"Let me go."
Those three words hung heavily in the air, as another platoon of soldiers swept past us, screaming orders to one another and shooting off ineffective lead and explosives at the Tripods.
I started to pull away. My dad's hand slid off my leg gradually as I crawled away from him. Time itself seemingly had slowed. I got to my feet and turned around to face him. We stared at each other for a fleeting second, our uncertainty reflected in each other's eyes. He turned and ran back down the hill to Rachel.
Thoughts were racing wildly through my mind at this point. Ray, the asshole Ray Ferrier, who was my father, was letting me go? I was blissfully oblivious of the explosions surrounding me, and the people and soldiers shouting. I still couldn't quite grasp the fact that I was free. Free, but very much alone.
Another blast roared deafeningly to my right, snapping me back to the harsh reality of my situation. I stared as one of the army's jeeps came rolling down the hill, its interior aflame, as well as its unfortunate imprisoned passengers. I watched, wide-eyed, as the jeeps rolled down the hill one by one, each trailing red flames, the screams of their ill-fated riders echoing behind them. At that moment I decided that I no longer wanted to help fight the Tripods. Just surviving to see Mom and Rachel's smiling faces would be enough for now.