The Consequence of Us

Chapter 1 Part 3

Jack took aim and shot an infected that got too close to Kit. She was out of arrows, but her machete was in her hand and in a move that looked effortless,  severed the head of a rotting Infected.

Not once did she reach for the 9-mil at her hip, instead she hacked and slashed her way to the stranger's side, her blade taking out any infected who got too close.

He put a bullet in the forehead of the last infected and immediately moved to Kit's side, his 9-mil still gripped in one hand.

These strangers could pose a threat, even after Kit's stunning display of stupidity. Desperation and hunger made even the nicest person dangerous.

"Thank you, darlin. We were in a bad way before you two showed up." The woman held out a hand to Kit, deep crow's feet creased around the woman's eyes when she smiled. "That was some mighty fine fighting. Me and my boy are grateful."

Kit hesitated, but slowly slipped her hand into the strangers. The woman turned to Jack and offered the same hand.

"My names Billy-Joe and that there is Buddy."

The man behind Billy-Joe didn't offer his hand, but nodded at Kit and mumbled a "ma'm.".

"Jack." He pulled Kit by the scruff of her neck to his side, his hand tightened in warning. "This is Kit. We're happy to help but..."

Groans in the woods ended his brush off speech. There wasn't just one, no it sounded like an army of infected. His guess was confirmed when they started emerging from the trees in large groups.

"Move your ass, Kit."

Kit paused long enough to collect a couple arrows from limp bodies before they sprinted into the trees the same way they came. To his annoyance, the strangers followed after them.

"There's an old farmhouse not far from here." Billy-Joe puffed, keeping pace even with her ridiculous black flip-flops.

There wasn't much of a choice, if a horde caught them out in the open, they were dead. He'd solve one problem at a time.

"Lead the way."

The farmhouse was in the middle of nowhere and looked like it was abandoned long before the apocalypse. The white siding rotted right off the house and the front gutter hung vertically by a single screw.

"Take the rifle." Jack threw his pack with the rifle strapped to it to Kit, shut the splintered, wooden front door, and crouched to the side of the single window.

The unwelcome tag alongs were, thankfully, smart enough to crouch in the corner, their guns ready.

They were in an unsecured house, surrounded by potential enemies, and pursued by a horde of infected, but Kit's movements were confident as she checked the rifle's chamber for bullets. The extra pack of ammo was open in front of her on the floor.

Pride filled him, if he had to choose someone to have his back, it would be her. In battle, she was unflappable, her actions quick and precise.

She looked up and caught his eyes on her. Steel grey eyes filled with determination and regret, she held his gaze for a moment before turning her head to peer out the window.

"Here they come," She whispered.

The first few appeared from the trees, their gazes unfocused and uninterested in the house.

More infected appeared, a lot more than he initially thought. They appeared in droves, their awkward ambles synchronized as they passed the house.

Jack's muscles knotted with tension, his grip on his 9-mil almost painful, but all he could do was wait.