The sound of gunshots are still ringing in my ear. I hold the hand of the little boy whose mother’s dead body lies in the sunken earth as we run deeper and deeper into the maze, nothing but moonlight to guide our way.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like there’s no way out of this maze, and the only thing that’s waiting for us, whichever path we choose, is death from one gun or another.

We stop running as soon as I feel the little boy’s little feet starting to drag. He has no energy left, all the adrenaline leeched from his body like the light from his mother’s hazel eyes.

He looks up at me, his eyes like a puppy who doesn’t know he’s about to be put down.

‘Mister … If we survive, can I go home?’

My mouth opens and closes. What can I possibly say to this child who has just watched his mother get murdered, who doesn’t understand that we likely only have moments left to live?

I bend down to his level and tuck a stray strand of hair behind his head, clasping his face as I do so.

‘Yeah buddy. If we survive, I promise I’ll get you home.’

A gun fires nearby, startling us both. We look into each other’s eyes, embers of defiance glowing between us. And so we run, praying for survival.