The first thing I do is stuff as many packet of biscuits as can fit into my backpack.
It’s stupid and totally random, I know. I guess it’s like a panic reaction or something. Anyway and I stuff and stuff until my backpack can hold no more, and then I sling it over my shoulder and turn to look at Sam, who is clutching his hand and moaning in pain.
“Shit, are you okay?” I exclaim, racing over to him and squatting down. “Did it hurt your hand in any way-”
“I’m okay,” he interrupts my tirade with a shaky smile. “Never better.”
“Oh, that’s damn funny,” I say sarcastically, helping him up. “Let’s wait until your hand really splits open, and don’t you dare blame that on my stitching skills either, because it was you who made me stitch you up even though I am obviously not a doctor-”
“Kayla,” he interrupts again. “Shhh.”
I shut up, flaming red in the cheeks. My eyes follow his gaze all the way to behind the counter, and sucking in a sharp breath, I take a step back.
“Oh god…”
There is a woman slumped behind the counter, still clad in the trademark red and green outfit of seven-eleven store workers. She is obviously dead. Leaning against the cigarette packets stacked up behind, there is nothing remarkable about her, apart from the fact that she is obviously not breathing. Only one, disturbingly eerie thing stands out, inked into her forehead.
An infinity sign. The one I always used in math, a horizontal eight. It is inked, dark as night, into the smooth, pale skin of her forehead like a tattoo.
“Shit,” I hear Sam cuss faintly. “That doesn’t look good.”
“It doesn’t,” I agree weakly, and then the woman sits up.
I let out a scream. Practically crashing through shelves in my hurry to get away from there, I actually trip over a few cans and Sam catches me, pulling me upright. His grip is strong, warm and comforting, but definitely not enough to distract me from the creepy woman who is steadily making her way past the counter.
Some part of my body breaks through the confusion and forces my numb hands to unsheathe my dagger from my pouch, and wield it threateningly. “Stay back.” I warn in a useless effort.
The woman is gone. Now, that creature, that thing, residing in her body is not human, not one ounce, and it is beyond any reasoning or coaxing to get the hell away from me. So I do what is most human-ish.
I scream and run.
Dragging Sam with me, we dash out of the store and out into the street. At first sight, everything seems peaceful, normal, even, what with the empty streets and dozens of parked cars littering the road. Just a slow, Saturday afternoon. That is until you see the armies of people, all with the infinity signs stamped on their foreheads, marching up the road in scarily accurate sync.
Groaning, I steer Sam towards the buildings. Tall, made of stone the color of birch, my eyes instantly make out the good firing spots at the top. Picking one at random, I pull Sam with me into the building.
“Stairs,” he gasps, getting it. We make a run for it. Bursting through the doors we climb up stairs until my lungs ache and my feet scream obscenities at me, but I order my muscles to quit their bitching and just run.
Emerging out into fresh air and bright sunlight, I find myself on the rooftop of a tall building, facing the street where zombies- or things close to them anyway- line the streets, roaring. Screaming. Shouting for blood. Quick as a flash Sam notches an arrow and shoots one of them down.
As I lie there, panting for breath, I see a few figures dart into the building. A rising sense of panic wells up in me as I realize what could happen.
Am I about to die on this rooftop? Hell, no.
“Sam!” I force out through gritted teeth. “We need to barricade the doors!”
Immediately he abandons his shooting and races to help me. We run to the black, metal doors, reaching it the same time the thumping starts on the other side. My god, those zombies are strong. With every hit, dents appear in the rusted metal.
“Leave it,” a female voice commands from behind us. Inhaling sharply, I wheel around just as the banging stops.
“Who are you?” I demand, even though I know full well who she is. Some stupid god. Again.
“Hestia,” she says pleasantly. She is magnificent, practically glittering in the sunlight, swathed in cloth of the most magnificent mahogany. A crown of platinum gold nestles comfortably in her golden hair.
“You,” she says, voice never losing that calmness. Her words are directed at Sam. “You managed to escape me that day.”
Sam doesn’t speak a word. He seems entranced by her voice.
“Come closer, child.”
To my utter horror, Sam takes a step forward. I try to speak out, to warn him, but something is blocking my throat. I cannot even move, and panic seizes me.
Hestia touches a long, slender finger to Sam’s forehead. His whole frame droops, as if wilting like a flower, and then straightens up again with new purpose.
Oh, hell.
He turns towards me and Hestia vanishes, but not without a sly smile at me first. Studying Sam, I realize he is different. His eyes are not glazed over like the others, but there is that horrid infinity mark stamped in swirling ink on his forehead.
Somewhere in those deep brown eyes, I see the real Sam calling for me.
“Sam!” I shout, realizing that I can move and talk. I dart away, but he continues to advance. “Sam!”
He doesn’t reply, but stalks to me and lands a heavy blow to my face. Reeling back from the shock, I taste blood in my mouth. I may have actually bit my tongue.
“Oh my god, Sam,” I exclaim.
He doesn’t say a word. Another heavy punch strikes my face, leaving a nasty bruise. His elbow slams into my stomach, leaving a painful throbbing, and a last kick in the chest sends me sprawling to the ground.
I never knew he was so insanely strong. How rubbish.
Straddling me, Sam pins me to the dusty ground. I get a real look at his beautiful brown eyes, and I see Sam, my Sam, somewhere deep inside, shouting and screaming and fighting.
“Sam,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.”
Not-my-Sam wrenches the dagger from my hands, holds it up high. The blade glints wickedly in the setting sun. It is positioned directly above my heart. Just one plunge, and I promise myself it would all be over soon.
I shut my eyes.
And feel his lips on mine.
I am so shocked that my eyes fly open, only to meet his, wide open and huge and dilated and afraid, and he is- he is kissing me. What the hell? He’d been seconds away from taking my life!
But I couldn’t deny that I didn’t enjoy it.
Poking my tongue into his mouth, I enjoy the taste of him briefly. But then his body stiffens against mine, and I know Not-my-Sam is coming back, so I wrestle the knife from his hands, slips my hand into his pocket and extract the teleporter, and pray to god that I won’t cut too deep.
My legs wrap around his waist, and I press the button the same time I slash his forehead open, leaving a nasty red gash that cuts right through that damned infinity sign.
And we teleport.
I guess we didn’t let the teleporter charge enough because it didn’t exactly get us onto land. The moment I press the button, I find myself spiraling down to earth in the freezing temperatures of the sky, still in exactly the same position except that Sam was unconscious.
“Shit!” I bellow, my words torn away by the howling wind. My fingers pummel the teleport button uselessly- it hasn’t even begun to recharge yet.
This doesn’t make sense. I survived five gods, made it through a whole year by myself- and now I’m going to die?
Apparently not. There is a whistling sound below me and the next thing I know my back thumps into a broad- leather seat?
Groaning as pain shoots through every part of my body, I push Sam off me and settle him on the couch next to me. Rubbing my forehead, I sit up.
We are in a chariot. A real, flying chariot. Made of solid gold, with intricate designs etched onto every surface. It is being driven by a man.
“Uh,” I say, momentarily incapable of speech.
“What?” a voice says defensively. “You don’t expect me to float you down on a cloud, do you?”
“Who are you?”
“A god.”
Immediately, my hackles rise. “Let us out,” I spit out.
“Into thin air?”
He has a point. Groping for my dagger in the seat, I try to keep him preoccupied with conversation.
“Why did you save us?”
Chuckling, the god turns around, greeting me with a handsome, perfectly chiseled face, with dirty blonde hair carefully arranged in stylish spikes all over his head.
He looks about seventeen, and a god in an entirely different sense.
“Like what you see?” he says dryly, not missing my ogling. Shaking my head to clear it, I glare at him, attempting to get myself back on track.
“Why did you save us?” I repeat, hostility lacing my tone.
“Why, Kayla Richards, I’m Apollo, hottest god ever.” He drags out the ‘ever’. “Brother of Miss Atermis, who saved your asses back with Demeter. And now, I’ve saved your asses and you owe me. Relax, I’m just kidding. Anyway, nice to meet you.” He sticks out his hand.
Of course I don’t shake it. This guy might not sound dangerous, but for all I know, he’s just playing with his prey.
Letting out an exasperated sign, Apollo stalks over. Holding my ground, I refuse to budge and instead glare straight at him. Ignoring me, he makes his way to Sam.
“What are you doing?” my voice breaks through the silence.
“Healing,” Apollo replies simply. And he touches Sam, and magic happens.
The cut I inflicted on Sam slowly begins to heal, the flesh knitting itself up. The cut on his arm, originally blackish brown in color, turns dark red, then scarlet, then fades into a pink line. His multiple cuts and bruises fade and disappear, leaving Sam fresh looking, like he’d just bathed.
“I’ll see you at the resistance,” Apollo says, abruptly becoming serious. “The entrance is cut into the side of the mountain. The teleporter will take you there. Make sure you keep out of sight.”
“But- can’t you just bring us there?” I protest weakly.
“I’ll be leading the rest of the gods there, too,” Apollo informs me, rolling his eyes like he couldn’t believe I was that stupid. “Take care.” Giving me a sailor’s salute, he winks and waves his hand, and we disappear.
We are in a small town. There are stores facing rows of houses, with ripped pieces of paper fluttering in the wind taped to the stained glass windows. Thankfully, Sam is conscious.
“Where are we?” he says groggily. “I feel… I feel… heck, I feel fine.”
“That’s because you are fine,” I say awkwardly. Memories of that kiss comes flooding back.
“Really?” he examines himself, eyes growing wide as he sees the clean, unmarked flesh. “Cool. Who did it?”
Stifling a laugh, I say, “Apollo.”
He frowns. “But he’s a g-”
“God, yes,” I finish for him. “And he’s on our side.”
“Did he brainwash you or something?”
“No, Sam.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sam. And did you really think I’d tell you the truth if I was brainwashed?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you kiss me?”
That sudden question catches me off guard, and it is a moment before I reply.
“You kissed me,” I blurt out. I am so sure my face is red as a tomato. To avoid further embarrassment, I start walking down the sidewalk.
Sam catches up with me, brushing dark hair out of his eyes. “I kissed you?”
“Yeah, you did. Don’t believe me?” I snort. “Didn’t think so.”
“No, it’s not that, but…” His voice takes on a teasing tone. “Did you like it?”
My level of embarrassment shoots up a thousand notches. My face isn’t just red anymore- it’s glowing.
“No,” I say adamantly.
“Really?” He did that cool one eyebrow thing. “Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not!”
“Oh, sure,” he says sarcastically. “It isn’t called blushing when your face turns red and your eyes get all shiny and they start darting around-”
“Shut up!” I say, poking him in the chest. “Yeah yeah, so what if I enjoyed it? I’m only a girl, after all.”
“I hope I didn’t lose your trust,” Sam says in a less joking tone. “Or the 13% I had, anyway.”
“You didn’t.”
Sighing contentedly, Sam falls into step beside me. “Have you ever had, like, a boyfriend?”
Now, a smirk grows on my face. I can’t do that cool one eyebrow thing, so instead I let a smile play across my lips as I formulate my answer. Customized for Samuel Jackson. I want to goad him.
“Hmm… maybe.”
Rolling his eyes, he exhales. “Yes or no, Kayla?”
“Why, jealous?” All of a sudden it seems really important to me, whether he is jealous or not. Whether him being, I don’t know, attracted, to me makes a difference. These are stupid thoughts and stupid questions. After all, it is the end of the world, and who’d have time for romance in times like these? Yeah, only poor, misguided Kayla Richards.
Yep, I am pretty sure I’m crushing on Sam.
“I’m not jealous!” he is saying. “I just thought- Well, since you’re so… so…”
Sexy, I substitute in my head. Hot. Beautiful. Scorching. So desirable it makes you want to grab me and kiss me-
“-Straightforward all the time, boys are attracted to that. But I’m definitely not jealous.”
That is a little less than what I was hoping for. Twirling a strand of my hair around my fingers, I realize I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What if Sam doesn’t like me back? You can count on my stupid female hormones to make the attraction grow stronger…And that would just suck.
“Well, where do you want to spend the night?” I say, changing the subject. Sam breathes a sigh of relief.
“That alleyway there would do.”
“There are dozens of houses here, and you pick an alleyway?”
“Well, yeah,” he says defensively. It just makes him look cute. “Staying in those houses seems like disrespect to their owners! And besides, they’re half destroyed.”
I shrugged. “Okay, fine.” We set up camp in a reasonably clean alleyway behind a dumpster and cover ourselves with blankets I packed just in case. Sleep takes me soon, pulling me off into peaceful oblivion.
My mouth is dry as cotton when I wake up, and I take a swig of water to get rid of the bitter taste. Shaking Sam to wake him up, I fold the blankets nicely and stuff them into the backpack, hiking it up on my shoulder.
“Teleporter?” I say expectantly as I hand him a bottle of water. Sam takes it out of his pocket and hands it to me. I wait impatiently for him to drink up before chucking it into my bag and grabbing his arm. Sam shifts slightly closer, for security reasons I guess.
“Ready… go.”
I feel that familiar sickening feeling as we whiz through space and time. I can just barely make up Sam’s silhouette in front, blurred around the edges.
Everything stops- the teleportation is over. Relief floods through me… at least until I realize I am falling.
A scream rises up in my throat, torn from my lips in the whistling wind. It is so embarrassing, what I am screaming. Not a string of expletives, nor is it just mashed up, jumbled words… Just a name. Sam.
I have barely enough time to suck in a gulp of air before I crash into the ocean below.
Ice cold water enters my nostrils and my mouth, rushing into my windpipe and choking the life out of me. I gurgle and struggle as the backpack weighs me down and I have half a mind to shrug it off, but that would mean sacrificing all our supplies. Even I’m not that stupid.
Somehow, my legs manage to propel me to the surface. The top of my red head breaks the surface of the cold water, and I emerge, gasping for air. Cool oxygen rushes into my lungs as I tread water.
My head whips around, scanning for Sam. Where is he? He couldn’t have drowned, could he? He isn’t carrying a backpack, just a bow. The teleporter is with me, I realize, looking down at my hand where I clutched it. I
I have reason to drown. I am carrying heavy things. But that goddamned idjit does not. If he drowns I will travel back to hell and kill him again for leaving me alone. Somewhere in my mind, a rational voice tells me I’m going into hysterics.
Suddenly next to me a head breaks the surface of the water. I yelp but it’s Sam! Composing myself, I try not to let my relief show on my face, and instead I say in a cool tone, “I was beginning to think you’d drowned.”
“Almost,” he chatters. “Let’s get out of here.” We swim, me falling behind a little bit because of everything I’m lugging along.
I claw my way up the bank, shivering in the chilly air. I shrug off the backpack.
“It’s w- wet,” I tell Sam.
“It’ll- d-dry,” he chatters, blowing into his palms for warmth.
There is silence as we take our surroundings in. It’s not an ocean, it’s a lake, with trees decorating every inch of bank as far as the eye can see. The sparkling water looks inviting, but there is something about it, something I can’t quite place…
“Hey, look!” Sam exclaims, eyes fixed on something to my left. “A horse!”
I turn- sure enough, a brown stallion grazes in the grass, with beautiful long legs and a sleek body. I feel a smile creep up my face- at least until I turn back.
“Shit,” I breathe. The water on the surface of the lake is bubbling, like it is being boiled. I see the tip of something golden slowly rising.
It clicks in my mind. “Poseidon,” I yell, grabbing the backpack. It is freakishly heavy from being so wet. “Run, Sam, run!”
We scramble to our feet, but it’s too late.
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Hey people! This is a pretty fast upload in Abigail terms, hope you enjoyed! Exams are coming up and with all my procrastination and stuff, I reallyyyy need to start mugging. Sorry! Uploads might be less frequent but don't worry I won't abandon you. Please vote and comment and fan, and have a good day!
Ps. Please help me promote if you have the time! No matter what I do the reads neverrr go up. Grrr.
xoxoxo Abigail.