Water dropped in a clanging pattern against the stone floor beneath my hands. Ooze clung to my palms and knees. Cement brushed my bare shoulders. My desperate crawl slowed. Sleep played at my senses. We had been fleeing ever since the night before. My twin brother and I had snuck away from home to join a small group. The nazis broke in.
My twin was shot.
I glanced back at him. It pained me to see him struggling to crawl. I stopped, my limbs heavy with fatigued. Jason pulled in a breath. He nudged me with his good arm.
‘Keep going Jessica. There’s an abandoned church not far ahead, we can rest when we arrive,” he gasped.
I tossed my blond hair over my shoulder, my green eyes locked with his identical green eyes.
“But can you make it that far? Remember you injured.”
“Nonsense, I can make it. As for my wound, it will heal. The bullet fell out a ways back,” he tried to smile, “don’t worry about me.”
Blood decorated my arm as he brushed passed me. Jason crawled as fast as his limping gait would allow.
His blond hair turned sliver. We turned a corner. Moonlight flooded the exit of the tube. Brittle weeds stabbed at my skin as I stepped out. I tried to rub off some of the grime that covered my hands on my pink tank top. I examined the climb before me. Large, moss covered boulders and overgrown, dead trees stood between me and my destination. Atop the rise sat the crumbling structure of a once proud building. The weeds behind me rustled.
I gestured at my twin to stay. He nodded. Gripping his arm, he collapsed against the wall. Pain coloring his usually handsome face.
“Stay here, I’ll go check it out.”
Staying in the shadows, I made my way up to the forlorn building. What was left of the windows crunched under my now brown tennis shoes. Vines grew over the decaying walls. I edged under what remained of the door. Insulation, glass, and many years worth of dust covered the pitted floor. I picked my way through the ruins. Creeping under a beam, I found myself in a almost undamaged area. A faded, threadbare blue couch sat against the far wall. Satisfied, I turned and snuck out of the church and back down the hill. Jason had thrown up from pain and looked about ready to pass out again. Grabbing his good arm, I pulled him to his feet.
“Come on Jason, not much further,” I whispered.
Once inside the church, I led him to the room I had found. Jason sank onto the couch. I made him lay down. Clutching his arm to his chest, he smiled. His eyes starred at the corner of the room.
“The Lord is our refuge,” he murmured before blacking out.
I followed his gaze across the room, I too smiled as they fell on a large wooden cross. Its scarred form protruded from the wreckage of a splintering dresser.
“Indeed, Jason, the Lord is our refuge.”
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