|
|
|
Chapter 3. Moving Out
It had only been moments, but in the time I was looking around for ammo and anymore food, the kid seemed to have slowly calmed down. Knowing that someone wasn't a zombie would do that to a person. But then again, he was getting a little too at ease for my liking. I could feel the blue-eyed stare against my back as I shuffled through boxes.
“So, what brings you here?” he asked, smiling mischeviously. I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh. “It's not everyday that I see a new face as pretty as your's.” I couldn't help the chuckle I let slip as I glanced back at him with a disapproving look.
“Seriosuly? What are you, fourteen?”
“Eighteen actually.”
“Twenty-three,” I immediantly answer.
“Damn it.”
It became silent once again except for the sound of him shuffling his sneakers on the floor and be digging through yet another box. To my luck I found a losely assembled but still working pipe bomb. I stuffed it into my back pocket before the guy started talking again.
"Hey, what's your name?" Come to realize it I had totally forgotten to introduce myself in the time I spent here. I stopped digging and actually thought about my name. It had been so long since I've heard anyone say it.
"Kova. Kova Roberts." Yeah, that was my name. I even kind of smiled saying it outloud. I finall got up and took a seat on an upturned crate and looked at him. "What about you?" I asked as he patted some imaginary dust from his shirt. "Daniel Shepard. Just call me Dan."
“Just call me Kova and you've got a deal.” I reached out my hand and for a second he just looked at it. But he soon returned the favor and shook it. He smiled. Now that I had settled down and just sat there, my eyes returned to his spattered clothes and ripped jeans.
“So, you've looked like you survived through a lot,” I gestured to hise clothes. He just nodded. But then I pointed to the guns on the table and the AK-47 that he was pointing at me earlier. Each one was covered in dust. “How did you manage this long without firing shooting anything?” He looked at me.
“I pointed that gun at you. How did you know I've never shot anyone?” I smiled a little to myself. “Because the way you were holding 'that gun'. One, your safety was still on and two, your hand was holding the muzzle instead of the grip." If he had the misfortune to actually pull that trigger, he would have burned his hand to shreds. But back to the point I was curious about. "So, how does a kid like you, no trigger-finger, end up here safetly when there's a mob of zombies just outside?"
“I'm not a kid. A couple of weirdos I was travelling with rested here. Then they just left without even telling me. When I woke up, it was empty and quiet." I listened, feeling a little bad for the guy. That must have sucked. "But the question on my mind is why are you here?"I looked up at him, surprised that I almost forgot why I was here.
“I’m... Looking for some friends. We split up because of a horde attack. We told each other that we would meet at my old house on the other side of the city.” I stood up from my make shift seat and dusted my pants off, gathering my stuff. I didn't look at him just in case he thought I was crazy for even believing that they were still alive. “Well, its about time for me to get moving.” The recognition that I almost forgot why I was here made me uneasy.
As I headed to the door and reached out to open it, his hand grabbed my arm. I jumped, startled out of my wits, finger on the trigger of the uzi before remembering that it was only Daniel. I glared at his hand on my arm before looking back to him. "What?"
“Uh, its just- Well, I didn't even get your number." I stared at him dumbfoundedly until realizing that he was joking. But then looking at the desperation in his eyes, I dreaded the next words that I knew he would say. “Can I come with you?” I closed my eyes and frowned, looking back at the iron door.
“It's not like I don't want you to follow but... It's just too much of a risk.” Staying here was just as dangerous but at least I didn't have to worry about it. I had already lost someone close to me that was around his age. I just didn't want to go through that again. He’s eighteen, he can take care of himself... Yet looking at him, I felt guilty at the thought of just leaving him here.
“You can't even fire a gun.” I shrugged off his hand and shifted the wrought iron that secured the door in place. Again, his hand shot out and stopped it from moving.
"I can learn." I felt my patience and resolve thinning. I felt bad for Dan. I needed the help, didn't I? And it wouldn't hurt so much to have someone to talk to. ...But then I remembered Sougo. Oh, God, Sougo... I took one more look at him. Could I really leave Daniel here with a clear conscience? I caved.
“Fine. Grab a gun.”
 SikFox · Wed Feb 25, 2009 @ 06:10pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
