These few have found each other with one common goal-stay alive.
Quiet. The only noises are distant gunfire, shuddering booms far, far away.
The air is thick.
Bodies are packed together. So many dirty, sweaty bodies pressed up against one another, radiating heat.
The smells. This small abandoned classroom is ripe with the stench of sweat and rancid breath.
Yet no one moves. We remain pressed against each other, listening to the ragged breathing of those around us, feeling shoulders bump shoulders as some adjust themselves.
Above all of it though, is the anticipation. The deep rooted fear that roils in all of our stomachs, grips our insides like icy hands as we sit silently, clutching our makeshift weapons.
We are all waiting.
Waiting for it all to begin.
Waiting for it all to end.
Waiting for the moment when our lives- the lives we've worked so gallantly to protect, are snatched away.
Just like that.
It'd all be over.
But this is how it is every night. And let's not kid ourselves, every day too. It's just so much worse in the night.
In the dark.
When you are the most defenceless, the most off your guard. When you are asleep. Or, more accurately, when you wish you were asleep. Because in reality, none of us are sleeping. We've all seen too much to willingly go to sleep. The brief snatches that force themselves upon us are just as terrifying as reality. Fraught with just as many horrific nightmares.
So we wait.
And we pray, pray to the Lord that we hold off on death just a little longer.