Calm before the storm

The gunfire had stopped, for the moment. The platoon leader yelled out commands, and his soldiers spread out in a search pattern. Franklin knew he couldn't hide behind his crate forever, but if he moved, he'd be seen.

Heavy bootfalls approached his mediocre hiding place, getting louder and louder. The gravel crunching beneath them brought up a feeling of dread in Franklin. It sounded too much like bones being broken. The boots paused, and Franklin held his breath.

Unarmed and still dressed in his bright yellow prisoner garb, he would be an easy target even through the rapidly darkening courtyard. Sweat beaded off his forehead and ran down his face. Franklin's entire body was soaked, and his knees had started to shake. He couldn't stay crouched here forever, and if those boots didn't start moving soon, he would pass out from not breathing.

The boots started moving closer.

--

Some random fiction for you. I can write fine here, but I try to work on anything I want to get done, I get blocked up. Lousy selective writer's block.