Heir Ascending

I'm into murders and executions mostly - Brett Easton Ellis

More residences, this time terraced, followed by a row of stores, line the town's streets. In the face of Satan's brash stares, the moon seemed to cloak herself in a veil. It was a chilly night. All of the doors were shut, and all of the windows were darkened, showcasing their century of abandonment like a badge of shame.

And as always the streets were empty. One would conclude that no one has walked those lonely streets in a long time based on their look. Everything around us had a deathly tinge to it. Newcastle, Wyoming, as Oliver called our current city.

After injuring my ankle in the ditch when we were training, I had told Oliver we should keep going because small towns were never secure from the Cacooey, but he insisted on stopping at the school down the road to get some medical supplies.

"It's more dangerous for us to continue at night anyway," he countered my protests. "We have a much greater chance of dying if we're all exhausted. Plus, if you don't get off your ankle soon, you'll find that you won't be able to walk on it tomorrow."

The school looked nothing like the ones back in the Zones. There was always one high school, per Zone, and they were always the newest and most advanced buildings there. But here, the school was a square, brick-built structure, with only six visible windows, and all boarded up.

"Put your hands where I can see them," a voice from behind commands. Like lightning, we turn to face the source. But the man is accompanied by 2 others, each with a gun pointed at us.

"Put your weapons down and hands in the air," he says again.

"No. What's to keep you from shooting us the second we do?" Oliver counters.

"Do you really have an alternative?"

"Kill you all and hide out in that school for a night," Oliver responds casually.

"Maybe you kill one of or even two, but you'll lose one or more of your own in the process-"

"Jerry. They're only kids," the older man of the group whispers. A chaffed, rough palm clasps around my throat, and the scent of dirt, and body odour fills my nostrils. His grip tightens with the strength of an orangutan and the determination of a man with nothing to lose.

"Put down the weapons or the girl will die," the fourth man holding me warns.

"Alright, alright," Oliver relinquishes, "lower your weapons," he informs the rest of our group.

"The girl." He barks at the man. One finger at a time he loses his grip, and Drax holds out his hand to me and I pull myself from his grasp the rest of the way.

"Are you hurt?" He asks me as I tremble. I shake my head, but he searches my neck for any signs of injury anyway.

"We just need somewhere to lay low for the night. Please," Kim begs. "My friend is injured and needs to rest."

"You're welcome to stay with us-" the once hostile man now said also too calmly.

"No. We'll just be on our way," Oliver replies and starts retreating slowly.

"We have antibiotics and medical attention, as well as showers, food and a place you can sleep. We are peaceful people."

"Yeah, that's why you held me in a chokehold," I grumble.

"Oliver we don't know if there are any more Cacooey here and you said it yourself, Eden needs to rest, it's only dangerous if we keep going in the dark, and none of us have rested for over 14 hours." Kim pleads.

"You will need to hand over your weapons however upon entering."

"Not happening," Oliver laughs darkly.