Deserter

• Louise Stuart-Russell, Grade 12, Spinifex State College
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

“I’m running. Come with me.”
“You’re deserting,” he said bluntly.
She bit her lip. “I have to, if I stay here they’re going to have me court martialled, or worse.”
He looked at her for a long time.
“When are you leaving?”
“Tonight, 2 am.”
She was lying on her stomach in the tent, her pack at her feet, her rifle leaning on her cot. She thought about what she’d done. A split-second decision, a lapse in judgement. Five dead.
She heard a rustle outside, she leapt silently to her feet, her fingers closing around the barrel of her rifle. The guards were outside, maybe she’d been discovered…
She unzipped the tent door, the barrel of her rifle between the intruder’s eyebrows. It was him. He’d said he’d gotten rid of the two on patrol. He wouldn’t tell her how when she asked.
He had his pack on and was holding his gun. His face was barely recognisable under the camouflage paint. She was paranoid about being seen. Sneaking out of a camp full of people trained to spot people sneaking out of a camp was hugely frightening. If she was caught the consequences would be worse than if she’d stayed.
He followed closely behind her as they crept between the tents. Two soldiers with packs and paint on, in the dark- to the naked eye they’d be damn near impossible to spot, but they had to move fast.
Then, suddenly, a sound. The crunch of boots on gravel, and their pace quickened, then they were over the boundary, and running into the woods.
Trees flashed past and their boots thumped on the ground. The forest floor was covered with roots, stretching out like fingers beneath the fallen leaves. Every now and then one of them would almost trip, only to be caught by the other in a practiced, fluid motion. They kept running until they passed a collection of boulders, then they started walking.
It was almost light when they reached the caves. She walked straight in while he stood at the entrance, checking for followers. They had none, so he followed her in. She sat down on a rock with a sigh, and began removing all her gear. Her pack was placed neatly next to her, and she was digging her canteen out of her webbing when she heard a metallic click, and she froze instinctively. She turned her head towards the sound, and saw him. He had drawn the pistol he carried in a thigh holster, and he was pointing it at her head. His face was covered in tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“W-what are you doing?”
“After what you did, they sent out operatives to monitor you. I’ve been watching you for months.”
“B-but I thought- you said you…”
“Loved you? Oh, I did. I do.” He clicked a bullet into the chamber and pressed it to her left temple.
“But duty comes first.”