Death (Book Two in the Apocalypse Trilogy)

Chapter 6: Paige

Damon darted ahead to retrieve Stephen Hawking. The bird was in bad shape, but he was still alive. If he got to the medical supplies, maybe he could save the injured hawk.

A lone horse began to ride forward from the group, a palomino carrying a figure with a head of blazing red hair. Damon could make out the shape of a bow in the rider’s hand, and clenched his fists in rage.

“How the hell did you survive? I want to know,” Lyon said. “You had your stomach filled with buckshot and the zombies were swarming the building.”

“Well, I don’t see why you can’t know. I was still alive; you must have heard my screaming. I managed to crawl towards my gun, and shot the ones that got close while I crawled up some stairs. I barricaded myself in a room with a first-aid kit, and did my best. I found a radio, and began to broadcast my position.”

The palomino horse was about fifty metres from them, and Damon could see that the rider was female. He turned back to Johnny, interested by his story.

“After a few days, I heard gunshots outside the building, and there were three people, two men and a woman. They fixed me up, and we formed our group, the Hunters.”

“What are you, a douche?” Mike scoffed.

“What?”

“The Hunters? Did you come up with that?”

“The person who did died a while ago. We keep it as a sign of respect.”

“Was he a douche?”

“He was someone who would shoot you in the face as soon as say ‘hi’.”

“I can confirm that,” said a voice from behind them. The red-headed woman had arrived, an arrow ready to shoot.

“This ranga is Paige. She killed Bill, and we’re all lucky she did.”

“I didn’t do it for you and your band of perverts, Johnny. The fucker tried to rape me.” She spoke with a British accent. Damon threw her the darkest look he could muster.

“What’s up with you?” she asked as she rode past him.

“You shot my bird, you bitch,” he spat.

“Mind your tone, or you’ll be next.”

“Pom.”

“Caneater.”                                                                                                                              

Stephen Hawking made a small noise, and he ignored her to pay attention to the bird. He didn’t see it, but her cold, hard gaze softened for a second when she saw him looking after the hawk.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” said Johnny confidently. “Paige will shoot those four,” he said, pointing at Damon, Mary-Anne, Mike and Doctor Kelly. “You two will come with me, where I’ll have some fun. Violent fun.”

“They have nothing to do with this. Let them go,” Lyon said, almost pleading. 

“Shut up,” Johnny ordered, and his fist collided with Lyons nose.

“Shit!” he muttered, clamping a hand over his face. A bit of blood seeped through his fingers.

“Man, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Johnny kicked his boot into their leader’s knee.

“Stop it, you bastard!” Doctor Kelly yelled, running over to Lyon.

“What, you’re afraid I’ll kill your boyfriend?” Johnny mocked. His expression then turned serious.