The Alarm Clock at the End of the World

Part 14

The Following Afternoon.

My eyes trace over the embankment on the other side of the crick. “I’ll jump and you cover me. I’ll get into a safe position over there, and I’ll cover you while you jump...”

“Wait wait wait.” He grabs my arm when I lurch forward. “How am I supposed to cover you?” Nepotism asks.

“Stand up and start shooting,” I say. I prepare to jump again, but he grabs my arm once more.

“So I’m covering you and drawing fire while you jump?”

“Uh huh.”

“And when I’m exposed and jumping, your covering me from cover.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m exposed the whole time. Why do you get to be the one in cover?”

“I thought up the plan.”

“And that affords you some kind of special protection?”

“Would you come on? Every moment we waste is a moment lost!”

“Why don’t I be the one who goes first while you cover me. Then I’ll cover you from cover.”

“You don’t know the way through these woods.”

“I can’t survive without you, so I might as well be the one in danger.”

“No, that’s not...”

“Without you I would die anyway, so I might as well be the one who takes the risk.”

“How do you propose we do it?”

“If I get killed, you don’t even have to draw fire. You can run away. How will I know you are living up to your end of the bargain? How do I know that you would take your fair share if I get killed?”

“I’m a nice guy, now let’s go!”

“Not unless you promise to stand in the open whether or not I survive.”

“Nep, this is not about fairness!”

"This is about fairness!” He crosses his arms on his chest and looks away indignantly. “Does our friendship not warrant in you that you stand and draw fire in honor of me?” He crosses his arms. “I would pause in tribute to you.”

The blast of the machine gun is close enough to be deafening, and the embankment disintegrates around our heads. We jump simultaneously across the crick bed and scramble up the embankment. The dirt is cold and hard, and stings when you grapple with it. Tiny rocks jam under my fingernails. I gain a foothold and propel myself up the bank, spin, grab his hand and drag him up the slope, bullets slamming into dust and rock right where his feet had been. Nepotism scrambles past me and I cover him with my Desert Talon. We’re both flat on our stomachs immediately.

Go to Part 15