For Nate, the world was once a nice and friendly place, at least until they came. The Bobbies. No one knows how it started. One day their loved ones turned on them, devouring them like an eight-course meal. The reason for this remains unknown, and n...
Author's Note: Big Thanks to _Foxicious for crediting my new author signature. She honestly does some of the best graphics. This chapter is a little late but I'm a college student with a job so it'll happen sometimes though I will be updating this Friday as planned. On to the story :)
Marcus
I press down on the punctures in my neck while staring down at the Kid. A knife lies between us, resting on top of the black blood being soaked into the ground — I wish I could say I'm surprised the little prick took a chomp out of me. I take a step forward, and he awkwardly crawls with one hand, the other mirroring my own position.
"Everything okay over?" a voice calls out. Quickly I stomp over to the Kid, ignore his wide glazed over eyes, and proceed to lie my ass off.
"Of course, Sir. Thanks for your concern. We just a little... carried away if you know what I mean," I say. A dark expression crosses the man's face at what I implied but wisely keeps his mouth. He seems to turn away but not before eyeing the black on the ground. I watch him go and groan when I see him making a grab for the walkie-talkie attached to his hip.
Running up behind him, I yank my gun free from my holster and hit the back of his head. He crumbles like a wet piece of paper, and I shake my head at his apparent weakness. Turning back to the Kid, I have to keep from swearing at every deity as I see him trying to subtly creep away into the shadows.
Stomping his way, I grab him by the ankle and drag the literal pain in the neck to the car. I pick him up by the shoulder and make sure not to scrunch my face up at his apparent weightless. He's never seemed bulky, but he doesn't seem to have any meat on his bones. Just another issue for me to correct, I suppose. Fuck the things my subconscious makes me do. He yanks his head up and tries to chomp down on my arm.
"You fucking bite me again tonight, and I swear to everything holy, a bullet will be going in between your eyeballs," I fiercely tell him. "Capisce Kid?"
Gripping the Kid by his hair, I push him away from me as I open the car door. I reach inside and have never been more excited to find that my instructions were actually followed from once. Of course, it was Sloth, and despite his outward laziness, he always followed through on his jobs.
Luckily he had gotten out of the NTSCU nearly a year ago right after our eventful meeting with the Kid in the desert. He had planned on staying for the duration of my forced servitude but quickly changed his tune after seeing the Kid and his witch.
Sloth never truly explained it, but he got a haunted look in his eyes and would just mumble how "different" they were. He never explained what he meant, and I knew I wouldn't get any answer that would satisfy me, so I dropped it.
Grabbing the bag that lay under the passenger's seat, I throw it on the ground before pushing the Kid down too.
"Alright, strip," I demand. He looks up with a snarl painted on his face.
"What," he growls. Taking out my gun, I click off the safety before pointing at his head.
"I didn't stutter. Now hop to it," I tell him. He grumbles to himself something about 'always fuckin' strippin". Shaking my head, I grab the rags he had been wearing before throwing them into the back seat. We'll obviously have to burn them, black blood is a dead giveaway even to a complete dumbass, but the city is still too near.
After his little freak out with just the last squallers getting home before curfew, the last thing we need is people getting curious and going out this way. Despite our circulation of fake parties causing the end of the world as we know it, people are still stupid, but what else is new.
"Get in," I demand, once he's dressed. The Kid looks between me and the car before edging into the passenger side. He jerks his head to the side, glaring into the field. I glance that way and see the man pushing himself off the ground. Holding in a sigh, I stalk through the field, hoping the night doesn't add any more complications to our escape.
I reach the man just as he gets to his feet. Backing up a little, I run up and land a foot square on his chest. He hits the grunt, and I title my head, watching him become a hacking mess. The man attempts to crawl away, but where he was going, I'll never know. With a swift kick, I have the man on his back and burn a bullet in the middle of his forehead.
Wincing at the loud ricochet of the gunshot, I pivot back to the car and groan when I spot the passenger door swung wide open. Stomping to the car, I look around for the Kid and let out a breath when he's simply crouched a little bit away.
I walk up to the Kid and am about to pull him up when he jerks to the side, falling flat on his ass. When I try again, he has the nerve to growl at me. Tsk. Knowing we don't have to time for this, I get a tight grasp on his ankle and give it a yank.
Dragging him across the field to the short of the car was easy despite him twisting and raking his fingers through the dirt. Gripping his hair by the roots, I shove him back into the car before slamming the door.
Ignoring the dead body, I hurry to my side just as several ghouls break through the tree line. Pressing on the gas, we speed out of there though I get the visual of the carcass being torn bit by bit in my rearview mirror.
Slumping back in my seat, I ignore the harsh breathing going on beside me. The Kid freaking out was bound to happen better he get it out of his system before getting to the warehouse.
"W-why," he stutters out in the silence. Slumping back in my seat, I think of how to answer that though I doubt anything I say will satisfy his curiosity. Will he want to hear that I merely rescued him because he got stuck in my head? That, despite out of all the shitty things I've done, it was the dead look in his eyes that haunted my dreams? I doubt it.
"Well, why not," I respond. Glancing over and see his teeth snag one of the open wounds on his face. Bleed seeps down his chin and runs down his throat. Keeping my eyes on the road, I reach back and toss back some of the rags he was wearing.
Luckily he gets the message and cleans up the mess before it can ruin the fresh clothes. Shaking my head, I turn my focus back on the road. I ignore the burning sting of his gaze and just watch out for the wandering Terrors.
The night was still young, and we're still a far ways from our destination. Our journey has barely begun, and already I feel exhausted beyond compare. Fuck, when did life get so complicated?
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