He wasn't coming back.
They waited.
Anxiously. Quietly.
Too long had passed.
The light in the sky dimmed into a sickly orange haze. Dusk was bleeding into night.
"Ahhh… how long already?" Mei Lian asked, her voice flat, controlled like a kettle right before it screams.
"A few hours. And it's getting dark… Should we go?" Melati hesitated, looking between the city streets and the shadows. "Without him? Or… maybe… maybe you should go search for him?"
"You say that again, I'll blow your head off," Mei Lian said, glaring. Her voice wasn't loud, but it sliced clean.
Melati froze.
Latif, sitting apart from them, didn't say anything. He didn't like this place. He didn't like this moment. Mei Lian scared him. She had that cold, sharp look in her eyes the kind that told you she had already thought about how to kill someone like you.
Melati… she clearly didn't want to be near him either. Everyone treated Latif like something broken. Off. A burden.
He looked at Mei Lian, then quickly looked away.
Please come back, he thought. Please…
"He'll come back," Mei Lian muttered. "Bit late. Maybe too late." She glanced at Latif.
Latif looked down. He whispered under his breath. "Scary…"
"I'm going to search for him," Mei Lian said suddenly, rising to her feet with sudden decisiveness. "Melati, you watch Latif."
"Wait! why me?" Melati asked, frowning.
Mei Lian stepped closer, face mere inches from Melati's. Her tone wasn't angry. It was exhausted controlled, but dangerously thin.
"Listen… you're the only one among us that's even close to being an adult," she said. Then paused. "I don't care about you. But Aman he does. For some reason. So whether you like it or not, please look after Latif."
Melati flinched slightly. Something in Mei Lian reminded her of Aman less rage, more precision. They barely knew each other, but trauma made strangers into reluctant allies.
They all knew Aman in different ways.
To Mei Lian, Aman was someone she had bled beside. Someone who watched her back and let her watch his. They weren't lovers. They were survivors.
To Latif, Aman was something between a big brother and a guardian. He treated him like a person. Not like the villagers, who looked at Latif like he was defective. Aman was the first one who didn't flinch.
To Melati, Aman was a devil and a lifeline. They met in chains, broke out together, and somehow, he never abandoned her. Even when he threatened her, even when he looked like something was wrong inside his head he stayed.
Latif looked at both girls. He felt it again.
Am I really just a burden?
Melati sighed. "Fine. I'll watch him."
"Come. Sit near me. Don't wander off," she called to Latif.
Mei Lian turned and disappeared into the shadows of the city, boots stepping over broken glass and ash.
Melati glanced at the boy and muttered, "I'm the only adult here, huh? And I'm the one getting bossed around. Scolded by a fuckin' twelve.year.old girl…"
She chuckled bitterly at the absurdity.
Now, it was just her and Latif.
...
"Oi! We can still talk about this, right?!" the man screamed, breathless. "Please… don't kill me!"
Aman stared down at him. No expression.
"You shot me," Aman muttered, holding the knife.
"You tried to shoot me."
His voice wasn't loud but it shook.
He plunged the blade into the man's eye.
The scream barely escaped before the twitching stopped. Aman looked at the body. Then at the blood. Then at the knife.
He didn't flinch.
He noticed a few onlookers in the distance. Watching. Eyes wide.
They turned and ran.
Aman ran after them.
...
"They told us to get rid of a kid!" one of the fleeing men yelled. "They said he was just a kid!"
"They said he's fourteen should be easy!" another gasped. "I didn't wanna do it! But that what the hell was that?!"
"Just run! I didn't think he'd be like that!"
Aman chased.
His muscles screamed. His legs ached. He was sick of this sick of chasing, running, stabbing.
"Goddamnit…" he muttered, breath ragged. "Why did I kill him? I should've asked who sent him…"
But it was too late.
He was tired. Mentally torn. Physically drained.
There was no line anymore between survival and murder. Just instinct.
When did I become like this? Aman thought.
When did I stop feeling anything when I kill?
He lost them. Again.
Breathing heavily, Aman stumbled to a stop.
And then another group appeared.
They spotted him.
"That's him!"
More people.
More blades.
No guns this time but machetes, sticks, metal rods.
Aman raised his snub-nosed revolver and aimed.
"Stop!"
They hesitated. Eyes locked on the gun.
"Who sent you?!" Aman demanded. "That's twice someone's tried to kill me!"
One stepped forward.
Aman pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
A beat of silence.
Then they surged forward.
Aman turned and bolted.
He reached into his bag, desperate to reload but the inside was chaos. Blood. Dirt. Broken rations. Scattered bullets he couldn't find.
"Stop running, dammit!" one of them roared.
Aman stopped. He turned. Pulled his knife. Waited.
When one of them got close he lunged, stabbed deep into the side.
The others didn't expect the sudden retaliation.
But Aman was shoved to the ground.
He rolled, stood, ran again.
He couldn't take them all.
Not head on.
He darted through narrow alleys and sidestreets. But they followed.
A pack of jackals chasing a dying wolf.
He needed to thin them out.
One by one.
I hope this doesn't backfire...
...
Mei Lian moved through the city, past alleyways that stank of soot and cordite. People were gone disappeared. Most of them fled.
An explosion shattered the quiet. She ducked behind cover and looked up.
A factory, in flames.
British sabotage. Another site torched in their scorched earth policy.
She stared into the fire and sighed.
"I thought I was the one going insane," she whispered.
Burning their own infrastructure. Destroying everything they couldn't take.
She had no time to dwell.
She had to find Aman.
...
Aman ran through a narrow street. His breath caught in his throat.
He turned and saw more of them at the other end.
Surrounded.
"Oi! Who sent you?!" he shouted. "I… I'm tired. You hear me?! I'm tired of running. I'm tired of all of this!"
No one answered.
They closed in.
He wasn't just unlucky.
He was cursed.
Ever since the war began he hadn't had a moment's rest. His life was a loop of betrayal, fire, and blood.
Maybe he should've died in that first escape.
Would it have been better?
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.
One of them shrugged. "Sorry… someone paid us."
"You stabbed one of our guys," another growled. "He died, you know!"
"You're really hard to kill!"
Aman looked at his hands.
How many?
How many had he killed?
He didn't even remember anymore.
He was supposed to die long ago.
But somehow, he was still here.
And this was the price.
One man stepped forward, raising his machete.
Then an explosion rocked the street. Shrapnel rang through the walls.
They turned, momentarily distracted.
Aman raised his pistol.
This time, he had reloaded.
BANG.
The first one dropped.
Aman didn't stop.
He fired left. Fired right.
He moved forward.
Reloaded mid step. Fired again.
Bodies dropped. The bullet all done finished.
But still, they came.
Aman grabbed a lead pipe from one corpse and smashed it against another's face until the man's skull caved.
Another man lunged Aman hurled the pipe like a spear, hitting him square in the chest.
He rushed another, grabbed his weapon, and swung.
Blood sprayed. Limbs twisted.
They couldn't flank him in the narrow space. He turned it into a corridor of death.
He kept swinging.
Kept fighting.
Until he was knee deep in blood.
Until his arms shook.
Until his mind went blank.
"I asked you…" Aman muttered through clenched teeth, slamming a hammer into a man's face again and again, "…who the fuck sent you?!"
Another charged him Aman hurled the hammer like a missile and impaled the man with his own machete.
Then silence.
And carnage.
Aman stood.
Blood from head to toe.
His breath rattled. His eyes empty.
He didn't know how long he could keep doing this.
He didn't know what he had become.
He looked down.
How much more blood?
His head screamed.
Stop.
Please stop.
...
Mei Lian stopped near the entrance to the narrow street.
People had gathered.
Tattooed men. Gangsters. Criminals.
Even now with the city falling they still had feuds?
Still killed each other in alleys while everything burned?
She thought they were idiots.
Then she saw people running away.
Faces pale. Terrified. Even some man in tattoo drop their weapon and get away from there.
She stepped forward, cautiously.
"What… what the hell happened?" she whispered.
She can't get there so she climb near roof to look.
And then she saw it.
Blood soaked bodies.
Weapons on the ground.
And a figure, barely upright.
Holding a bloodied machete, trembling.
Aman.