One of Two Choices

“I say we do it!” I screamed.

“We're dead if we do,” Chuck screamed back.

It had been raining all night. Now morning, the swollen river sounded like football-fans cheering in the packed stadiums I could barely remember from ten thousand miles and lifetimes ago.

“Should we hold hands and jump?” Chuck asked earnestly.

As I dug deep inside myself for the right answer we found ourselves laughing, not only at the futility of the situation, but at the ridiculous sound of perhaps a very good question left hanging in the air.

After a night of constant running, we couldn't run any further. How we planned to swim, I had no clue. We looked back at the jungle, then at the river, then at each other.

Neither one of us made the move to leap into the current. We had no shirts to remove, no shoes to take off. Our delay was due entirely to the unmistakable fact that if we jumped in, the water would take our emaciated bodies and devour us in one sudden, unforgiving whoosh.

I was looking at Chuck as the first bullets tore past our heads informing us that the decision making deadline had arrived.

“Shit!” I said as the guttural terrrrrrump of Ak47's sent bullets zinging past our ears. Sand was popping up at our feet and everywhere around us as VC Regulars slithered from the jungle. They came nearer, hunched over, now no longer shooting. They screamed in Vietnamese, words we could barely hear above the applause of the river and its throbbing, whore-like seduction to come hither, escape pulling firmly in our minds. We turned our backs to her, bowed our heads as we long ago were trained to do, and totally, entirely, and without question-- gave ourselves up.

299 Words
Flash Fiction using the words Escape, Deadline, Morning