Chapter Text
They were running so fast that Zulema could have sworn her feet weren't even touching the ground anymore. She felt like she was flying, racing through the desert with a speed that couldn't be human anymore. She felt alive. And she knew that this was it, that this must be it. Her mind was screaming for her to keep running, to get the fuck out of here and to reach that helicopter, but what values did her mind hold anymore. Even though her survival instincts told her something else, she knew, deep down, that this was what she needed; dying on the pinnacle of life.
And so she slowed down her pace until she was merely jogging, then she came to a halt, resting her hands on her knees and looking up to the blonde.
Macarena. The woman who had accompanied her all the way. Her companion, her friend, her lover, her home.
"What the hell are you doing?", yelled the blonde, who had stopped in her tracks the moment she had noticed that Zulema was no longer running. "Vamos!"
"Get out of here", panted Zulema while pushing herself off her knees again and looking directly at the blonde. Her heart was aching, but she told herself that it was due to all the running.
"No", whispered Macarena, an incredulous look on her face.
"Tranquila", said Zulema. "I'm not doing this for you."
"No, Zulema…-"
She was just making it worse, couldn't she see that?
"Cuidate. You're not alone anymore."
A sob broke through Macarena's chest and Zulema felt her own throat tighten but, no, this was it. Macarena took a step towards Zulema, one trembling hand brushing over the brunette's face and lingering in her hair for a moment before Zulema grabbed it and pushed it away. She could not have this anymore.
"Zulema", said Macarena, her voice heavy from suppressed tears. "Don't do this, please."
Zulema squeezed her eyes shut, taking a step back from the blonde. "Run", she said. "And don't look back." In the distance she could hear the engines of the Land Rovers howling. Another sob from the blonde cut through the air and Zulema thought she might have to suffocate.
"Run!", she pressed out, then the cars turned around a corner and sped directly at them. Then, she added, her voice a whisper; "Please."
Macarena swallowed down another sob took a faltering breath. "Gracias", she whispered, her eyes overflowing with tears. Then, she turned around and finally, finally ran.
Zulema had to bite the inside of her cheek until she was tasting blood to not cry out loud. This was it. It was for the best. No more suffering now. No more pain. No more pain. She repeated this like a mantra. No more pain. Both physical and emotional, because she didn't even know which one was worse.
No more pain.
She turned around and dropped to her knees, resting her head on the heated sand of the desert.
No more pain.
She heard the cars coming to a halt, but no gunshots were to be heard even though they had plain sight. Oh, if they would just shoot.
No more pain.
She lifted her head to find at least half a dozen guns directed at her, and only at her. Good. She slowly stood up again, pushing herself off the ground until she was standing straight, facing the hitmen.
No more pain.
Her hands opened and her guns dropped to the ground, landing in the sand with a thud. Her mind was still trying to tell her to keep on fighting because it was not too late, but she knew that it was. It was for her. Her time was up. But there was still no bullett flying towards her, indicating that it truly had to be over. But it hat to.
She raised her right hand, forming a gun with her fingers and pointing it at the hitmen, pulling it backwards as if she were firing off a bullett. But no bullett came for her. She raised her second arm to repeat the motion. This time, it had the effect she had wished for.
She heard the shot a second before she felt an excessive pain exploding just below her right shoulder. She groaned and stumbled back by the impact but before she could catch herself, another bullett graced her left arm, making her cry out loud. She squeezed her eyes shut but that didn’t do anything to stop the next bullet from tearing up her stomach and making her double over. She felt the blood leak out of her at the speed of lighning as she stumbled once more and nearly lost her footing completely. It was excruciating. The scream she let out was fueled by her last strength, her last power, and it came out like the roar of a wounded lion.
The next bullet hit her right in the chest. Her breath was taken away from her and her scream was cut off. Of course. They woulnd’t want her to go down roaring; they wanted her silent. That last shot had been meant just to silence her, to make her choke on her last scream like the scream itself had been the thing that killed her, like her final strength had been her undoing.
Then she fell. Her body crumbled down and she felt like all those bleeding wounds were suddenly one big wound that made her whole body hurt so much that she felt like it would rupture at any second. Her eyes turned towards the sky, then she hit the ground with a thud that was so final that she was sure that this was really, truly, and without a doubt, it.
Her ending.
Her head lulled sideway’s and she tasted metal. By now, she was feeling numb from all the pain that was just too much to bear. But not for much longer. Because soon, she was sure of it, there would be no more pain. Soon. Very soon.
Her eyes fell close and she let her mind drift away. The last image that appeared in front of her inner eye before darkness overcame her was the face of Macarena. Then, there was nothing anymore.
Macarena ran. The helicopter was coming closer with each step she took which only made her fasten her steps. She had nearly reached it, when suddenly, a shot echoed through the desert. Macarena gasped and stopped in her tracks, her heart missing a beat. Another shot, then a scream. A scream from a person she knew so damn well that she would recognize her voice in a hundred.
No. No, no, no!
Another shot. Dear God. And another one. An animalic scream, cut off by yet another shot, then there was silence.
No.
Macarena felt her knees getting weak but she forced herself to keep running. In the distance she could hear the engines of the trucks. She stumbled towards the helicopter, jumped inside and let herself fall onto one of the seats.
Her mind was racing just as fast as her heart. This couldn't be.
The helicopter took off. The hitmen turned around the corner, speeding up when seeing the helicopter. Macarena took out her gun and fired at them. Multiple times, wishing for her bullets to kill each of them. They fired back but the helicopter was already too high in the air for the bullets to reach them. Macarena fired another shot, blindly, just because they fucking deserved it.
She leaned back in her seat, panting. Her mind was racing just like her heart but neither of them could catch up to the events that had just occured. Or maybe she just didn’t want them to catch up to them. But just a second later, that became inevitable; when a black spot on the dusty ground came into her eye-sight. A black spot that definetely didn't belong there. Her heart missed a beat and she sucked in a breath.
Zulema.
Without thinking twice, she grabbed her seatbelt and fiddled at the fastener. "Pull down!", she yelled at the pilot. "Pull the helicopter down!"
The pilot shook his head, holding his curse. "No."
Macarena’s breath catched in her throat, her fingers still trying to open her seatbelt. "I said, pull the fucking helicopter down!"
He continued to shake his head. Macarena let out a groan and finally, her shaky fingers managed to loosen her seatbelt. She pushed it off her lap and leaped towards the pilot, pointing her gun at his temples in one fluid movement.
"You pull this thing down right now. Or I will“, she snarled.
The pilot threw her a quick glance. "Mierda“, he cursed, then he looked at the black figure at the ground, pulled one of the levers and finally, the helicopter lowered.
Macarena staggered towards the exit and held onto one of the seats. Her hair was flying all around her and in front of her face, but even with blonde strands of hair in front of her eyes she could see the still body of Zulema in the sand. Too still. A sob broke through her chest.
No. Please, no.
She jumped out of the helicopter before it even touched the ground. It took her just a few steps to get to Zulema. When she saw the blood leaking out of the brunette’s body, she dropped to her knees. Her hands were on Zulema’s body instantly, trying to find the wounds from where the blood came, but there were too many for her hands to cover. The most crucial ones, however, were one on her stomach and another one on her chest and she pressed down on them even though the blood was flowing out of it so visciously that it was spilling through her fingers. She didn’t realize that she was crying until tears fell down onto Zulema’s body and sobs made her hands temble.
"Zulema“, she whispered, her voice quivering. "Please.“
"Your biddings won’t help her.“
Macarena flinched at the sudden voice of the pilot. Her head jerked up to see the man crouching down beside her, in his hands several towels. He let them fall into the sand next to Macarena.
"Press them down at the wounds“, he said, his gaze fixed at the brunette’s face.
Macarena took her hand of Zulema’s chest, took one of the towels and pressed it onto the wound. She did the same with the one at the brunette’s stomach while the pilot pressed two fingers against Zulema’s neck. A few seconds later he removed them, his eyes directed at Macarena. The blonde’s breathing stopped.
"Keep on pressing“, the pilot said with a nod while pushing himself off the ground. Still crouched down though, he slid his arms beneath Zulema’s body. Macarena took a faltering breath.
"She is…“, she began, but found herself unable to finish the sentence. The pilot looked at her with a stern look on this face.
"Alive“, he said. "Barely. We have to hurry.“
Macarena’s heart missed a beat. Alive.
The pilot stood up, slowly, with Zulema in his arms. Macarena stood up silmultaneously, keeping her hands firmly pressed down at the towels covering the wounds. They started moving towards the helicopter, Zulema between Macarena and the pilot. At the entrance, the pilot nodded for Macarena to get in first, then he placed Zulema beside her on the floor, threw the door shut and jumped onto his seat, starting the propeller at once.
"Try to keep her body still“, he said with a last glance back to them. "I’ll try to fly swiftly.“
Macarena nodded while letting out a shaking breath. Keeping her hands on Zulema’s wounds, she carefully lifted her leg over the brunette’s body and positioned it on the other side of Zulema’s hip, then she adjusted her position so that her legs were practically holding the brunette’s waist still while the blonde was kneeling above her. The helicopter took off and Macarena felt a tear running down her cheek. It fell right onto Zulema’s chest.
"Hold on, Zule“, she whispered, looking down at the brunette’s still face. "Please. Hold on. I know you can.“
The only response she got was the roaring of the helicopter.
"It’s gonna be fine“, Macarena continued, her voice on the verge of breaking. Another tear fell down at the brunette’s chest that was just ever so slightly heaving. "You’re gonna be fine. I’m here. I’m here for you. Just for you.“
At the sight of the woman beneath her, Macarena felt like breaking down. Like collapsing, like giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to be strong. If not for herself, then for Zulema. Because Zulema needed her right now. And she needed Zulema. So she took a faltering breath, sniffed, and kept on pressing down at the wounds.
Because she would not let Zulema Zahir die on her.