Followers of the Light

Chapter 8 - Forty-Three Hours Past the End (12 PM)

"The sane one's dead. The insane ones live." Grote said.

"If the insane ones didn't live. The sane ones would have died by natural cause." I said.

"I-I don't get it," Jorne responded to both of us with his usual blank blurry expression and flat tone. "Who are these sane and insane people? Not everyone is bad."

Both I and Grote looked at him in cringe. No idea what to say anymore.

Unlike what Cornelis suggested, we eventually headed towards the city central instead. I mean, it was Grote's idea and we had nowhere better to go. Surprisingly, the street had been cleaned out of bodies, though the smell of blood still persisted. Jorne covered nose with his hand, but at least he did not whine.

Suddenly, a group of people were running out of an alley from our right. There were at least eight people, men and women, all dirty, running in panic. "Run!" said them when they saw us. Without thinking much, we turned around and followed their direction before another group of people came out of the alleys on our left.

"That's them!" yelled one of them, none other than the Tumbleweads, pointing at us with his machete

"We have to fight our way out of here!" said the leading man in front of me.

"Fuck this shit!" Grote pulled out his knife. "Redhea! Jorne! Stay close!"

They began fighting each other. From kitchen knives to rakes, the sound of steel clanking and death cries colored that battle. Blood splashing everywhere, people fell one by one. Meanwhile, three of us there were trying to make our way out from the chaos with Grote leading the way. All of sudden, Jorne grabbed my arm and calling for help. It turned out someone carrying an axe was holding on his backpack. Furiously pulling, Jorne's bag slipped off his right shoulder. Seeing the Tumblewead lost balance, I used that moment to kick the axe holder's gut. He fell on his ass. I took his hand axe and stomped his face. As soon as I lifted my foot off that bloody smug, another one was coming at us from behind. Reflex came quick; I swung the hand axe and accidentally chopped his head through his left cheek, down to his nose. The axe stuck on his flesh, I had to let it fall with him. When I bent to pick his dropped machete up, I saw someone behind charging towards me. Panicked, I swung that machete around – a bit too hard that it slipped off my grip and bull's-eyed on his face. When he fell, I saw Grote pulled out his knife out of someone's stomach. He looked over the dead bodies over his shoulder, then gave a thumb-up. I did good, I guess... Jorne was still crumpled on the ground frightened in the meantime, refusing to stand up as I told him to. So I had to grab his collars to get back up to run. We rushed our way out as soon as Jorne got back on his feet, only to find ourselves another group of rabid Tumblewead. Grote swiftly sheathed his knife back on strapped on his belt on the left and raised both of his hands.

"Have mercy! Have mercy!" Grote shouted out loud at the crowd we ran into. "We are innocent! We are just passing through!"

They ignored Grote, but when one of them saw me, they told their friends, "Woman here! There's a woman here!" You know from the way they shouted, that was not good. Some of them started taking me into the crowd. Grote moved in between to block their way. "Get off!" he said. Ignored, he punched and kicked a few of them. "I said get off!" shouted Grote.

Of course, that was not welcome. They hit him back and then I had to take a painful one too in the stomach. With that pain still spiraling down my stomach, they pushed us into their truck. Then wrapped black cloths over our faces. I could not see anything; only Grote's grunts from getting punched as the truck trembled and drove away to its destination.

Someone also punched me in the face and pushed my head against the wall. "Stop damaging the goods!" one of them said. Just when I thought they at least stopped hurting me, somebody grabbed my right arm and injected something there. Shortly, the pain from the injection and the injuries dispersed. My head felt heavy, cold sweat drenched my face, my hearing went muffled. The numbness spread from all over my skin. I took deep breaths to prevent myself from passing out, but I lost to it.