Rhythm

The clip fell to the floor, clattering on the tiles. Before it had come to a stop another clip was slapped into place. Lock. Load. Fire again. He counted as they left the barrel. One. Two. Three. With every shot a step back. Steady. Buying time.
They’d stopped coming so hard now, but enough for the rhythm to still hold. Seven. Eight. Lay them straight.
The thought kept trying to get through, but he couldn’t let it stop the count. There were no second chances.
He felt he’d come to an intersection in the corridor. The path flashed in his mind and he turned right. Taking three steps to the beat to clear the corner. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
The thought again. What? No. Keep going. They have to make it. Just give them more time. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Time? Give them time. What’s that thought? Count. Concentrate. It’s coming. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Grab fresh clip. Thirty. Eject. Step quickly. Slap. Lock. Load. Fire again. One. Two.
What’s your problem? You’ve got to give them time. Why are they only coming fast enough to keep me firing? Five. Six. Pick up sticks. There’s only so many. They can’t go on forever. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Neither can the bullets. Thud. Wall? Door. Open it? The path flashed. No. Left? Surely they are there now. Turn and run? Am I missing something? Eighteen. Nineteen. Got to give them time. How much?
How many? Clips. Clips! Have I kept count? Twenty-three. Twenty-four. No. Focus. Have to keep going. Buy time. For me? Twenty-nine. Grab clip. Thirty. Eject. They don’t even charge on the change now. What are they waiting for? Who are they giving time to? For me? Check the map. I’m on the path. Didn’t expect to get so far. Didn’t check. Nine. Ten. Begin again.
What other ways get to this spot? Check behind you. No. Got to keep steady. Can’t break rhythm. You do, you die.
Always meant to. One life for many and all that. Not afraid. How long do they need? Who am I giving time to?
Behind you. There’s nothing. I don’t need to look. Nineteen. Twenty? No. Twenty-one – two? Check for a clip. Eject early? Count the clips with your fingers. Shots are wild without two hands. Not everyone a kill. They sense it. Twenty… Forget it. Eject. Clatter. Slap. Lock. Load. Fire again.
They’re building again. Is this what they are waiting for? For others. Where did they come from? Are there more anywhere else?
Keep count. Concentrate. Three. Four. Should I have taken the door? You’re on the path. Nearly there. With these behind me. The building rumbles. I’m leading these straight to them. The engine sounds reach me. The transport.
My radio crackles. “Thank you, Ethan.” They’re leaving. “I love you.” I want to say it back, but they are surging now. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Now that I am no use to them. Now that she is safe.
Didn’t expect to get this far.
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. Time to start running. I’m still alive.

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melviccomp and rhythm