Attack

You had fired a few arrows on that fateful night, with your friends packing up their equipment as they prepared to go home. Several of them give you a pat on the back, which inadvertently corrected your aim. They were already headed out the door just as you scored a bullseye. Normally a bullseye would occur, in your hands, after about a dozen arrows. You didn’t care, and resumed firing four of your remaining arrows.

Sweat was beginning to leak out of the bottom of your arm guard after your last arrow. You set the bow down upon its stand gently, and walked over to the target. The target was just a huge circle that consisted of eleven rings; two white rings, two black rings, two blue rings, two red rings, and the final three yellow rings.

You weren’t sure if getting an arrow through the outermost yellow ring counted as a bullseye, but you were happy enough with the results. Out of the eight arrows you fired, three arrows had hit the yellow rings, forming an isosceles triangle around the second and third yellow ring, and the other five scattered among the red rings.

You grinned, and took off your finger tab. You took the arrows out by the neck slowly, careful not to bend the arrow. Having taken out all eight, you kept it in what you called an arrow holster, hooked onto the side of your pants by the waist. You turned, and walked the seventy-five metres back to the firing line.

You put your finger tab on, noting the sweat that had accumulated for some reason when it was off. You picked your bow up and put the nock of the arrow in place. Pulling the string back, you took aim before pulling the anchor to your lips. You shut your left eye, and let go. You had been told that an arrow could go at least ninety metres an second, but you knew that the arrow would strike the target before you could even blink.

The sound of an arrow striking the target informed you that the arrow’s flight has ended, and you slide another arrow in place. This process continued for the next seven arrows, and by the time you were done, your chest was aching. You hadn’t fired any arrows for a week, and the sudden exercise was acting on your body.

You set your bow down again and left your finger tab hanging by the stand. You walked over to the target, wiping your sweat with the collar of your shirt as you went. Halfway there, the fluorescent lights hanging ten metres above you start flashing. Being afraid of the dark, you turned around, and ran a full sprint towards your archery bag, which you had left a torchlight should anything happen.

The lights went out completely as you reached your torchlight and flicked it on. You didn’t really hate the dark, but you hated the fear you got whenever you feel there’s something unknown lurking. You found it humorous even though you were practically sweating a waterfall right there and then. Humans feared what they do not know, and yet they still try to discover, and push beyond the boundaries just to learn something new. You didn’t know that until now.

You picked your bow up, and put a couple of spare carbon arrows in your arrow holster. You took one out, and put the nock in the nocking point. You stood still, and aimed the bow and arrow at the double door entrance into the room. You pulled the bowstring back, and carefully waited for whoever it might be who was playing this trick on you. You knew that no one could possibly be behind you, but you didn’t want to say it was impossible.

The sound of the door creaking as it opened sent a chill of fear down your spine. You held the arrow, cursing at yourself for not putting the arrow tab back on. The bowstring hurt your fingers, but you held the arrow and the bowstring steady.

The lights started flashing again, and the first thing you saw had you frozen for half a second. A bulky man, no doubt at least a couple of inches taller than you was standing in the door frame, a Glock 17 in his hand. He was wearing a black windbreaker about one size too big and black slacks, and was wearing a ski mask. You were no weapons enthusiast. You knew that your two arrows versus seventeen rounds of ammunition was useless, but you had an advantage at the time. You had already aimed your weapon, and he had to aim his and fire.

You didn’t hesitate. You let the bowstring go and the sound of your bowstring lashing caught the attention of the intruder. You were already putting the nock of your last arrow in the nocking point by the time the arrow had pierced his throat. You were impressed. From your bench to the double door entrance was a distance of about 30 metres, but to be able to do such fatal damage was quite a surprise for you.

You didn’t have time to congratulate yourself as a second intruder came barging in through the other door. The first man thudded against the floor as you pulled back the bowstring and let loose another arrow. You were sure it was going to miss. The flashing lights disorientated you, and made aiming close to impossible. You were aiming for the torso of the bulky guy, but the arrow had gone further up. This time you fired further down, toward the abdomen area, hoping for the arrow to go up again.

It didn’t. It was going to strike the door. You quickly realized this, and ran straight for the intruder. The arrow struck the door, causing the second intruder to turn around and inspect the noise, before realizing there was another noise, your sneakers thudding against the wooden floorboards. He lifted his Glock, and let loose a flurry of bullets as you charged towards him.

A sudden warmness filled the center of your stomach, and you knew you were hit. You didn’t stop nevertheless. He let loose a couple more rounds before you swung your bow in a wide arch. The bow struck his head with a sickening crunch and he dropped to the ground. You tried your best to avoid his last shot, but the twitching finger of the dying intruder seemed to be faster. His final round went through your ankle, and you dropped down, writhing in pain. You brought your bow up, and proceeded to smash the bow down on the dying man’s skull.

You could feel blood running freely now, this time soaking the bottom part of your shirt and part of your slacks as you went through your pockets, trying to achieve your phone as the lights came back on. The lights had turned back off by the time you had gotten your phone.

Your phone screen lit up like a candle in a dark room, and you dialled 911. You cursed when there was no network coverage and your vision started dimming. You crawled over to the bulky corpse and took his Glock 17. You kept it in the arrow holster and crawled out the door. You turned around for a short moment to get your bow, and you sling it over your shoulder like hunters did in movies. You paused a moment, listening for any more potential intruders. The only sound you hear is the final breath of the man you just killed. Your dimming vision gets worse as your crawled down the dark hallway.

Your heart started pounding faster as a light started dancing around the corner of the hall, and you stopped moving. You eyed the light. Maybe the security guard had heard the bullet barrage earlier and was coming to investigate. The light disappeared and you heard a couple of inconsistent footsteps round the corner. The last thing you remember was a flash of bright light that would have stung had you not blacked out right then and there.