A: You could be three lunatics who are going to get us killed by those things or kill us yourselves.
Q: Will you fight with us?
A: You could be lying to us, could be planning to steal our supplies or rape us or murder us?
Q: Will you fight with us?
A: We’re not soldiers/trained/ready. We’re unconvinced/unsure/fucking terrified.
Q: Will you fight with us?
They were implacable. They wanted nothing except our answer to that one question.
We threw our doubts at them, hit them with our fears. Some tried to quieten them with their scorn, and more than a few people openly told them to fuck off back to wherever they had come from before they got us precious few remaining humans killed. They listened, they nodded and the replied.
“Will you fight with us?”
I stayed quiet, tried to take it all in. I was as afraid as everybody else. I felt my fear, felt the vomit rise in my throat at the thought of running towards the creatures and then, beneath it all, over it all, I felt my shame and my anger.
Not at the creatures.
At us.
At me.
Lizzie. The fighter.
It was a joke. Ha ha ha.
They had taken everything from me. They had taken him.556Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhO0scL2lep
We hadn’t fought.
I hadn’t fought.
And if nothing changed, we’d live out our days and die out our deaths huddled in our tunnel.
Safe.
Secure.
Doomed.
I stuck my hand up like I was still at school and blurted out the words before I could stop myself.
“Me, over here. I’ll fight with you.”556Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3ynPa50MF8
