Our steps are quiet as Eight-ball and I walk ahead of the caravan. It's similar to how it was a few days ago, with the both of us just moving along, me watching Eight as he moves almost too fluidly around any bumps in the road.
"I think I could get used to havin' you as company, Princess," Eight-ball states, and I tsk. He still hasn't dropped that stupid nickname. "Just you, me, the open road. Caravan at our backs; zombies, Raiders, who knows what ahead. Life of a mercenary, aye?"
"Wouldn't have it any other way," I respond. "Especially with me accompanying you. For your sake more than mine. You'd probably get bored without me."
"I've found plenty of ways to keep myself entertained when I'm alone."
"None of them were as great as me though."
He huffs a laugh, looking both amused and slightly bewildered. "I'd agree if I didn't think it would skyrocket your ego."
I make a sad face. "What's wrong with stroking my ego every once in a while? I'm pretty sure I've stroked yours every day since we've met."
He cocks a brow. "Oh, really? How?"
I pause and look at him, wondering if this is one of those rhetorical questions, and he just wants me to answer for flirting's sake. His expectant look doesn't fade, and I scoff at him.
"No. There's no way you don't... there's no way you don't know."
"Don't know what?" He asks the question so genuinely I choke. He must be toying with me, right? I've been so obvious! The only way I could be any more obvious would be just blurting it out, and oddly enough, that makes my face heat up.
I can shamelessly flirt, but actually admitting it-admitting feelings. Oh, that's a whole different ballgame.
"Don't know what, Princess?" Eight-ball asks again, and-oh, he's stopped walking now and has ahold of my arm. When did he get so close?
I try to swallow but my mouth suddenly feels dry. Eight looks at me expectantly, lips twitching into a smirk because even if he doesn't know-which he has to know! He's not stupid-he knows he's got me in a tight spot and now I'm flustered.
"I... I-I um-"
"Hey, wait up!"
We both snap our gazes down the road, just barely spotting a figure coming towards us. Eight-ball's blue eyes are ice cold as he glares at the approaching figure. His face changes in realization and he groans.
"Oh, shit," He murmurs, then takes a small step away from me, allowing me to feel like I can actually breathe because holy shit... "Look. It's Riptire."
The large man makes it towards us, lips pulling back to reveal rows of straight teeth besides one chipped tooth near the back. The Diesel Jock still has oil stains on his fingers, long dried with an even longer wait time of finally leaving his skin.
"Glad I caught you," He says, his voice deep and raspy around the edges. "Bridge asked me to come. Said you might need some backup."
Eight deadpans at him. "Yeah, well, me and the princess can handle ourselves. It's just a little scouting."
"Oh, I know that, sweetheart, but with the whole zom-attractant thing-well, Bridge is a bit on edge."
"Great. She planning on havin' someone babysitting me every time I go out?"
Riptire shrugs. "Sure looks like it."
His jaw clenches. "Well, remind me to keep an eye out for you later when I'm takin' a wizz."
He raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, don't get mad at me. And if it makes ya feel any better, Bridge wants me to look after the rookie just as much as she wants me to look after you."
I sputter in shock, my jaw dropping. "M-Me?! What did I do? Did I do something? I-If this is because of what happened a few days ago-"
"Calm down," He interrupts. "Bridge and just about every other crew member adores you."
That... doesn't make me feel better.
"She just thinks you need supervision around Eight-ball. Says you get distracted by him."
My face burns. God, I knew I was being obvious with my flirting, but I didn't realize I was being that obvious. No wonder Bridge thinks I'm a novice!
I try to sputter out a reply, but it comes out so garbled I can't even really consider it speech. From the corner of my eye, I can see Eight-ball looking down at his feet, trying oh so hard to hide his shit-eating grin because of course he'd be loving this.
"You asked how I stroke your ego every day," I mumble, pressing my hands over my eyes. "Here's an example."
I can feel his grin get wider. Smug bastard.
"So, where're ya headed?" Riptire asks, and I lower my hands as we start walking again. I refuse to look at Eight-ball as he answers.
"Well, Bridge asked us to scout the west. She got a tip from a traveler that there might be some Raiders up that way. Supposed to take a look and clear 'em out."
"Raiders, huh? Better go prepared." Riptire unzips the bag he's got over his shoulder, and I finally look up, only to flinch back when I see just what's in the bag. Eight-ball looks just as alarmed, judging by the way his entire body has gone tense.
"Hey, uh... Riptire." He speaks slowly, worriedly. "Whatcha... whatcha playin' with there?"
"Oh, these? Oh, they're nothing," He answers smugly.
Eight-ball's voice is strained. "Oh, because uh, they're looking an awful lot like a bunch of grenades."
Riptire laughs. "Maybe."
He still looks terrified as he grabs my wrist. "Okay. Well, you know what? Not going to ask." He shoots me a look to tell me that I'm not going to ask either. "Just don't set them off when I'm in range. Come on, Princess."
He pulls me forward with Riptire trailing a few steps behind. We only stay on the road for a few more minutes before venturing off. It's not easy traipsing through the bushes, especially when I have to keep up with Eight-ball. It's mostly him dragging me along as I try not to stumble.
Riptire hisses as he gets nicked by a thorn bush. The scratch will be gone in a few hours, but it's still a pain to deal with. Eight continues looking around for any signs of danger. There isn't anything for a good few minutes, and I wonder if that traveler Bridge got that tip from was lying. It wouldn't be the first time people lied about what's ahead. Sometimes they don't even do it to gain anything. They just like to be assholes.
"Any reason why we didn't take the road?" Riptire complains after a few more minutes of walking. "I keep getting caught in all these damn thorns."
"When have you ever known a Raider to build a camp next to a road?"
"There's always a first time."
Eight-ball rolls his eyes. "There's also a reason why I'm the scout and you're the mechanic."
"You know, you sound a lot like Bridge when you're irritated."
He bristles. "Well, you know, I sound a lot like me when I'm irritated. Now would you just shut up-"
He stops when he noticed I'm frozen to my spot, my breath caught in my chest.
"I think I heard something," I whisper jerking my head towards the direction, and he nods, softening his steps as we all move forward, towards where I heard the faint noise.
We crouch a bit, trying to stay low to the ground as we peek around some of the trees and bushes. It's then we see them-people dressed in thick leathers that are blood and dirt stained. One bites through a hunk of raw meat, blood dripping down his chin and neck.
I shudder.
"What in the..." Riptire trails off, and Eight-ball opens his mouth in surprise.
"Oh, you've never seen a Raider camp before."
"Well, like you said-you're the scout, I'm the mechanic."
Another Raider rips a chunk of flesh from bone, nearly choking as she tries to scarf it down. Riptire's eyes widen and his face twists.
"Ugh. Is that... that bone looks like... Are they-"
"Yeah," I answer. "Looks like they've ambushed a few people. Doubt Mortis Amaranthine will be able to bring back that guy. Doesn't look like there's enough of him left to be stitched back together."
Eight narrows his eyes. "I've seen Raiders eat a whole caravan before. That's the Bad Brain Disease, makes Raiders want to eat people."
Raiders are different than zoms and the Gorger lineage, even though they share the trait of being cannibals. Gorger strains are born like this, with either a flesh or blood hunger, and zoms are what everyone will eventually become once their bodies run out of Infection. Raiders became Raiders because they got Bad Brain Disease, which makes the infected individual violent, develop flesh hunger, and lose the ability to speak. The biggest difference between a Raider and the other two, is that this disease will eventually kill them, and once they die, Mortis Amaranthine cures them. When they come back, they'll be human again.
Of course, there are more violent variants of the disease, like the parasitic forms which won't cure the disease when you return from the dead, but that's rare and not common around these parts, thankfully. Still, it's best to keep from being infected all together, since treatment for it is taxing on the body and the stages between being an infected human and becoming a Raider are short.
We just have to make sure we don't get bitten and we'll be just fine.
"Poor bastards," Riptire says, before his eyes light up. "Hey, you want me to blast 'em? I made up this really nice, new explosive that I think would just get them all-"
"Hey, no, no!" Eight whispers harshly. "Riptire, no! I'm the scout here, okay? Just let me and the princess check it out first. You just hang tight."
He huffs, shoulders slumping a bit in disappointment. "Alright. Just holler if you need me."
"Oh, yeah, we will do that." I don't miss the slight bite in his tone. "Come on, Princess. We'll sneak around to the side of 'em. Run."
•
The Raiders around us grumble as their teeth sink into the flesh and muscle of their catch. I can smell the blood from here, thick and metallic. It takes a lot of effort to keep from gagging.
"Okay, keep close," Eight-ball whispers. "And stay upwind. I've heard Raiders can smell people if they get too close."
I nod quickly, grabbing my gun from the holster on my hip, only pausing when I notice some movement near the base of a tree near the Raiders' camp. The squirming movement causes me to gasp a bit as I lean closer to get a better view.
"Look," I whisper. "It looks like one of the people the Raiders caught is still alive. They've tied him up." I hum in surprise. "Honestly didn't think Raiders had enough self-restraint to tie people up instead of outright killin' them."
"Oh, no, no, no!" The captive man jerks when he thinks one of the Raiders is looking at him. "Please, please don't. I-I just-I'm sorry. Please."
I look at Eight, and he's looking at the captive with furrowed brows. "Hang on. That looks like..." He shakes his head. "No, no, no. Never mind. That can't be."
"We're not just going to leave him, are we?" I ask, and he sighs and hangs his head.
"I guess we've gotta save him before we clear the Raiders out... Okay, here's the plan. You run in and grab the guy, and I'll cause a distraction. Okay?"
"Uh-"
"Okay. Now get a move on, Princess. I'm goin' in."
My eyes widen. "W-wait-"
It's too late. Eight-ball's already jumped out from behind the tree while I duck down. He raises his gun in the air and fires, causing every head to snap towards him.
"Hey! Hey!" He yells before turning on his heel and running off, firing his gun again and singing the National Anthem really, really off-key. The Raiders all run after him, their eyes filled with rage as they trample through the bushes. I don't think any of them are Natural Ones, so they'll not be able to move as swiftly as Eight. He'll be okay.
Once I'm sure the coast is clear, I head into the camp, towards the captive. With how he's tied to the tree, he can't see me clearly, so he starts squirming against his bonds in fear.
"No, no, no! Don't-don't hurt me!" He shouts, and I shush him.
"Be quiet!" I hiss. "Do you want us to get caught?"
"Oh, hi," The brunet says stupidly. "You're-you're a person. You're not... not one of those things."
"Nope," I reply, pulling out my pocketknife and cutting at the ropes. "Have you been bitten? Any open wounds that might have come into contact with Raider blood or saliva?"
"N-No, they just-one of them had a knife when they attacked. Stabbed me in the leg. I need some help walking. You're going to help me get out of here, right? Because-because they'll be back."
I look into his hazel eyes with a hum. "Well, I'm not cutting you loose just for the fun of it. But that knife might've had blood on it from a Raider. If you're infected, then you'll still be in the early stages. Our crew has got medics that can give you treatment, just in case."
He looks at me with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in awe. "You are... something."
I laugh. "That's vague. Anyway, give me your arm. I'll help you stand."
I pull him up so he can lean against me. Thankfully he's only a few inches taller than me, so it isn't too awkward.
"Thank you," He says, and I shrug as best I can.
"Don't mention it. Let's just get out of here."
He nods frantically in agreement. "We weren't expecting to find a bunch of Raiders here. We were... well, doesn't matter. Guess we're not going to get paid."
I raise a brow, about to question him as to what that could mean, but I hear movement. At first I think it's Eight-ball, but there's no way he'd be running back here so quickly when there's a chance I could still be here. So I instinctively grab my gun and raise it. There's more rustling, then a figure jumps out of the bushes and screams.
"Watch out!" The stranger yells as a Raider races towards me. I pull the trigger, the loud pop of the gunshot ringing in my ears as pain shoots up my wrist.
I've fired a gun one-handed before, just not this one. And I thought the kickback from my other gun was bad... I curse in pain as the Raider drops dead.
"Nice shot," The man praises as I wince. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just never shot this gun with one hand before. I'll be fine," I say with another wince. "Let's go. My partner can't keep those guys occupied forever."
"Your partner?"
"Partner, friend, guy who's not made a single move despite my blatant flirting. Do you want a list or somethin'?" I ask irritably, and he shakes his head.
"No, no, he just looked like... Oh, never mind. Can't be. Let's go."
I look at him in confusion but trudge on. Odd how Eight-ball said the same thing.
Very odd.
The stranger keeps a tight hold on me as he limps along. I probably could carry him, like I offered to do for Bridge, but I'm not feeling that nice. Plus my worry for Eight-ball is distracting me, causing me to stumble on a couple of roots as we move along. I'd probably end up dropping the guy.
Eight's smart, even if he is reckless and a bit of a show off. I know he'll be fine, but I can't imagine how I'd react if something did happen to him. I know that if he died, he'd come back. But Mortis Amaranthine is not pleasant, and it's not something people want to go through.
It's not something I'd want Eight-ball to go through.
The stranger makes some joke that falls flat, and I sigh.
"No smile from you, huh?"
"Believe me when I say you do not want to see my smile," I reply, and he scoffs.
"If you say so. I'm guessing you'd say the same about me trying to make you laugh?"
"Why would you try to make me laugh?"
"Well, you did save me back there, and I don't really have anything to repay you with, so the least I can do is be entertaining."
That actually gets a chuckle out of me, and I tilt my head to the side. "Actually, if you want to repay me, you could answer a few questions. Like uh, what's your name?"
He bites his lip and sucks in a sharp breath. "Would rather not say, thanks. Uh, you don't have to tell me yours."
"Wasn't planning to. I'm the one who saved you, so I don't owe you anything," I reply. "But you can call me 'Rookie'."
"Rookie? Not a very flattering name."
"Well, I haven't worked my way up to a different one yet with my crew. I... have another one, but it's... kind of stupid."
"More stupid to being referred to as 'Rookie'?"
"Look, they won't call me by my real name and I'm not givin' my real name to a stranger, no matter how charming you're trying to be."
"Trying?" He smiles. "You wound me, Rookie."
"No worse of a wound than what the Raiders did to you."
He lets out a bitter laugh. "No, I suppose not."
Our heads snap up as foliage rustles, and I grab my gun again with bated breath. There's more rustling, the loud breaking of branches that tells me there's no way this is Eight. Even when he's being loud, he doesn't traipse through like this.
I sigh in relief when I see it's Riptire.
"Oh, it's you," I say with a small smile, although he huffs at me.
"Was wonderin' where you were, Rookie. Where's Eight-ball? And who's this?"
The stranger looks at me with wide eyes. "Eight-ball? The guy that was with you is named Eight-ball?"
"Well, yeah," I answer. "I mean, that's what we call him. Real names aren't technically allowed-"
"Who the hell are you?" Riptire asks, glaring at the man who's still leaning against me. He's ignored.
"I thought that guy was dead. He should be dead. Why isn't he dead?"
The way he asks those questions makes me let him go, and he hisses when he has to put pressure on his leg before leaning against a tree. I take a large step away from him.
"Wait a damn minute there," I growl, my brows knitting together. "What do you mean 'He should be dead?' You wanting to hurt my Eight?"
"I didn't know he was alive to want to hurt him," He replies, and Riptire takes a step forward.
"That still doesn't answer my question of who you are," He says, and the nameless man sighs.
"Look, Eight-ball ended up sacrificing himself. He's probably Raider food by this point. No point in getting yourself killed too."
Riptire sneers at him. "Sure there is. No man left behind. That's what I always say. And since you're not answering any of my questions, you're coming with us as well."
The stranger's eyes go wide, his jaw dropping. "You're kidding, right? We don't have the fire power to-"
He's cut off when Riptire drops his bag down in front of him.
"What's that? Is that a-"
Riptire unzips the bag and shows him the contents. "Oh, just a few grenades. That enough fire power for you?"
He shrinks back at both of our glares. "I uh, well, I guess."
"Right on then, sweetheart," He spits. "Why don't you take my extra gun and give us some covering fire? We're gonna set some explosives."
"Before you do," I say, holding my hand out to stop the stranger from taking Riptire's gun, "here's something you should remember, friend. If you try to run, or shoot us, or anything like that, I will make damn sure I find you and kill you myself."
I take a step forward and grab him by his shirt, pulling him closer to me. I look up at him, my eyes cold. "And I don't know what you were talking about when you said Eight-ball should be dead, but if you try to hurt him after we save him, I'll make you wish I'd left you with the Raiders."
I push him away from me, turning and walking on. I can feel Riptire's surprised eyes on me. I mean what I said. There's a certain rage set deep in my veins that comes to life when the people I care about are threatened. Unfortunately that is something my dad and I have in common.
I may not have inherited his strain trait, but I did inherit his rage.
"Come on, Riptire. Let's find Eight-ball."
•
I can hear Eight's whooping from here, along with gunshots. It feels like a weight has been taken off my shoulders at the sound of him being not just okay, but still having a fun time.
"Okay," Riptire says gruffly. "We've got Mr. Won't-Tell-Me-Shit positioned in the trees. We've got a bunch of Raiders ahead of us, and unlike Eight-ball, I'm not a scout, which means I'm as subtle as a sack of bricks." He pauses as a Raider screams from being shot. "Now, here's what we do: I'll rig up some explosives, you run in, lure the Raiders, and I'll throw a grenade in at the perfect time to set everything off. Now, let me just..."
He starts rummaging around, fiddling with some of the other stuff he had shoved in that bag of his, mumbling about how everything's got to stay where it's placed. After a few seconds, he lets out a low hum of approval.
"That'll do very nicely." He looks up at me. "Okay, you're on, Rookie. It's all set. Find Eight-ball and run. I'll be at a safe distance when you get back."
With a nod, I jump out and start running. I stay close to the bushes, since I know if Eight sees me running towards him, he may mistake me for a Raider and shoot me, and if I died... well, he'd have hell to pay for when I came back.
I spot him heading this way, and he's got massive distance between him and the Raiders. I think if he actually was quiet and stopped firing at them, he'd be able to get away safely without us. But that's not how he is.
I hide behind a few trees that are closer together, fondly smiling when Eight lets out another cheer.
"Sorry, to spoil the party, boys, but I can't stay for dinner." He twists and fires his gun. "Boom! Headshot! Now stay back or I'll-"
As he runs by, I reach out and grab his arm, pulling him to me and spinning to push his back against the tree. He lets out a little 'oof' in surprise, his eyes wide in alarm until he sees my face.
"Oh, uh, Princess. What the hell are you doin' here?"
"You didn't think I was just going to leave you, did you? I like you a bit too much to let you be chased down by Raiders."
"Just a bit? Looks like I'm goin' to have to step up my game," He flirts. "Well, never mind. You see that big, ugly Raider in the front? Well, I'm going to give him a headache he ain't going to wake up from. Then we're gonna charge straight through it out? Ready?"
He starts to move, but my grip tightens on his arms, and I slam him back into the tree. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to get his attention.
"No," I clip, and he looks down at me with surprise. "We have a plan already. Just follow me, and we'll lead them to where the Raiders need to be. If you wanna shoot some of 'em, that's fine. But you're followin' my lead this time, got it?"
Eight-ball looks bewildered, and a little breathless. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now let's go."
He grabs my wrist and lets me lead him as we jump out from behind the trees. I give Eight my gun because it has more bullets, and he starts firing. He's able to fire it one-handed a lot easier than I can. He's got this glint in his eye, a love for the thrill. It's so uniquely him and uniquely amazing.
"Eight-ball, Rookie!" Riptire calls out, and I push myself to run faster. "This way! To me!"
We keep running, my legs beginning to burn. There's only a few seconds' pause before he shouts again.
"Fire in the hole!"
A second later an explosion shakes the ground, the force of it sending me and Eight-ball flying forward. I slam into the dirt, and all I can hear for a good few seconds is high pitched ringing.
I groan and push myself up, blunt soreness overtaking the front of my body as Riptire coughs and laughs. Once I get to my feet, I stumble over to Eight, helping him up from his hands and knees as he coughs and groans.
"Oh, my God. My damn ears." He looks up and glares at Riptire, who steps away from where he was in the trees. "What's the matter with you, boy? You compensatin' for somethin'?"
"What? It got the job done, didn't it? And you broke rule number one. Never try and be a big damn hero."
I rub the back of my neck. "Actually... that was my fault. I was the one who asked to save the..."
I trail off when our rescued stranger limps through the bushes. He looks at the blasted remains of the Raiders, already decaying and being absorbed into the ground. It's so odd how fast they decay. "Hey, you got 'em. Could've sworn you were done for."
"No thanks to you." Riptire sends him a nasty look as Eight and I get closer to the two. "Where was that covering fire I asked for?"
"I, uh-"
"Hey now," Eight says, cocking his head to the side. "I think I know you from somewhere."
Riptire raises a brow at him. "I was just about to ask you about him. Hasn't told us his name. Seems to know yours pretty well."
He's quiet for a moment. "Yeah, well, come to think of it, as I take a look at him, yeah. I might have known him... back in the day, before I joined up with Bridge and you all."
"Do I sense a story?" I ask excitedly, and he snickers.
"You are insatiable, aren't you?"
I don't get to answer before our stranger speaks again, his voice dripping in anger.
"You. You know exactly who I am. You should be dead, you son of a-"
"Hey now. No more words. You've got no ground here, especially with what I found. You see, I went back to that campground, just to make sure Princess had gotten out of there okay. And while I was there, I noticed there was a lot of stuff around from the people the Raiders had eaten. Clothes, shoes, papers."
He tenses. "Papers?"
Eight nods. "Oh, yeah. Papers. Picked up a few 'cause I was curious. Found one that looks like a contract to attack the New Reach Caravan, which just so happens to be the one we're guarding." He glares at him. "Now you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"Look, nothing personal. You know how it is. Or at least, you should know how it is."
"You," Riptire grits out. "We helped you. I'm gonna show you how it is."
"Riptire, hold," Eight says before the burly man can rip our stranger to shreds. "We should take the guy back to Bridge. Find a way to get some information out of him. Hell, maybe he's connected to the earlier attack."
He grunts. "Yeah, yeah."
The stranger looks worried now. "Eight-ball, if you let them take me, I'll tell them all about-"
He's cut off when Eight-ball punches him, hard. He falls to the ground, and I look at Eight-ball in shock...
And slight arousal.
"You shut your mouth," The blond says with a stone-cold look. "You'll have plenty of time to talk later. Princess, grab him, will ya? Let's go."
A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It is dedicated to Blank1234567
Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!