Runners vs Walkers: The eternal battle for death

Preface

I've always had a hideous temper, that was generally triggered every time someone muttered words like "The Runners." or sometimes, "The Walkers." Runners and Walkers have always been natural enemies, The Walkers being half dead and evil through and through. The Runners were always the ones to stop the situation, helping the people that the Walkers threatened and injured. In a horrifying glimpse at myself, I would say that I am more like a Walker. Despite the love I have for each and every person alive (except Mark, the evil Walker who tortured me into a loveless marriage), no matter who they are, I had the heritage of being a Walker. This news had been depressing from the second I could walk; and I know that's ironic.

"Hey baby." Mark smiles, wrapping his arms around me. I nonchalantly shrug him off, acting as if washing up is the most baffling thing in the world, and deserves the utmost attention.

"In a minute." I whisper. I know he says he loves me, but he's a Walker, and his profession is killing Runners gone loose from the cell's and some innocent people too. I always go behind the scenes and help them out when I can, and many are thankful for that. A few of them hate me because I'm married to Mark; when I would much rather be married to Garrett, a kind and considerate Runner who loved me from the instant he laid eyes on me. He'd declared that love, and I can't help but feel I'd be a lot happier with him. I know it sounds wrong, but Walkers are born killers, and I cannot (and will not) spend my whole life with a murderer.

"Actually; I want you NOW. Not in ten minutes, NOW." His voice is hard and I look at him, eyebrows cocked. My gun is in the holster at my hip, and my hand automatically moves towards it. Mark, being the arrogant idiot that he is, thinks this is a move. I catch the end of the gun and cock the gun, pointing directly between his eyes. I've always been a good shot. Coming from a Walker family, you have to go through training at a young age so you can use a gun correctly. Even before that, though, I was stunning with the weapons I hated using. I'd use it against Mark; if it infiltrated my safety; why wouldn't anyone use one? He stares, and then uses the universal sign for come here. Or, go on then, shoot me. I can never tell the difference. I press my index finger to the trigger. Mark jumps out the way as the bullet shoots straight at him. It scrapes against his left ear, and blood starts flowing immediately.

"You b*t&h!" He shouts, covering his ear as I reload and shoot. It hits him in the foot, and he yelps and drops to the floor; desperately trying to cover both wounds. The Runner in me wants to help him. The Walker in me wants to kick him, and shoot him straight in the head. Instead; I run away, leaving the man I loathed behind me.

Chapter 1

It's been a month, and there is no longer anyone tailing me. I look around the vast landscape I've come to call my home, and smile. Garrett emerges from the tree's, and his eyes fall lovingly upon my face. Garrett found me the Wednesday after I ran away, and we've been together ever since. I've told him I love him, always have, more than I had ever loved Mark; and any other being, either.

"Hello, honey." I say. For once; it is I who says the sweet and loving words, rather than another, who says it disdainfully, and sarcastically. Garrett wraps his arms around my shoulders, and presses his lips lightly against mine. Yet another difference between me and Garrett, and me and Mark. Garrett is tender, gives me a chance to respond; whilst Mark (ever the idiot) forces his lips against mine, pushes his body against mine, and then attempts to hurt me if I don't respond. The hurting never works. I punch him if he tries, and never do I let my guard down around him.

"Babe." Garrett says, pulling my hand into his. I can't help but love Garrett. He says nothing, and yet his expression says more than Mark could ever say out loud. Garrett is so soft, so gentle. And yet I still cannot let my guard down. I feel as if I do, I'll just be at risk again. There is a barking sound and I smile at Garrett, pulling my hand away from his as I run with a spring in my step, towards the scent of cooked flesh. There it is; a huge, full sized buck. We'd placed the snare above the roaring blaze, so that the second the buck got shot with the spear, it was cooked. Cool contraption by any stretch of the imagination. Whenever a buck came within range, the motion sensor would bleep, and the spear would be shot at the buck; as long as it stayed in the five mile radius within the 360 degrees. It sounds complicated, but I stole the sensor from the lab at my old school and have used it for hunting ever since. A year ago, learning about metalwork, I'd managed to learn just enough to add in the spear contraption to it too. Garrett pulls me from my reverie with a wry smile.