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Fight or Flight by J. Shrefi

6/22/2019

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I told them we shouldn't have ventured inland. we should've just listened. I should have just listened. and let them go off on their own. they were always going to do it anyway, my hanging around trying to prevent it wasn't going to stop anything. why would it? I was the nice guy. and I knew better; it’s just that I wanted her to look at me the way she looked at him..so like an asshole I went along with it and now here we were, the three of us crouched behind this old rusted car with a hollowed rear wheel well trying to slow our breath to in inaudible pace. with mud caching our shoes and sweat stinging our eyes and mosquitoes piercing our skins. on top of that I had the tailpipe digging into the back of my neck, but I was too afraid to adjust. you could hear their voices off in the distance and you didn't have to know the words they spoke to understand their meaning. even some of their own people were scared. tripping and falling as they scurried to hide themselves from the 'diablo.'

hopefully that the malaria made quick work of us, better that than the alternative. the pop pop of their shots filled the air with laughter acting as a chaser. their guffaws even more threatening than their thundering weapons. the scrape of metal came next. I didn't look but I visualized an old machete encrusted with dried blood dragging along the side of another diserviced vehicle. they were getting closer. my heart felt like it was going to explode. and I was getting lightheaded. fuck..fuck. I had to do something. fast. I could hear their footfall squishing in the mud..fuck..shit shit shit. think. didn't they know we were Americans? think. think. this had to be Trump’s fault. there was wild brush just off to my left. I just needed a distraction. I looked to my right. at Nicole hiding her face in the pit of Kyle's shirt. his arm wrapped tightly around her sunburned shoulders. kissing at her scalp..before I could stop myself I pushed at them as hard as I could. pushed them from behind our hiding place and out into the muddied dirt road. the shriek of their surprise added to the cacophony of wildlife as I made a mad dash toward the bushes. only looking back in time to see Kyle's head jerk back, bursting like a spoiled fruit, speckling Nicole’s blonde hair with its pulpy seeds. the sound of the shot followed shortly. the last thing I heard was Nicole’s fading screams over the jackrabbit speech of the men’s native tongue as I ducked further into the trees.

​
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  • About
    • Christopher P. Dum
    • Halle Neiderman
    • Bengt George
  • Chapbooks
  • Get Involved
  • Mentor Program
  • Mural
  • In the Community
  • Photovoice
  • Lake Erie
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  • Grafton
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