Flash Fiction — Beneath The Cocoon

We could see them, far down in the flat field at the bottom of the rise where we sat. They looked small, but I was sure I could hear them.

The man glanced back and noticed that I was shivering. He set down his things and picked up the two blankets he’d been carrying since he found me. With economical movements, he spun the blankets around me and tucked them in.

“Those’ll keep you warm. I want you to sit still. And stay quiet.” He picked up the things he’d set down and began to move down the path.

“I want to come with you,” I said.

He wheeled around, his eyes slashing me, blue and hard. “I said keep quiet,” he hissed. “If they hear us, you’ll never see the sun come up again.”

I nodded at him, trying to blink back the tears that were welling up. He turned and looked back down the hill, and I followed his gaze.

The small figures were moving together towards the large dark shape in the center of the field. One of them broke away from the group and circled north, coming around behind the dark shape. He waved his arms at the group, and I could hear laughter on the breeze. At least the wind was with us.

The man watched the group for another minute. The lone figure returned to the group, and they seemed to be occupied with some activity I couldn’t make out. The faint clink of metal on metal came to my ears. The man turned and looked at me.

“If you make noise, it’s all over. I won’t say it again. You sit still.”

I nodded and he turned away from me again. I could hear his movements through the wiry brush for a minute, and then the sound was gone. Down in the field, the small figures were up and moving around again, and they had broken up into small groups. I wondered how long it would be until dark. I lifted my eyes to the somber sky to see if any stars were yet visible. That’s when the hand took hold of my hair and the cold blade moved up under my throat. A soft voice began to whisper in my ear, but I could not understand the words. I wanted to swallow, but my head was pulled back too far. My arms were heavy beneath the cocoon of blankets. A hawk sailed across the sky above my vision. I wanted a drink of water so bad just then.

~ S.K. Orr