I lay on my belly and shimmy towards the edge of the cliff that I'm stationed at. We suspect that the mutants have no idea that we're here as they don't seem to have any formation as they walk up the mountain -- in fact, it's very casual.
I have no doubt that the others have all been done away with, and so I quietly say a small prayer to them in the hopes that they are able to help us. We've set a trap inside the cave, and the rest of us are stationed strategically above and around with spears that we've fashioned over the last few days from tree branches.
I rotate mine in my hand to make sure that I have a firm grip.
The mutants slowly make their way towards camp. There are some stragglers further behind which I and the others, who are weak like myself, have been assigned.
I am the weakest, so I have been assigned to the last straggler.
I try to fill my heart with anger and hatred for what they've done to the rest of our camp --but it doesn't come easy. Part of me understands that they too are angry at what has happened and I inadvertently let me mind drift as the mutants pass by.
I am undetected.
In a few moments the mutants will fall into our trap. I am far enough away that my straggler shouldn't hear.
I don't think about the guilt that is brewing up inside; but instead, stay focused for when my mutant crosses.
It's taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I can hear a sort of struggle up where the trap is, but it's muffled -- like a heavy wind making its way through the trees.
It won't cause any alarm.
A moment later, my mutant crosses and so I jump from my position and land on them -- knocking them face first to the ground. I raise my spear high above my head as I hear a moan.
It's a woman.
I try to close my eyes and make one swift movement, but I can't -- and when she rolls around and faces me I see that she is pregnant.
"Please, don't." She asks me as we stand there in the dark of night making eye contact. I try to think of all the reasons why I should do it -- like, she would do it to me, and she's done it to my people; but instead I freeze.
We stare at each other, and I notice a moment later that she hasn't made an attack towards me. In the background we both can now hear the groans of her people being slaughtered; and in that moment she begins to cry.
I lower my spear. Maybe it was that she spoke to me, or maybe it was the fact that she is pregnant -- but there is nothing in me that wants to hurt her. In this moment -- she is no longer a mutant, but rather a survivor like myself. And so, I lower my hand that isn't holding my spear to help her stand.
"You can run," I tell her, but we both know that her best chance of survival is to stick with me -- and so, in that moment; in the aftermath of my people's slaughter and the midst of hers; we have become allies.
"I can't," she tells me as she starts to limp. I've either broken or twisted her leg from pouncing on her.
I offer my shoulder as a crutch and we both take a seat near the edge of the mountain to wait out the slaughter. Should we approach now, there would be no chance of her survival. And so, we sit and wait.
She grieves quietly as the screams dwindle and then eventually disappear. When the others are done, we will approach. I will do my best to argue for her life, but it is not up to me.
Who lives or dies is and always has been left up to fate and her sinewy calculations based on liturgical conditions that I still haven't quite grasped.
For whatever reason, I begin to pray for this mutant woman -- a fellow survivor. I try to find forgiveness from those who have passed. What little I gather from the wind, I channel towards her to act as a barrier of protection from the fear and hurt that wants to enact its revenge.
And I hope, as we both sit there awaiting the unknown, that fate has calculated pity in her ledger for this particular woman who chose not to harm me back. A woman, very much like myself, who simply wants to live.
