Ran

• Rosie Maloney, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2014

In 2084 the Australian government built barriers and walls on our land - our country became isolated. We were alone.

In 2093 people from the outside world finally crossed our borders. They formed the Human Rights Association. Riots erupted all over the country; the HRA demanded that the walls be demolished. Locals joined and their numbers grew.

My Mum and Dad joined; later I was born. We were HRA. They trained us all, even me. When I was five my world changed in the most dramatic way.

My dad was on a mission with thirty other soldiers. They tried to bomb Parliament house. There was a huge explosion. No one came back alive. My mum and I were alone!

Dad’s death changed Mum’s views; she challenged the H.R.A on their methods. Two days later she was dead. That was the final straw for me; I ran.

The H.R.A training kept me alive, I lived off the earth scavenging food. I did this for five years. They looked for me all that time. I ran. I hid. One day I heard them coming. They were behind me. I had to leave my sanctuary.

I slipped between the trees and there they were. A man in a black uniform told me to wait. He roughly grabbed my shoulder pushing me into a waiting van.
“You've been hard to catch,” he said, “but we’ve got you now!”

The HRA had a mission for me. My breakfast nearly made a reappearance when I heard what I had to do. I had to get out of this car and come up with a plan.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, studying me curiously. “We will contact you again soon. You may go now.”

They did contact me and I was told to wait in in the same forest clearing.

I saw the van driving along the beaten track and my stomach clenched with fear.

“This is your chance to finish the mission your father started,” the man said. “The explosives are ready; soon you will destroy the government.”

He said this without any emotion; his voice filled me with rage.

I lashed out, kicking his legs from under him. He fell on the hard roots of an oak tree. I jumped behind the tree using the sturdy trunk as a shield. The autumn leaves swirled, the sunlight caught each leaf, painting the world a mesmerising orange.That’s when I heard his gun go off.

I cradled my arm as the warm blood stained my blouse. The man was staggering to his feet. I reached down and felt the edge of a jagged rock, I grabbed it, swung it, striking it against his shooting hand. I took the gun. Clasping the cold metal I aimed it at his heart. I couldn’t look. A tear escaped my closed eyes; with shaking hands and a heavy heart I pulled the trigger. A dark red colour soaked his chest. I turned and ran.