Chapter 6-Murder He Wrote
With my aluminium baseball bat slung over my shoulder, I strode out of the school compound, Jami still following me like a cicada. Loud, and goddamn annoying. "Jami, just get the hell outta here!" I hissed, "You're gonna draw in every stinking undead monster in the continental U.S!" She shut up then, looking somewhat scared, and I took my escape. I barrelled towards the shed, and vaulted onto the roof before she even knew I was gone. She looked round, head whipping side to side as she looked for me. "Bradley?!" She seemed pretty worried. I didn't care. I was more than pretty worried about my sister. I decided to troll her, just a little bit, as I propped a wooden plank from the roof to the top of the fence. "Yoo-hoo!" I cried, edging along the two metre stretch of wood. I waved, as her head snapped towards me. I sniggered as she did a double take. "What th- Bradley get down from there!"
"What you gonna do 'bout it if I don't?" I quipped, dangling over the fence, hanging onto the plank as it slowly tipped under my weight, gradually lowering me to the ground. It gave up with an abrupt jolt, just as Jami scrambled onto the roof. "Get back here right now chico!" she demanded, panting a little.
"Oops," I taunted, snapping the board in half like a flower stem, "I don't seem to able to!" I lobbed the two broken halves of the board at her head, laughed as she squealed. I turned then, sure a saw a blonde figure crouched behind a crate of milk, long gone bad, but I ran on anyway, not wanting to draw attention to them. They might be able to help me after all. I knew I would pay for the taunt, but I didn't care. I ran into the night, mind focused on Angelica.
I saw the man run away, just after looking in my direction. I was certain he saw me, but he just went ahead anyway. I seem to have overheard the fact that his sister was trapped somewhere in the middle of the city, and he was going after her. I had done a bit of raiding, and had happened across a loose floorboard in a motel, and lucked upon a cache of food, water, prescription drugs, canned goods, bandages, and a machete, all encased in a study hikers' backpack, complete with bedroll. I waited till the girl had moved back into the school compound, then stood up, hiked the backpack onto the crate I stood next to, and shoved my Swiss Army knife into the depths of my bag, before swinging it over my shoulders, hefted my baseball bat in my right hand, and following the tracks made by the man. I was a lot leaner than him, and a lot fitter too; up ahead I could see him slowing already; but he would definitely win against me going by sheer brute force. I jogged up the path, eyes on the man, as he looked side to side at the intersection. I was 20m behind him, and he still hadn't heard me, though I was making no attempt to be quiet. I had just reached the 7m when he whirled, and with a whistling of air, I was on the ground. How did that happen?! I felt my head, and already a large bump was forming. I looked to my right, and saw a stone the size of a golf ball laying there. I looked back up at the sky, as the man came to stand over me. "What do you want?" he growled, voice a low, bass rumble, resonating from deep inside his chest.
"I want a friend," I panted, head hurting and still in shock from the blow. He cocked his head to the side unsure, then reached a hand down to me. I took it. "Bradley," He said, helping me up.
"Dustin," I replied, shaking his hand, and dusting myself off at the same time. "So where exactly are you headed?"
"There," he said, pointing to a large building on a dusty rise, about a mile from our current position. "Where our parents are. Where all the adults are. Where we get shot on sight. The Town Hall."