly accustomed, and indifferent to the type of exchanges occurring at the front of the truck. Then Rickon followed his men, sitting in the vacant seat right at the front, closest to the driver, watching him with hawk eyes through the tiny window nested in the truck wall, and I get the impression, that despite his men's indifference, he was offended. Finally, I scrambled after them, clumsily struggling up the steps, as I was yelled at to hurry up and close the doors. I crawled inside and reached out for the handle with my tiny arms, my finger tips grazed the metal, but I failed to get a grip, so I leaned out a little further, planting my feet, but I overreached a little too far and let out a little yelp as I almost fell head first back onto the gravel. I was rewarded with a clad of laughter as, one of the nameless faces I had yet put a name to, seized me by the collar and lifted me behind him with one hand, and with the other he swung the doors shut and fixed them in place.

Despite there being space for an extra three people, where there would be space to sit, it was occupied by someone's bag or equipment so I found my place on the floor where there was a gap large enough to sit between the men's feet and kept my head down. There was a little noncoherent chatter between them, but over the roaring of the engine I couldn't hear much, just the occasional crude laughter and snide comment. I nestled my head between my knees and lightly traced patterns in the dust coated floor, it calmed me as I shut everything else out and listened to the sounds of the engine and bumps in the road as the truck soared over it.

My eyes slowly drifted shut, and I was only aware that I'd managed to drift asleep when I was kicked awake from behind, my chest was propelled forward as I was pushed head first onto the truck floor, "kid wake up!" a voice commands, and I roll over to find an empty truck.

Rickon stood behind me wearing a dark navy uniform, like those of the security personnel in the compound we'd just stolen from, and behind him each squad member was wearing something similar. I scrambled to an upright position, suddenly wide awake; he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me towards the back of the truck where there is a small compartment left open just big enough for a truck wheel. "Get in." He ordered with a shove.

I look at him nervously, but before he could hit me again, I climb in and curl up as small as I could, bending my body in ways it didn't want to be bent and when I didn't totally fit, Rickon forces the lid shut, pushing my arm uncomfortably against my chest and twisting my skin in painful ways. I was immersed in darkness with only a tiny strip of light escaping through the crack, as if to let me know it wasn't totally air tight and I wouldn't suffocate if I didn't panic. A few moments later, when everyone was back inside, the truck resumed its route, wherever it was taking us.

This time the struggle to breathe made sure I couldn't sleep, I was painfully aware of each breath I took and how it crushed my arm against the metal, and how my own limbs bruised my chest with each little movement the truck made. I fought back panic by staring at the thin band of light and counting as high as I could (which wasn't very high) over and over again. After an eternity, the truck dribbled to a stop, and I could hear footsteps of someone opening the back door. There was a short conversation, and even though I couldn't catch what they were saying, I recognised Rickon's voice, before six pairs of footsteps follow him out and I'm left alone. The silence that follows seemed to last for forever and I pondered if it was safe to come out, but fear keeps me where I am, I search for something, anything, but that thin strip of light provides nothing but silence. My heart throbs against my rib cage so loudly that I fear that someone would hear it. Or rather hoped that someone would, at least then I knew that I hadn't been forgotten, trapped in this small box until I died.

Suddenly, the door opens from the outside, it startled me and if I had room to flinch I would have, instead my heart simply skips a beat and I listen to their movements. I hear two men climb in the back of the truck, they start going through the squad's bags and gear they'd left in the back and they weren't quiet about it either. They opened their rucksacks and turned it over, the contents rattling to the floor and after a quick rummage, they moved onto the next bag, "It's not here. They must have been telling the truth." One of the men sighed and leaned against the little compartment I was hiding in, blocking the thin strip of light.

"Sargant was so sure, but they're clean. Their registration checks out, but I feel like we're missing something. It doesn't feel right."

"I agree, but what are we meant to do? If they are who they say they are then they outrank us- by a lot. And it's not just a demotion they could threaten us with if we're wrong."

"We just need to do our job, report what we found and let the Sargant sort out what to do with 'em." They left the truck in dismay, items and belongings scattered across the floor and went to report their findings.

Sometime later, the driver returned, followed silently by the rest of the squad, who climbed in and took their seats without a word. The engine started, and we were finally allowed to pass through the enemy checkpoint (which is where I decided we must have been), without stopping to pick up the items littering the base of the truck, and I could hear them bouncing about on the floor and colliding with their rooted feet.