I carried on running. I didn’t know what else I could do. Part of me wanted to run back over to Dan and help him, but I knew that by the time I got there he would probably already be dead, and even if he wasn’t, all that I would achieve by it would be getting myself killed too, which doesn’t really seem like much of an achievement to me, getting yourself killed at the moment is pretty easy to be honest. As I ran, I couldn’t help but think about Chris and PJ too, I hoped they were alright, because at the moment it was getting harder and harder to
keep alive, and I’m not sure I could manage losing more than one friend in the same day, I’m not sure I could manage one to be honest.
I tried to convince myself that what had happened to Dan wasn’t my fault. I was going to tell Chris and PJ exactly what I was telling myself, that Dan had just tripped up, and that there was nothing I could have done about it. I tried to keep telling myself that was what had happened, that he had just been unlucky, but it didn’t seem to work. I remember what happened far too well. I remember running, and knowing that I wasn’t going fast enough, that I was going to get myself killed and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t die, not now, not after all this time working so hard to stay alive, Dan was just ahead of me, he was going ahead without me, and he was just leaving me to die, so he was no better than I was, surely? I remember when I decided that I would do anything to stay alive. I remember the moment when I realised what I would have to do. I remember tripping Dan and leaving him to die.