I thought, personally, that being in this village was better than being back home, but apparently Matteo thought otherwise, because he insisted we make our way to Milan as soon as possible. It was a good ten minutes of arguing between two options, one very simple and the other horribly difficult to accomplish before dawn. But, again, if we left now then we would have a better chance at escaping unnoticed, and probably without anyone chasing us, and to me that was safer. So I finally gave in. We left at what I figured was one a.m., being that the sky was remaining immensely dark. Clouds soon shuffled in, blocking the stars and moon from view, so that not even the village lights could substitute such a brilliant glow. The outskirts of town were just gardens. Gardens, gardens, and more gardens. Maybe they needed to support the agriculture industry (a smaller one, I suppose) to make money. "I guess this place is pretty... Uh, poor," I whispered, glancing back at the rows of houses and shops. "Like my lifestyle."
"You do know that they hate you for that exact reason, right?" Matteo said matter of factly.
I glared at him. "You've gotta be less vague when you're telling me things."
"Right... Ummm, they know your real identity and everything, like I recently explained, and they really want your family to use their millions of dollars on convincing the government to support small economies like this." He nodded back to the town. "Understand?"
"Oh." I paused, looking ahead at the continuous cloak of night. "Makes sense."
He looked down at the ground awkwardly, then said, "Have you ever had a boy like you before?"
My heart rate sped up immediately. I knew this was coming. "Yeah. Several times. Although, I don't go to school, so the boys who do like me are either regular coffee customers or those who I sell to at the market."
"Oh. Okay."
I waited for him to continue, but he kept quiet. "Why do you ask?" I broke the silence uncomfortably.
"No reason." He maintained a steady gaze on the horizon as if challenging himself to some sort of thinking contest. "Ummm, where should we go now that we've escaped?"
A small feeling of disappointment welled up inside me. I stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say next, but that's when the sirens went off. After that, it was a wild chase.
"Come on, go!" Matteo screamed at me over the wail of sirens.
"But there's no where to hide!" I yelled, my voice scratchy from running and my legs beginning to ache terribly.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind a large truck. It looked more like a tank, I have to say. "You good?" he huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Uh, yeah... Who's chasing us?"
"Somebody on patrol, obviously. I didn't think they had an army outside a main industry."
I nodded slowly, looking up at the tank. I got an idea. "Do you think this thing has run recently?" I asked.
"No... Probably been a few years, I'd say."
Oh, I mouthed. Too bad, we could've used it to get away, and maybe shot at people with the ammunition if we were lucky. "Wait..." I said suddenly.
"What, what is it?"
My eyes narrowed to see a few figures in the distance, coming straight towards us. "Get in the truck."
Matteo looked at me. "What?"
"Get in the truck," I repeated sternly, rising to my feet.
"If we move we'll be killed."
"GET IN THE TRUCK!"
He stares at me, his eyes wide. I've reached a point of panic, that's for sure. I climb up the steps on one side while he goes for the other, and after ten seconds, we're both seated, the doors shut and locked since it was manual and not controlled by a device. The people simply advanced. Once I got a clearer view, I could see that they were holding large rifles, and that they wouldn't hesitate to shoot. "Stay up here," I order, standing up and making my way to the back seats. There was a window on the ceiling. In the middle of the glass, there was a machine gun.
A machine gun.
"Hey, is there any ammunition up there?" I ask unsteadily, consistently keeping a sharp eye on the front window.
He glances back. "I don't know."
"Well, look, for god's sake! Quickly!"
He rolls his eyes and starts digging frantically in slots in the door and next to the controls. "Ah!" he exclaims. "Here, this should work."
I nod. "Pass."
He throws a plastic bag back to me. I catch it and fumble to get it open, but once I do, I take a few bullets and load them into the circular thing that stores them. I close it just as quickly. "Up front there should be a directory thing," I say. "Is it pointed at that group ahead of us?"
He squints, glancing down at the controls. "Yeah, should be fine."
"Kay, get ready."
We both exchange one last glance of courage for each other's sake, and then I pull the lever, and I remember nothing other than the fire.
The fire and the ringing in my ears.
Because everything went so terribly wrong.