Anarchy on Earth

~20~

Not too soon after that we had a ceremony for Auden and Henry. It was a grotesque little thing. Griffin shined his light on the two bodies as we all said words. Auden had a fresh stab wound on his head, and blood streaked his pale face. His clothes were torn, and battered, as if to tell his state before death. Henry was a mess. Auden had taken a chunk out of his lower abdomen, and his sticky entrails lolled about. Griffin did his best to kind of... Put his intestines back in his stomach with no avail. His skull was shattered, and there was bone jutting out of the bridge of his nose. One eye of his was destroyed, and the lids were shut. You could see part of the cornea hanging off of his eye. His other eye was glassed over, staring into heaven, if that's even where you go. I was never a heavy christian, but at that moment, I guessed on becoming one.

"May he rest in pieces." Jordan said.

"You mean peace?" I asked wearily

"No."

The door of the shed busted open, and the "dab" (hah... Remembered it.) guys walked in. They were both carrying pickaxes. One of them heaved it over his shoulder and brought it down on Auden's face. There was a dull squishing sound, and everyone cringed as grey jelly like substance began to trickle through the hole that was now his face. The other guy did the same to Henry, and his head practically exploded, sending a piece of scalp into TK's face. He spat, and shook his head. Our friends were truly gone.

"Alright. You four get out. Master Kyle wants to see you all." The dab guy on the left said.

"And what incentive would ours be?" I shot back.

The other dabby guy walked up, and grabbed the knife out of my hands. Until then, I forgot I had it. I wish I hadn't. He grunted, and threw it down near my foot. The blade neatly sliced about a centimetre off my ankle.

"Stop!" TK said, stepping forward.

I doubled over in pain. Blood was soaking through my right shoe.

"That's your incentive." He growled. He had a low voice. Like gravel. I could see dark skin underneath his balaclava.

"Move..." I groaned. "Just go."

We followed the dab guys. TK held me up as we stumbled along. The docks were set up like a fort. Gated off, no strangers, only crates and crates of explosives, food, water, and scrap metal.

"This way." Dab dude numero uno said, as he led us to a giant boat lot. In the water, tied to posts were nearly ten boats. Some as small as skiffs, others as big as yachts.

"Kneel down right here." Dabtastic blowhard #2 said, forcing us all down on our knees.

"Presenting Master Kyle and his assistant, Jackson Polk!" Some new guy said, walking towards us. He had a shaved head, and the shadow of. A beard. He had a sword.

How is he still alive. I kept asking myself.

The grinning face of Kyle walked in front of us, followed by the hooded figure of Jackson. He grimaced at me, and nodded. What the hell did that mean? Good job? Hi? I nodded back. I hope he was wondering what mine stood for. Now I would tell you but... That would be a very obscene string of words.

"What do we have here?" Kyle asked, his face smug. "A jock... His handbag..."

At this, Miranda sprung up and charged at Kyle. He intended to bat her aside, but she was too smart for that. She ducked, and neck punched him. Kyle coughed, and staggered back, before the super dabio brothers grabbed her and threw her back at us.

"Now..." Kyle said, regaining his posture. "Continuing. Some girl, I've never seen before-"

"I'm going to stick one of these metal scraps down your throat and wrench out your stomach. Then, I'm going to put your stomach on your head like a hat, and punch you in your head stomach hat." Jordan said, matter-of-factly.