Convoy

In progression

ALRIGHT HERE'S THE BRIEF:
IDGAF WHAT THIS BECOMES *lie* BUT ILL PROBS LOSE INTEREST CUZ ITS ON THIS SITE. Yup. Woot go team. It really  short so far not even worthy of a chapter title. Serlong chicas y muchachos

"Get your ass over here boy!" Clint roared, throwing his half finished bottle of beer past my head. It smashed against the wooden post that I leaned on. I jumped at the loud smash that disrupted my daydream. He cracked up laughing at the frightened expression on my face. I glared at him and punched him in the arm playfully. Clint always did something life threatening like that if you weren't paying attention to your surroundings, and it didn't stop him even when he accidentally killed Atkin doing it. Amos growled "Clint I warn you: If you so much as splash beer on someone doing that I will slit your throat." Amos was the eldest of our gang, which we only knew because of the wrinkles on his face. He rarely approved of anything and when he did all you'd ever get was a grunt. He was the silent type that didn't speak unless spoken to, and didn't talk unless necessary. Clint on the other hand was the vertical opposite, he took risks all the time, did his best to frighten people, only believed in bad luck if someone says something bad will happen. Amos shook his head at him and stared him down with hardened eyes, daring him to protest and claim that it was 'perfectly safe'.

Clint gave me a sparkling grin and threw me a cigarette. I caught it in between two fingers and lit it, taking a long drag to slow my racing heart, still shaken from smash. "Morning sunshine." Clint greeted Ashley sarcastically as she stalked past looking fatigued, she normally took night watch so slept through most of the day and awoke to the reds oranges and yellows of the sunset on the cloudless sky.

"Mornin' y'all." She yawned and proceeded to the camps kitchen, a wooden table with boxes full of food supplies.

After a minute of silence Ashley screeched, "Leo! Where the hell are my Reese's Puffs?"

Shit, I forgot they were Ashley's, who was quite protective of her food.

"Uh, um... I may have forgotten they were yours..." I mumbled.

Ashley balled her fists, "Just you wait, I'll get you when you've forgotten about it all."

I gulped and nodded. I was the youngest of the group at fourteen years old, Ash was a year and two days older at 15, Clint was seventeen old and Amos never shared anything personal about himself which was quite odd but then it suited his character, odd. The rest of the gang was about fifteen to nineteen years old.

I flicked the fag to the floor and rubbed it into the dirt with my boot.

"Troy!" Amos yelled, "Get your fat butt over here, its Leo's 'time'!"

I furrowed my brow, my time? What did that mean? Clint grinned at me and shot a finger gun at me. Still confused, I blindly followed Amos and a sleepy Troy up the old wooden stairs blindly like a sheep.

Troy walked into the green tent at the top of the stairs and returned with a large case. He dropped it to the floor and it snapped open.

"Pick two." Amos commanded. I stared at the weapons within the case. Different pistols, suppressed and automatic. I picked a large Desert Eagle with a suppresser and a machine pistol with select fire. Amos nodded, "Good choice." Troy threw me two holsters, a leg strap for the suppressed and a chest strap for the machine pistol. I fitted them on and pulled my hoodie over the top. I gazed at my reflection in a shard of glass, my dark brown cropped hair with dark green eyes. I unzipped the hoodie and revealing the firearm underneath. I felt intimidating. For most people these things were unnecessary, but for my lifestyle things can get dangerous. According to Amos I've been working the "baby trade", and now I have to step up and wade deeper into the violent side of our gang.

"Wake up Leo..." A faint voice seemed to call out to me. "Leo wake up!" I sat up, startled. The stench of dried blood and smoke hung in the air. Yells and cries for help echoed outside the tent. I stared at Clint, "What's happening?" I cried.

He stared at me, "Ejército. They've come for us." My jaw dropped.

"But the protection money?" I asked.

"We haven't paid for seven weeks." He spoke in a low, quiet voice.

"What do we do?"

"We have to fight. We can't win, but we can do our best and maybe even escape."

"The chopper?"

"Destroyed."

There was a silence. "Better get ready." I nodded towards our packs.

He nodded. I pulled a jacket on, slipped on my pack and holstered my pistols.

"Ready?" Clint asked.

"Ready." I clenched my teeth as Clint unzipped the tent and we charged out.

When I stepped out of the tent I was immediately in combat. As it turned out two Ejército had been waiting for us. I got grabbed by the collar and thrown down to the ground. Instinctively I kicked up, my foot crunching into the soldado's face. He stumbled back and tripped on a guy rope. I launched myself at him and we struggled, I'd always been strong for my age. And with the help of Clint we overpowered him. Clint shot him in the head, a spray of warm sticky blood splashed on my face. Before I could wipe it off Clint pulled me to my feet and pointed to Amos' SUV. "But that's Amos', he'll kill us!" I protested.

Clint shook his head, "If we're lucky the old bastard will get shot down, or at least get brain trauma!" He yelled over the loud gunfire. He pushed me forwards and we ran to the car. Clint smashed the window with a brick and unlocked from within.

"Get in!" An explosion shook the ground and shook the SUV. I quickly got in the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. Clint hit reverse and we shot backwards onto the main road. He hit the gas and headed east. I turned around to see Amos and Ashley in a van speeding towards us. They did not look particularly jolly. Nor did the seventeen humvees behind them but they weren't what had me worried. Clint and I had chosen to run instead of fight, leaving our family behind. Amos gave me a look so terrifying I almost wish I'd been captured by the Ejército. Almost.