These are the last lines of a roughly 7000 word short story where I played with switching POVs. It's my entry in Lilah's Last Lines Blogfest. Go here to check out the other entries and have a happy weekend.
You stretch and shift and reach for her in the dark. Your eyes snap open; the sheets are cool beneath your hand. Pushing up on an elbow, you listen hard in the silence.
You leverage yourself upright, swing your legs around. Your feet hit the floor and you push off the bed; long strides march you across the room to the crib.
Glacial cold crawls out of your gut, climbs up and into in your chest; makes it hard to breathe.
Two silenced clicks split the stillness, and you’re moving before the muted sound of two quick thumps in succession, snagging the Berretta as you edge out of the room and into the hallway.
You almost trip over the first body and your hands come up, palms out as the pistol swings to target you.
“Where’s the baby?” Raw words tear at your throat, explode in the silence.
“Down the hall.” Her voice is low and harsh; a fierce whisper as she drops her weapon, reaches over to check for a pulse on the other body.
You stand in the dark and the silence and look at the woman you love.
And you hope.
“We have to go.”
She looks up at you through the tops of bright, brittle eyes set deep in the shadows of her perfect, pale face.
Biting down on her lip as she flows to her feet and stands, she doesn’t say a word as she pushes past you into the bedroom.
You shrug the flight bag higher on your shoulder as you bounce on the balls of your feet, sharp eyes scanning the length of the dim hallway.
In less than an hour the first red-orange brush strokes of the sun will be rising over the foothills, waking the city, and you want to be gone.
The door snicks open beside you and she slips out, baby on her hip, shadowed figure behind her.
She steps to your side and the old woman’s eyes slide over you as gnarled fingers come up to cup her face.
She smiles and turns, shifts the baby more comfortably on her hip as she walks down the hall.
The door snicks closed behind you as you follow, catch up to her.
You slide your arm over her shoulders and she doesn’t pull away.