Standing before this abomination that could have been spawned only from the deepest areas of fear from a common mind, the mob of children quickly dwindled to a handful, and those that stayed seemed frozen in step. The machine, as if a force of nature, simply continued forward, unstopping and undeterred.
Unable to simply stand back, the youngest boy fought against baser instincts and charged forward, stick clenched tight in his hand, and in closing on the tank he thrust the spear into the ground, launching him onto the bone and flesh, onto the back of terror incarnate. Jack, feeling a similar sense of need, rushed on as well, but met a quite different situation.
He saw as the bolt came towards him, could see every crack and detail in it, and map it in his mind in the time it took to hit, could see the boy mouth “Duck, duck”, but he couldn’t dodge it, and as he fell, the last of the army scattered to the winds, leaving the young boy on his own.
Looking down at Jack, the boy could only snicker.