Ian Thornburrow-Dobson

Paradisum

The wail of sirens and the hum of the drones hovering overhead made Helena run with more urgency. Her hair was flapping behind her as she sprinted blindly through the ruined remnants of the high-rise building, the crunch of glass and showers of dust accompanying her frantic footfalls. The rhythmic pounding of her dogged pursuers kept Helena moving forwards, even though her chest burned with the intensity of a thousand suns and she was becoming increasingly dizzy as fatigue began to set in. It was just pure adrenalin and instinct she had honed over a lifetime of living on the fridge of society that kept her going now.