Haha, crappy title I know, but I've never been one for flashy, attractive headlines. Anyway, I think the story might be okay, so have at it!
-Little Mistakes-
Conrad snapped his cell phone shut and threw it against the wall. This caught Peter off guard, seeing as how Conrad rarely ever showed displays of anger, let alone any kind of emotion.
"Peter, that was Mendev. We've got twenty minutes before they drop the b on New York." Conrad glanced down and pulled the bill of his hat further down past his eyes.
"What do we do until then?" Peter asked, a feeling of shock overwhelming him.
"Evacuate as many people as we can," a familiar voice cut in as Jack walked in. Brushing his long brown hair out of his face, he cleared his throat. "I know you're new at this Peter, but I'm going to need you, Conrad and Ben to evacuate as many New Yorkers as possible. We'll be able to save some lives. Not many, but it's the best we can hope for." Jack caught the look on Peter's face. "Look, I know what I'm talking about. You're just going to have to trust me on this one, I know what to do."
Peter was the newest addition in the Cladestine, and sadly the biggest stumbling block they'd seen in years. Peter was barely twenty-three years old, and yet Jack, the leader of the organization was barely that old, if not younger. Everyone always assumed that Ben, the leader of operations was the head of the organization. He was thirty-three, an Ex-Navy SEAL, held over half a dozen different medals, and as of right now was pronounced ; lost in action.
"If we get everything assembled now, then we should have just enough time to get a fair number of people out of here. I'll send in the utility trucks, they've been preparing for this moment for months. They'll be waiting in Central Park. Move out." Jack turned around and was back out the door. Peter was still left with an untrusting feeling, and he completely lost himself in the moment of thought.
Peter felt a hand close on his shoulder. It was Conrad.
"We've got to hurry."
Peter ran in the middle of traffic, people stopping and blaring their horns, shouting expletives at the tops of their voices. Peter ran depserately, the fact that time was quickly running out eating away at his insides. He pulled car doors open and tried to explain what was happening.
"Get out of your car! You need to get to Central Park! It's only a block away! You nee-"
"Get away from me, psycho!" The man swung a fist, which Peter ducked, then got back in his car and sped away. Peter looked over his shoulder, ignoring the honking horns gradually deafening his left ear, he managed to get a look at Conrad, who seemed to be having only slightly better success.
A car screeched to a stop and immediately began to blare it's horn at Peter. The driver got out and stomped up to Peter.
"What's the matter with you?! Standing in the middle of the road like some..." the man's voice trailed off as a high-pitched whistling noise filled the air. Then Peter caught a view of it. As soon as his eyes glanced at it, it was locked into his field of vision. The New Yorker in front of him, the loud city around him, all of it disappeared as he watched a small black object drop. Then it made contact.
It was like an earthquake had hit directly beneath Peter. He steadied himself, though it felt like his ankles were going to be shattered. A split second later, the explosion came and it felt like guns went off right next to his ear. One of his eardrums nearly burst and all he could hear was violent ringing. He worried his body wouldn't be able to withstand another blast like that. Three, four more explosions and it all finally ceased. All havoc broke loose; people were speeding over pedestrians in their cars to drive away from the wreckage, people screaming about how the end was nearing. Peter blocked it all out, remembering his training. Then he remembered.
"Conrad!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, though his voice was still barely audible. "Conrad!" He ran up and grabbed Conrad's shoulder.
"What do we do?" Peter yelled.
"Get them somewhere safe!" Conrad answered, and ushered a group of people away. Conrad abandoned Peter, and soon a nun from the orphanage, followed by a group of children ran down the street in his direction. Many of the kids seemed calm, then Peter realized that they were in shock.
"Stop! Stop!" He told the nun as she neared him. "Go get everyone else you can, I'll get the kids somewhere safe," she began to panic and Peter just put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. It was that look that had always won people over and gained Peter's trust. She took off in another direction and Peter ran into a now empty building. The kids followed behind, too scared to do anything else.
He got down a hallway where most the noise from outside was blocked out, so the children may have been able to lose themselves and maybe focus on other things. They'd be able to get past this. Peter hoped anyway.
"Kids, follow me!" he threw a door opened and looked around. A near empty room. A few papers were scattered here and there, but for the most part it was a place where the children could get on as normal for a few hours hopefully.
"Okay, I'm going to leave now, but I'll be back soon, I promise!" Peter told the kids. They all began crying, and he fought the urge to scream at them. "I'll be back!" He ran out the door and the kids pushed against it. He slammed is shut and locked it with his lockpick. After gaining his composure, he ran back outside and found himself in nearly a foot of water. Massive, double-decker military cargo trucks crowded the streets, although regular civilian vehicles still attempted to drive around them in the panic to get out.
A man was about to crush a young women and her child in the wall. Peter ran up and tore the man out of the car.
"Get in the truck!" Peter screamed.
"**** you!" the man yelled and swung. Peter grabbed his wrist and smacked him in the cheek with a clenched fist. The man staggered into the water and back into his car. Peter reached onto the strap on his right thigh and pulled out a gun. He shot the tires of the man's car and dragged him back out into the water.
"Get in the truck!" The man struggled to get away, so Peter punched him in the kidney and handed him over to two more guards of the Cladestine. He helped the young women and child aboard too. That's when more loud whistles were heard. Twelve eruptions were felt and heard in different parts of the city, one being exceptionally close to the block he was on. He tried to get past that and got more people aboard the trucks.
He ran into Conrad again. "Peter, search the buildings. Gather as many people as you can and get them on the trucks." Then Peter remembered. The kids.
Peter broke off into a sprint back to the building where he left the kids. The trucks were leaving, and they were prepared to leave as many unkept people as necessary to get everyone they had already out of city limits safely. Peter finally picked out the building and he froze. Smoke billowed out of the top. His bllood froze, cold in his veins. For a moment he couldn't bring himself to move, but then forced himself through the murky brown, blooody water and in the front door. The hallway he led the kids down was barracaded by fallen rubble, just beyond the door which the kids lay behind.
"No..." Peter gasped as he picked the lock and opened the door. Smoke poured out into the hallway. The ceiling had collapsed. Only broken chunks of cement and twisted metal greeted him through the doorway. Peter threw himself back in to the wall and grabbed his face screaming. He screamed, part in horror, part in guilt, the rest in self-loathing. Had he just brought the kids to the truck, they'd still be alive...
He shut his eyes tight and breathed heavily. Suppressed emotions were the key to survival, that's what he'd been taught, he wouldn't dismiss it now. Pressing himself hard against the wall, he let a slow uneven breath; his body began shaking uncontrollably. He started gasping rapidly and his eyes shot wide open. The last thing he remembered was the hard slap of tile and everything went black.
"Good job everyone," Jack congratulated everyone at the table. "We managed to save twenty-thousand people. That's more than expected. But don..." Jack's voice faded; Peter couldn't hear it anymore. All he could focus on were the children outside his window.
Yeah, I admit that's a bit long for a short story, considering that's not even all of it. This isn't technically the end, but it could be an alternate ending if I ever decided to change it. If anyone wants to share any input, that'd be pretty cool!
