Battle Born

Chapter 1

     I wake up first that chilly morning, almost laying in a pool of drool that drips out of my best friend, Bubbles' mouth after taking in the biggest waft of something beyond awful. My nose scrunches up in disgust and I go to roll over but a sharp, sore pain makes me wince and nearly cry out in pain.
"Fuck." I whimper, placing a hand over it. "What the fuck?" I groan, forcing myself to roll on my back and the pain tries even harder. I slowly sit up and rub my neck, feeling a bump in the middle of my jugular. "Wha..." I look at my hand and see a small smear of blood on my finger tips. "Bubbles." I reach out and shake her shoulder. "Wake up." She groans and pushes my hand away but I peel one of her eyes open.
"Jeez! Alright, alright I'm up!" She loudly groans, rolling on her back but she shoots up mid roll with a hand over her neck. "Ow! What the fuck!?" She pulls her hand away to look at it and I just barely catch the tiny bit of blood on it before she puts it back over her neck. "What happened last night?" She sniffs the air before her armpits. "Okay, what the hell is that smell? It definitely isn't me."
"I don't know but I'm having the same problem as you." Her eyes, dull with sleepy confusion, look into mine. "Look." I slowly twist my body and neck far enough so she can see what might be there.
"It's a hole, a pretty fucking big one. Like someone got you with one of those huge ass needles they use for women who are giving birth." I look at her. "What about me?" She twists, pulling her hand away from it and I see it looks like two or three bees got her in the same place.
"It's so red and agitated looking." I mutter and she looks at me.
"Did you do this?" I shake my head, wincing. "Someone had to because I sure as hell didn't do this."
"I know, you're fucking terrified of needles. I doubt you'd even touch one to save your life." I grumble, placing a hand back over the sore spot.
"Damn skippy." She mutters and pushes the fuzzy wolf blanket off of her legs. "God damnit." She groans and lean into it. "Uh, what are we doing today again? I forgot."
     "I told you three times yesterday." I sigh.
     "Well obviously forth times the charm." I lazily glare at her. "It's not something to do with school is it? Because if it is, it ain't happening. We just got here and I don't have the money to get tickets back to Atlanta today."
     I shake my head. "No."
     "Is it work? Do they want us back?"
     I shake my head again. "Nuh."
     "Help me out here woman. I don't remember." She snips.
     "Your mom's birthday!" Her eyes widen, her back straightening and I nod.
    "Oh shit, it is." She breathes and I chuckle.
    "Yeah. You're like the worst daughter in the world right now." I tease. "C'mon, your mom will be here any minute and mine will probably want us downstairs to help decorate." She quickly dashes for for her bag and I wearily stand up, careful not to worsen the pain that now throbs as my blood rushes up to my head. I walk to my closet and swing open the door to see it's new-house bare, save for one hanger that holds a fringed skull muscle shirt and black denim skinny jeans that tie instead of button. Oddly enough, my favorite outfit. "What the hell?" I mutter.
     "Hm-oh my, god. What the hell? Where did all your clothes go?" Bubbles asks.
     "I have no idea."
     "Oh, you know what it is?" I yank the outfit off and turn to look at her. "It's probably your sister pulling another prank on you."
     "We called a truce two days ago." She looks at me like I'm stupid.
     "When have you ever known her to stick to a truce?" She deadpans and I nod.
     "True." I sigh and waste no time or shame changing out of my black shorts and white tank top into my sister-preplanned outfit. I slam my closet door shut and pick up my cardigan that kind of reminds me of those movies where the killer wears a big long hood to hide their face off my carpet floor before stepping into my leather lace up knee boots.
     "I know I probably should know this, but how old is my mom turning?" Bubbles asks.
     "I'm pretty sure she's turning twenty five for the nineteenth time." She goofily chuckles and stands in front of me, holding out her hand wrapped in the leather glove she cut the third finger off of so she could see the knot ring we bought together all those years ago. "At least you don't forget everything." I mutter, grabbing her hand and kissing her ring as she does mine.
      "I'm not that bad of a friend. I may pick on you but that's only because I love you."
     "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's just get downstairs. My mom probably already burnt something judging by the smell and I don't know how much longer my clothes will survive in the hands of my sister." I say, grabbing our phones and ear buds as well as her black square glasses off my desk. She pushes her glasses on as she leads the way out of my tiny room in a 'if I ever become you, kill me' black wife beater under a camo jacket that buttons and fishnet ripped skinny jeans, letting a stench worse than burnt anything inside. "Jesus!" She groans, covering her mouth and nose and I nearly gag. "Your mom may not be the best cook in the world but this definitely is not her doing." Her ankle high converse squeaks as she walks into the hallway to the top of the stairway but when she gets to the first step she stops dead in her tracks.
     "I know the smell is bad but we have to go down there." I grab her wrist and go to walk down but she yanks me back. "Bubbles-" she smacks a hand over my mouth and slowly looks back at me with such fearful eyes.
     She slowly and shakily removes her hand before hesitantly looking back over the railing. I walk around her to see what exactly has her so shaken and I know where the stench is coming from now. It's not anything my mother may have burnt, it's not anything I can honestly say I wish we woke up to. I wish Bubbles pushed me back in my room and locked the door for good because at least I wouldn't have to bare witness to all the blood, to all the bodies, to all the destruction, to all the death.
"Nova." Bubbles shakily whispers and I look at her. "My mom is down there." My eyebrows curve up and I can see the fat tears in her eyes. "My mom is down there." She whimpers and I can feel my body deflate. "She's-" she stops herself and looks back before quickly going down the stairs.
"Bubbles, don't." I whisper yell but she doesn't listen. She's down the stairs faster than I can stop her but I quickly catch up to her, grabbing her shoulder. "We need to get out of here and go find some help. The guy who did this could still be here." She harshly sniffles and shakes her head.
"We were upstairs and the door was unlocked, he could've easily come into your room and did just as much damage as he did to them to us but he didn't. It's obvious he wants us alive but I don't understand why." She slowly starts into the living room, the messiest, bloodiest, most gruesome room in the entire house. Blood splattered on the walls and pooled on the wooden planks, limbs and bits stuck or dried onto the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the furniture. It's a little hard to tell, but I know without a doubt my entire family-my mother, father, little brother, little sister and both of my big sisters-are dead. But Bubbles's mom, it's her birthday and, here in a few weeks, it's supposed to be Bubbles's. Her mom promised to take her somewhere she's always wanted to go. Now, she won't be able to even hug her.
"Oh, god." She brokenly whimpers and I see her standing in front of the kitchen, in between the dining room and island table.
"What is it?" I ask, walking up to her over the pile of guts that look torn to shreds. "Bubbles." She gestures to the counter as she looks away, trying so hard not to bawl where she stands. I look at what has her even more distressed and my heart sinks into my stomach, making it wanting to empty itself.
"The stupid bastard couldn't even leave the dogs alone." She squeaks.
     Three of my babies lay on their backs with their guts torn wide open. They don't even have eyes or a tongue anymore but...wait...one of my babies isn't here.
"Wait." She looks up at me. "Chief!" I yell and she sniffles, looking around. "Chief, baby! Where are you!?" We listen and seconds later hear his collar clicking and his nails scratching the floor. Bubbles breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down to hug our Anatolia Shepard who loves her more than he will ever love me.
"Oh, my boy." I sigh, kneeling next to them and he licks my face as I hug him. "I'm so glad you're okay. Oh, it's such a relief." I kiss the side of his snout, earning another kiss. "Okay. Okay." I stand. "Okay, we-we need to get out of here and go find the police" I start and she nods. "I'll go get his leash." She grabs my shoulder and steers me to the front door, holding Chief by his collar. I yank down his blue rope leash and attach it to his red worn collar before walking out of the front door I hadn't noticed was wide open this whole time. Bloody foot and paw prints trail behind us as we walk down the sidewalk and something strikes me as odd. More odd than my entire family being dead. "Bubbles." I stop, forcing her and Chief to. I look around the neighborhood, listening to Chief whine and see all the cars are still in their drive ways, some garages are opened and some cars blare with open doors, but there's nobody on the sidewalks when there should be joggers, dog walkers, mailmen and leaving workers. "We're in Hollywood."
"It should not be this quiet." She mutters, nodding. "Something's off." She shakes her head. "Something's very, very wrong." In the eerie silence, except for Chief's whining, we watch the trees rustle with the cold wind, the birds fly away and listen to a woman scream she's being murdered. Bubbles and I both jump into each other and Chief starts to bark like crazy in that same direction. I instinctively reach back to grab her hand and she intertwines our fingers.
"What was that?" I shakily ask, my heart beating against every square inch of my body.
"I-I don't know but it didn't sound good." She stutters and I nod.
"This is too fucking freaky."
"Not to add to the whole freaky feeling but..." I look back at her. "It's starting to look how grandpa described."
"Are-Are you kidding me right now?" I scoff and she shrugs. "He died because of what he believed in. Don't go down that same road, especially not now."
     She nods and sighs. "Okay fine...but how else would you explain this? This is exactly what he said the start would look like."
"What did I just say!?"
"Okay, okay. Calm down." She quickly says and I angrily sigh.
"Grandpa was a paranoid schizoid who believed the moon was made out of actual cheese and that martins were waiting for the right moment to take over his mind. I can't believe you would even think to take what he says with anything but a grain of salt."
     "Okay, Nova. I get it. I'm sorry I even brought it up but...think about it."
"Oh my god!" I groan and turn back to her but she quickly places a hand over my mouth before I can get another word out. Chief starts to growl and she slowly points behind me. I turn around and see distant bodies leisurely walking out in the middle of the open street. We look at each other and Bubbles wraps Chief's leash once around her hand before looking back at those people who draw nearer and nearer, seemingly getting faster.
"I think we should run." Bubbles slowly mutters, stepping backwards and I nod before we both take off against the crystallized wind, Chief easily keeping pace beside us.
"I should've grabbed my pocket knife before we left!" I say, looking back at the inhumanely fast group of adults who look like they got the crap beat out of them.
"Pay attention!" Bubbles yells, pulling me out of the way of a fire hydrant. "I can't carry you while running." She pulls me across the street, glancing behind her every so often as we run down the sidewalk we used take on our way to our old job.
"What is happening!?" I look behind me again and see the group catching up fairly quickly. My chest tightens and I can't breathe.
"Watch out!" Bubbles lets go of my hand as a tall, black haired man runs between us. "Get inside!" He yells, glancing back at us and Bubbles grabs my arm to yank me inside a large studio with the doors being held open by two very familiar faces. Shots fire before the man runs back inside and the other two slam the doors shut, shoving two metal bars in between the handles just before hands and bodies pound against it. Bubbles steps in front of me and wraps Chief's leash around her hand again as she stares at three faces I never thought I'd ever see in real life.
     "Those shots could've attracted more of those things. And you shouldn't have waisted ammo like that. It's low enough as it is."
     "Everything is okay, Jake." The same man who just saved our lives says and looks back at us. "Are you okay?" He asks is.
"We aren't hurt." Bubbles says and my chest burns with the want to just blurt out that I know them. So I do.
"You're Andy Biersack, Christian Coma and Jake Pitts." I point out and Bubbles glares back at me.
"I take it you're a fan." Andy sighs, shoving his gun into a holster on his hip. Bubbles crosses her arms over her chest and Chief sits, panting.
"This day just keeps getting weirder and fucking weirder."