To Be A Runner

Chapter 30: Information Exchange

I cross my arms and huff as I stand in front of the gates. After two sleepless nights consisting of a very vivid memory of the day Wes died and the swirling questions about the many mysteries that have yet to be solved I'm here, ready to do another mission.

One that doesn't include getting answers.

"Okay, Runner Five, special little assignment for you today," Sam says, and I scoff in reply. "Oh, don't do that. You know we have other things that have to be done. We can't just drop other missions to try to find answers."

'Yeah, I know,' I tap into the mic, a small sigh leaving my mouth.

"And at least you don't have to wear a head cam today," He says cheerily in attempt to lift my mood. "I know how much you dislike wearing it."

I smile and nod, although he can't see it. I despise wearing that stupid head cam. It's one of the most uncomfortable things to wear while running, and that's saying a lot.

But putting eight more pounds on your head and having to run with it on... the only thing comparable is when I had the stomach flu and threw up all over myself and had to run for another two hours to get back to the AMTB.

I shudder at the memory.

But at least the smell kept the zoms away.

"Anyway, it's nothing too taxing, but it's pretty damn important. You are taking our most valuable supplies to the Red Settlement. These supplies are so damn valuable, we're sending two of you to do it."

At that, a man steps up beside me. I eye him with a skeptical look, but it's hard to actually be judgmental of him. He looks to be about forty, and he's not that much taller than me so I won't have to sprint to keep up with him. His overly large glasses make him look like a bit like a nerd, but there's a look in his blue eyes that tells me he could take a zom out without a second thought.

All in all he reminds me of Cornelius from that Disney movie 'Meet the Robinsons'.

God, I miss Disney movies.

"Say hello to Chris McShell, Runner Ten," Sam introduces, and I raise a hand in greeting, which Chris does the same slowly in response.

"Hello," He says lowly, almost timidly.

"Yeah, he's quiet, but he knows what he's doing. Go on. Tell her how many zombies you've killed, Runner Ten." There's excitement in the radio operator's voice, but Chris shifts awkwardly where he stands.

"I'd rather not talk about it-"

"Y-yeah, yeah, yeah. Just say the number."

"It's just that I-I notice certain patterns in their movements so I was able to position myself in such a way that I-" He starts, seeming to grow less shy and more open about his work, but he's interrupted again by Sam.

"Three-hundred and eighty-three. Three-hundred and eighty-three confirmed kills," He exclaims with the voice of a giddy child.

I look over at him with wide eyes. I could tell by the man's eyes he knew how to take a zom out but that many... I'm impressed.

"Three-hundred and eighty-seven actually," Chris corrects with a shrug, "because of last night with the-"

"He's a machine; A total damn machine." Sam interrupts once again, and Chris frowns while I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

'I think you have a fan,' I sign after nudging him with my elbow. He raised a brow in confusion and now it is my turn to frown as I realize he doesn't know sign language.