"She can't be too far. We weren't that far from the caravan when we left her," Eight-ball grumbles as we trudge through the bushes. "Damn it, I could have sworn she was right around here..."
He trails off as he pushes a few tree branches out of the way, a slow smile pulling at his lips when he sees a frowning Bridge sitting against the tree.
"Well, speak of the devil. Here. Give me your hand."
"Took you long enough to get here," She grouses as he helps her stand. She has to lean against him to keep pressure off of her leg, which she's wrapped her jacket around to slow the bleeding. "The caravan okay?"
I nod proudly. "Oh, yeah. We were able to get there in time to warn everybody. Eight shot that punk ass bandit leader that was gonna let one of his crew members eat me."
"Serves him right," Eight agrees. "But yeah, we got there in time. Mia took lead and ordered everyone around."
Bridge chuckles. "She's good at that. And it looks like we've got everything wrapped up and can continue moving." Her smile fades, which immediately strikes worry through me. "There's just one thing that bothers me."
"M'yeah, what's that?"
"Well, you saw the guys that attacked us, right? Ripped clothes, pathetic armor, only a few guns."
Eight looks at me in confusion, then back to her. "Yeah, so? I mean, you're gonna comment on their bad fashion sense?"
She scoffs. "Well, look. I mean, come on. How-how do people like that afford something like zom attractant? That stuff's expensive, and it didn't even really work."
"Maybe they traded their clothes for it," He replies sarcastically, and I snicker. Bridge scowls at the both of us.
"And how did Arc suspect something like that in the first place? If you ask me, it seems like something's up."
I suck on the inside of my cheek, not stupid enough to chew lest I cut my mouth open. She does have a point there. My dad taught me a lot of things before I ran off. Or at least, he tried to. Being a Remnant I didn't inherit his near perfect memory, but I tried to remember what he taught me, just in case it came in handy. Zom attractant wasn't something I was ever well versed in, and while it may be due to my inexperience, Bridge and Eight-ball didn't recognize it either.
But Arc... she suspected and confirmed it right away.
Eight-ball shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah. I mean, maybe. We're just mercs, right? I mean, that's-that's what you're always tellin' us. We don't ask the reason. We just do the job."
She looks like she wants to argue, but then she sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Let's get back. We still have a job to do."
He clicks his tongue and glances at me. "You hear that? Come on, Rookie. Let's get back. There's still work to do. Yay."
I really shouldn't find his sarcasm as endearing as I do, which is why I try to hide the smile that etches across my face. My attention quickly turns to Bridge when she tries to take a step forward and winces.
"I can carry you if you want," I suggest, probably a bit too eagerly. "I know I can do it. Used to have to carry my brothers all the time when they hurt themselves at home."
Bridge shakes her head. "No, don't. Don't want you hurting that arm any worse."
I look at my arm and the puncture wounds left by the Semper Mort. The bleeding's mostly stopped now, with the dried blood streaks starting to flake off bit by bit. "But I'm fine-"
"It's alright. I've got it," Eight-ball interrupts, picking Bridge up himself. He doesn't notice the frustrated look on my face, or the way my shoulders scrunch up to my ears. I know better than to argue. It won't get me anywhere and it'll just make me look even more inexperienced.
YOU ARE READING
Dystopia Rising
Science FictionThe world ended long ago, riddled with plague and zombies and destruction. But humanity survived, and humanity evolved. The Infection that helped bring the world to its knees also changed humans in ways to help them keep living in this now broken wo...