Danger Days

1

Frank tore through the trees, the sounds of ferocious dogs barking after him and his own heavy breathing filling his ears. Twigs snapped across his arms and face as he zigged and zagged to escape the masked freaks hot on his tail. A beam of light shot past his head and he yelped. He was already running as fast as he could, but it clearly wasn't fast enough.

His foot caught beneath a wily tree root, and he found himself facedown in a stream. He felt a momentary wave of relief before diving under the water and swimming downstream. As he swam, his fingers brushed something rough. He looked over and found a small dam, then tucked himself against it. He sat, hands over his mouth, trying to control his breathing.

The dogs ran to the edge of the stream, and Frank could faintly make out their yelling about which direction to go. After a few minutes, he could hear footsteps growing closer. He took a deep breath and ducked his head under the water. He waited until he was nearly unconscious to come back up. The woods were silent except for the sounds of running water and insects buzzing.

Frank waited a few more minutes before crawling out of the stream. He shook out his clothes, to no avail. He was drenched. "Shit," he muttered. He sighed and trudged back out of the woods.

He looked around, realizing that he had no idea where he was. The abandoned buildings were spread far apart, and most of them didn't have roofs anymore. There was only one structure that seemed safe enough for someone to stay in.

As he walked up to the old barn, he felt water running down his legs. God, what I would give for a towel right now, he thought. He shivered, then nudged the gigantic barn door open with his shoulder. He held his gun at his hip, anticipating the worst. The barn was empty except for several hay bales. He started to step inside, and was immediately tackled from behind. His gun flew out of his hand and skidded across the floor. Frank struggled under his attacker, earning him a swift wack with the stock of their gun.

A man with bright red hair stepped out from behind a hay bale, holding a yellow gun aimed at Frank's forehead. "Stop fighting," he snarled. "Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you here? And your answer better be good enough to keep me from putting a bullet through that pretty little head of yours."

"My name is Frank," he said quickly, "I'm just here hiding from Draculoids! I swear, I come in peace, man."

The man looked Frank up and down, eyes landing on the box strapped to Frank's hip. It was white, with the BL/ind logo plastered across it. "Really?" said the man. "Mikes." He flipped his gun in an upwards motion, and Frank's captor reached over and unhooked the box from Frank's belt.

"I stole it!" Frank protested. "I use it for disguising myself, I just keep supplies in it!"

The man behind Frank popped the box open and dumped its contents on the ground. There was a pair of white clothes, a map of the country, food rations, and a half-filled water bottle. "It checks out, Gee," he said. "It's all standard-issue."

"See?" Frank said. "I'm a Killjoy, just like you."

"Just like me?" asked the redhead.

"Your gun, it's yellow," Frank said. At that moment, he remembered his own. "Mine is green!" he cried. "It's over there. I dropped it when I came in. Go look, I'll be good."

Frank sat still, keeping his promise. The redhead exchanged glances with the other before making his way to the other side of the barn. He picked up Frank's gun and inspected it. He sauntered back over and flicked his gun again. The man holding Frank stood up, releasing him. "Thank God," he said with a shudder. "Dude, you're soaking wet."

Frank chuckled. "Yeah," he said, "Believe me, I'm not happy about it either." He stood up and dusted himself off.

"Well, it's been nice, but it's time for you to leave now," said the redhead.