A Walk Among The Dead

Chapter 20

"You disgusting bitch." Joe whispered before turning around and punching my right cheek. I fell to the ground and clutched my face where he had hit it. It felt like my face was on fire.

"Son of a bitch!" Dad shouted, lunging toward Joe, fist first. He nailed Joe right on the eye. Joe stumbled back from the impact, but didn't fall. He put up his fists in front of his face, ready to fight. Brady and Brendon rushed to my aid as I laid on the ground, trying to hold back my tears.

"Are you alright?" Brendon asked. I just nodded and watched in horror as Joe and dad went at it.

Dad dodged Joes first punch, but couldn't avoid the second. Joe's fist hit Dad in the jaw, but it didn't faze him at all. Dad was so pumped full of adrenaline, he seemed to be invincible. He kneed Joe in the gut and gave him another good face punch before shoving him down and pinning him to the ground. Joe tried to cover his face but couldn't. He was helpless lying there with a now bloody pulp for a face.

I felt bad. Not because I'd gotten sick or felt sick, but because I was watching Joe get the shit beat out of him by my own father, and I wasn't trying to stop it. Something in me was telling me to keep my mouth shut. All of the things Brendon had told me about this guy just flooded over me, not causing me to get upset, but rather angry.

The entire time Dad and Joe were fighting, Joe's hippy army was whooping and hollering, cheering on the situation. I could tell these people weren't real military personnel. They acted like wild pack animals.

"Come on Joe!"

"I'm cheerin' for the other guy if you don't get up and kick ass, Joe!"

"Joe! Joe! Joe!"

My head was spinning. I was extremely agitated, and angry. I wish they'd close their fucking mouths...

I turned my head and saw that Brendon was holding a small hand gun. When he wasn't paying attention, I grabbed the gun from his hands and stood to my feet. Before anyone could stop me, I began to scream at the top of my lungs and open fire into the air. After about three shots, the hippy army grew quiet, and Dad and Joe froze. Brendon and Brady took this opportunity to pull dad off of Joe so he wouldn't end up killing him.

"Let go of me! I ain't done with this fucker yet!" Dad squirmed in Brendon and Brady's arms as they dragged him away from the scene. Joe slowly stood up and wiped the blood from his nose and mouth with his sleeve, only to have more gush out right after he did.

"Damn old man, you sure know how to hit. You'll pay for that later." Joe said. He gave dad a smirk before turning around to face his people. Dad struggled against Brendon and Brady's hold, wanting to hit Joe again.

"Soldiers!" Joe yelled.

"Yes sir!" The hippies shouted back. They all raised their hands to their heads in a salute.

"Escort our new, and old guests to the vehicles!"

"Sir yes sir!"

Not even a millisecond later, the phony troops started jumping down from the truck beds they stood in, and marched toward us.

"Watch it!" Dad shouted as one of the hippies tried to bind his hands together with a rope. I'm surprised he didn't try to fight back.

A group of troops finally approached Brendon, Brady, and I and tied our hands in front of us with the same rope they used for Dad. We were all connected like a chain of prisoners walking through a prison yard.

Laura and Rachel were sobbing at this point, and Alex just looked tired. Hell, we were all tired. It's moments like this that make me wish that everything was normal again, that I could just go home and lay in my soft, warm bed and sleep through the night. Now, I'm lucky if I even get a scratchy blanket to sleep on and a few hours of sleep a night.

As the hippy troops marched us back to their trucks, my adrenaline started to wear off, revealing the pain in my cheek where I had been punched. It burned and ached, and I couldn't reach up and hold it with my hand to sooth myself. Somehow, holding an injury always makes it feel better. A phenomenon I couldn't even use to help me due to the fact that I was tied up with worn old rope.

The seven of us somehow managed to pile into one truck bed. I considered throwing myself out once we were on the road, but I'd just take everyone down with me, literally.

Joe walked up to the side of the truck and slammed his fist down on the metal. We all jumped, putting a smile on Joe's beaten, bloody face.

"Oops, didn't mean to startle y'all." He said in his creepiest voice. I cringed as he chuckled to himself. Great, we're going to be the prisoners of a fucking psychopath.

"Anywho, try not to get too comfortable back here. Our base is right down the road here." Joe said, patting his hand on the truck and walking away. Brendon, Rachel, Laura, and Alex all shared the same expression. They all looked like dear in headlights.

"What?" I whispered to Brendon, who was thankfully sitting right next to me.

"We've been living near them this whole time. Who knows how long they've been watching us." Brendon whispered.

"What? They didn't even know you guys were here until that whole shooting lesson incident." I whispered back, confused.

"It was an act." He whispered. "They knew we were there, they could've captured us right then, but they didn't. Now I know why."

I was going to ask him why, but the truck started moving, making my fear take over my body. I couldn't move, talk, or hardly breathe for that matter. We were on our way to a hippy farm, a prison. All of a sudden, I remembered the gun shop, and grizzly man's voice started ringing in my memory.

"The real monster out there isn't dead, it's alive."