The Altered.

Chapter XXXII

Miles stuffed everything that had been in his arms into the bags Kano had given him, excluding the knife.

Whatever fear he'd felt momentarily a few seconds ago returned, this time at its peak. "We need to get to her," he said at once, but Kano was already racing towards where he'd heard the scream.

Miles hesitated, though every bone in his body was telling him to move. Most of his common sense was screaming at him to rush after Kano and try to get to Bronte to see what was happening, but the small part of him that argued against that is the part he listened to.

Miles spun in the other direction and bolted towards the window they'd entered through. He swerved around isles and shelves and any other obstacle he encountered, which included shattered glass when he reached the window. Miles dumped all of his bags full of food, backpack included, onto the ground. He considered if he ought to get his flashlight back out of his bag after he'd tossed it in just minutes earlier, but he didn't have time.

He whirled back around and raced towards where a horrible assemblage of noises was still sounding. When glass shattered and this time, all three of the teens at the front of the shop screamed. Miles put on a desperate burst of speed, trying to find his way through the maze of isles to get to where the clamour was coming from.

When Miles arrived, the scene unfolded quickly before his eyes. Bronte, pinned against a wall by a woman he couldn't identify. Altered. Aaron, shakily lifting his bat and trying to get close enough to swing it. Kano, heaving himself up painfully from a pile of shattered glass. He was bleeding.

"Go!" shrieked Bronte, and Miles realised that's what she'd been screaming all along. She was kicking frantically at a woman who was repeatedly shoving her against the wall, creating a sickening thud every time. When Bronte's wild eyes found Miles she screamed again, "Everybody get-" she broke off when the woman swung her against the counter, and her body cracked against the glass countertop. She let out a horrible cough and crumpled to the floor.

Miles started to back away. "We need to get out!" he called, to everybody who would listen. Mostly to Kano and Aaron and least to the Altered woman, who was bending down to grab Bronte again.

Bronte yelled, words broken, "I'll catch up!" Miles knew she wouldn't catch up. "Just go!"

Aaron took a step towards Miles. Kano took a step towards Bronte. "Get out!" she screeched before she was grabbed again.

Kano didn't wait for the question to be repeated. He raced towards Miles and Aaron did the same, and together the three of them raced back towards the window.

Miles felt physically sick.

Selfish selfish selfish, a voice chanted over in his head. He almost ran straight into a shelf that was so obviously in sight, for his unsettling thoughts were enough to disorient him.

Bronte didn't scream again, and Miles couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

"Get the bags," he called breathlessly to Kano and Aaron, who were ahead of him. Immediately, the pair skidded to a halt before they dove out the window and snatched up everything they could in three seconds.

Miles grabbed the one remaining thing - the backpack - before he followed Kano and Aaron out the window.

They didn't stop running.

"Go back the way we came," puffed Miles, though that was a no-brainer. He tugged on the backpack as he ran, ignoring the agony that shot through him when he pulled the bag onto both shoulders, his wound grazing against the harsh fabric through his shirt.

The three boys ran as fast as their legs could carry them - faster, probably, with adrenaline working its magic on them. They ran behind the buildings they'd used as cover to get to the shop, bags in their hands.

Aaron was stumbling. He started to slow.

"No," was all Miles said as he grabbed Aaron's hand and kept running, dragging the surprised, wounded boy behind him.

He knew it was probably hurting Aaron - but the minute he slowed was the minute he also became a target for any Altered that saw.

The three boys ran and ran and ran.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes without daring to slow down. At this pace, they made it away from the city quickly, but their desperation couldn't keep them running forever.

Bronte didn't catch up.

It could have been Miles. It could have been anybody. But the Altered woman had found Bronte first; it had been nothing but luck.

Miles was lucky to be alive.

Somewhere along the line, Miles dropped Aaron's hand. It was to his own surprise that he almost missed the feeling of Aaron's hand in his own immediately - it felt safer when he was holding a real, tangible thing.

They ran.

They ran.

They ran.

They stopped.

Kano slowed first, then Miles, then Aaron. They'd been following the direction back to the treehouse to some extent, but Miles didn't even think about where they were as they stopped moving. They were on a desolate sidewalk lined with battered shopfronts. Somebody - a group of people, most likely - had been through here recently, but right now it was completely empty.

Miles was thankful for that, because his body was starting to catch up with his actions and the run was taxing on his energy levels, especially when a backpack had been bouncing around on his back the whole time.

The first thing everybody did when they stopped was toss what was in their hands down. This was, for Kano and Aaron, bags, and for Miles it was his knife. It had been dangerous to carry the thing while they'd been so recklessly running, but he hadn't had a bag in his hand to put it in like Aaron or Kano.

He slid his backpack off and fished through it in search of the silicone knife covers. All three of them were breathing heavily, swaying, trying to process what had just happened.

Suddenly, Kano started to cry.

It was a sniffle at first as he pulled the knife from a bag and passed it to Miles. Then Miles noticed Kano's cheeks flushing and tears starting to streak down them.

Miles had been able to tell how close Kano and Bronte had been - it would have been as hard for him to lose her as it had been for Miles to lose Harvey.

Aaron dropped his knife on the ground and immediately wrapped his arms around Kano, something Miles hadn't even thought to do. Kano started sobbing, burying his face into Aaron's shoulder and clinging to him tight.

Aaron started to cry, too. Not as violently as Kano. It was just silent tears tumbling down his cheeks and eyes scrunched shut.

Miles stared at the two fifteen-year-olds as they cried until he realised that tears were falling from his own eyes, too.

He was not meant to cry. Not in front of people. Not at all.

It wasn't about Bronte. It was about everything. Miles turned away, mind flooding with images of Harvey's body, of the two bodies he'd found in that house, of the man Lia had killed without hesitation. His ears rang with Bronte's screams. His heart raced with the reminder that his friends, his family, were all affected by this, too.

The world, Miles realised, was ending.

So there stood three boys, on a deserted sidewalk, letting tears fall as they wordlessly remained unmoving. Miles didn't want to cry. He told himself to stop. He told himself that it was such a silly thing, crying when for so long he'd been the one who couldn't care less about anything.

Building a wall around his emotions grew tiring.

Whoever had said that boys don't cry was fucking wrong.

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+1288 Words.