The Escape (short story)

Up there, he could see the spy planes scrape the turquoise ocean up above. Silently, he shivered. And prayed. Crossed his fingers, and made an x over his heart which was pounding faster than the planes in the sky. He tried not to breathe because they were coming for him. Faster. Faster. In his head, he swore he could hear footsteps coming to take him away to that wretched place again. Not anymore. To escape, he had to know where they were. Carefully, he moved his eyes to a small opening in the bush he was hiding behind. The sunlight burned his eyes through; they weren't adjusted to the bright rays. For a minutes, his eyes were set on the same exact spot, and in his head there was just one word that he could grasp. Death.

Then he saw them. Out of the clearing, they walked, covered in dark outfits, the color was not able to be determined. All of a sudden, his heart started to beat rapidly, but he knew the reason. Sweat rolled down is pale cheek and plopped onto the muddy ground. Now, there was no escape, because if he ran, they would see him, and if he stay put they would eventually find him. The heavy scent of smoke came from them, and through the bushes, he he saw the leader of the pack flick a few ashes off his cigar, then throw it onto the dirt. In a foreign language, they were whispering words which he wished he knew. As they drew in closer, he knew he had to run. All he needed was a split second. That second could save his life. So he used it.

The men looked back, but their heads snapped back to their old positions once they heard leaves crackling from aways. The American sprang up and dashed the opposite direction.

"Der Amerikaner ist immer weg!" he exclaimed, as a vein in his neck almost popped.

The American's escape had begun as he ran towards his freedom. This was his only chance, and if things went wrong, he wouldn't be breathing tomorrow. They shouted and swore at him from behind. Though he couldn't understand most of it, he decided that he didn't want to. After several minutes of running, he stopped to take a breath. He looked back, but couldn't see the Germans. He sat on the ground and lay against a dying bush. Scrapes and bruises covered his body. There was a deep, bloody gash in his arm that went from his elbow halfway across his arm. Suddenly, he heard a rustling. He stopped breathing and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened one eye. Quickly, a squirrel rolled upon his legs, then scurried away. He took a long, deep breath of exhaustion. Being in the sunlight felt so good. Its warm, mysterious rays almost made him want to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, but wasn't planning to fall asleep...

"I've found den bösen Schuft. Es ist Zeit für sein Ende." the leader said. The American's eyes crunched open, and his vision was groggy. He then saw them, and his heart skipped a beat. But while he was asleep, he realized that it was better this way. Freedom.

The Germans continued to talk not noticing that he was awake. At this point, the American was content. The German took out a knife and smoothly ran his fingers along the steel blade that shimmered in the sunlight.

"Goodbye Amerikaner," the leader muttered. With that he took the blade and forced it into the American's shoulder. His shirt was stained dark red after the blood in that area had evacuated from his body. The German then took the American's head, and pushed it onto the ground.

"Der Schurke ist noch atmen," the German growled angrily. The American took slow, deep breaths, the last ones he would encounter, as he let the pain take over. The German proceeded to pull a pistol from his belt. After stuttering some words to himself, he took aim at the American't chest. He loaded it, then scoped at his target. Finally, he took a deep breath, then without hesitation, pulled the trigger, and threw the gun onto the American's chest where it had already begun to bleed out. It was escaping from his body, causing his vision to become bright. The pain was excruciating, but he didn't think about it. The American's head fell to one side and he mouthed the word freedom. Then, he saw the Germans walk off into the distance.

The American whispered, "I'm coming," then died a slow painful death, however knowing that he was already there.