When Luck Runs Out

Friendly Fire

    I woke to the smell of something burning, whether it be paper or flesh I couldn't tell, but I jumped to my feet immediately, and in the process bumped my head rather painfully on the window.
"Good morning." John said with a smile. He was... well, I didn't know exactly what he was doing. The candle was lit, and he was holding a smoking piece of bread over top of it.
"What in the world are you doing?" I asked.
"Well, we already had bread and peanut butter, but what about toast and peanut butter?" John asked, looking very proud of himself for thinking about that.
"You're making toast with a candle?" I asked.
"Works alright." He shrugged, nodding to a piece of slightly browned bread on the table.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"About eight in the morning, decided to let you sleep since you let me." he shrugged.
"You're not mad about that, are you?" I asked nervously.
"I might have been, but when I woke up you looked so funny sleeping that it kind of wore away." John decided with a laugh.
"How'd I look funny?" I asked suspiciously.
"Your head was back and you were drooling." John pointed out. I wiped my chin immediately with my sleeve, and found that he was right.
"Oh, god, gross." I decided, wiping the saliva on the back of the couch.
"Don't worry, you were adorable. If I had a camera I would've taken a picture." John insisted. A little piece of the crust fell off of the bread and landed in the candle, being engulfed in flames, sending black smoke up into the air.
"So that's what a smelled, I thought the building was on fire." I admitted.
"I would've woken you up for something like that." John insisted.
"I think you'd try to play hero and carry me out." I shrugged.
"Well if you were injured or unconscious I would." John decided.
"Always nice to know I'm in good hands." I laughed.
"Always Sherlock, always." John assured. It took another ten minutes to get the bread just the slightest bit crunchy, and we spread a little bit of peanut butter on the not so toasty toast and began our pathetic little breakfast.
"You're a superb chief." I decided sarcastically.
"Don't I know it." John laughed. When we were done with our breakfast we decided to go look around our neighboring buildings, see if we happen to stumble upon a grocery store or something. We put a pebble on either side of the door frame entering our little safe haven, which was plenty inconspicuous I suppose, unless you were looking for it. The next door neighbor was some sort of office building, and apart from all the broken wooden desks and rusty chairs you could want, it was useless. The one on the other side was a little shop, but the doors were intact and no matter what we did to try to open them, they wouldn't budge, as if someone jammed them to prevent looting. It was alright though, from what I could see there were only empty wracks and shelves, it wasn't worth breaking a window or anything. Across the street there was a little bus stop, with a water lodged advertisement still clinging in strands to the inside of it. There was nothing there of course, other than a pretty gross looking bench, and we moved to the building. It appeared to be a large shop, like one of those rich shops that charge ten bucks for a bottle of water just because it had its label on it. The doors were easy enough to get open, even though they stuck a little bit at first. But there was the sound of cracking rust, and they swung free. It opened up into a large area, looking to me like it had been a jewelry display since there were about fifty glass cases, all empty, with moldy silk and burst lightbulbs inside.
"You think there's a light in here?" I asked, since the door blocked out all of the sunlight.
"There's no electricity." John pointed out.
"Oh, ya." I muttered, trying to prop the door open to shed some light.
"That's pretty much a beacon for anyone looking!" John insisted. I groaned, but knew he was right.
"What's this?" John asked, holding up a rusty medal pole, snapped in half.
"Pole." I said obviously.
"I mean, what's it doing here? This looks like a curtain rod, like the ones we used to jam the door." He pointed out.
"Maybe it fell?" I suggested. John looked around nervously, the door swinging shut in our confusion, blocking out the light.
"No, someone put it here, we're not alone." He decided. I immediately grabbed for the door handle, but I was beaten by someone grabbing me around the waist, pulling me from John and covering my mouth. I shrieked through my lips, trying to kick at my attacker's shins and doing my best to wrestle my arms free. What if it was Jim, what if he was going to hang me from my feet and cut out my eyes? I struggled even more, but the feeling of a blade against my throat stilled me, all the hairs on my body standing on end as I felt the metallic chill of a metal knife. Where was John, was he okay? Did my attacker kill him first? My heart dropped as I considered this, the first presence of danger and I had failed already.
"No, drop him!" John insisted, and relief flowed through my veins. I couldn't see, but I could make out a very large human shaped form, squirming and shifting, through a crack of light under the door. "Release him and no one gets hurt!" John insisted.
"No one needs to get hurt anyway." Said an amused voice above me.
"Wait, Greg?" I asked, and the arms holding me loosened enough so that I could slip away. A lantern was lit and I saw John, holding a knife to Jeanette's throat, looking livid. As soon as he saw I was okay he threw her to the floor, rushing over to me and standing between Greg and I, as if he were going to get another funny idea. Both of them, however, were smiling, as if this were some sort of hilarious joke.
"Funny seeing you two here." Greg laughed. John still had his knife aimed at the two of them, but my chunk of glass had been lost in the struggle, and I couldn't see it in the dim lantern light.
"Well, this is the games." John pointed out.
"So what, are you going to kill us?" Jeanette asked.
"Not if you don't kill us." John agreed.
"I thought we were allies." Greg pointed out.
"Yes, you did think that." I agreed.
"So we're not?" he asked, frowning slightly.
"No, we are, we definitely are, as long as that's good for you two." John decided.
"Lower your knife." Jeanette insisted. John looked at me apprehensively, as if the moment he lowered his knife was when they'd rush at us with swords, but I just nodded, and his arm lowered.
"Brilliant, we're all friends again." Greg said happily.
"Swear on it." John demanded.
"What?" Jeanette asked.
"Swear on it, didn't you hear him?" I snapped back, and Jeanette raised her arms in innocence.
"I swear we'll be your allies." Greg decided.
"As will we." John agreed. Jeanette beamed at us, but I was still a bit apprehensive, they had just pressed a knife to my throat.
"What was all of that for then?" I asked.
"We couldn't tell who you were! It wasn't until John got all protective and noble that I could tell it was District Twelve's love birds." Greg shrugged.
"Excuse you." I snapped.
"Why did you guys pick the building directly across from ours?" I asked.
"We didn't know that now did we?" Jeanette asked. "We thought we were pretty well secluded."
"Evidently not." John muttered. He still didn't move, shieling me from the two of them, but I was prepared to push him out of the way if anything happened. Just because he wanted to take on the role of protective boyfriend doesn't mean I couldn't take it right back.
"So, what have you two been up to, huh?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrows accusingly.
"We've been looking for food, shut up." John snapped.
"That's defensive." Jeanette asked.
"Very suspicious." Greg agreed. Thankfully the light was low, and they probably couldn't tell that I was blushing.
"How about you two?" John asked.
"We've been trying to establish a secure base, obviously that didn't work as well as we thought." he shrugged.
"Nope, quite flawed." I decided.
"Do you two happen to have any water?" he asked.
"Yes, but it's pretty much all gone now." John shrugged. "Do you have any extra weapons?"
"Glad you asked, in fact, we've got pretty much everything but water. I won the cornucopia." Greg shrugged. Only after he pointed that out did I notice the specks of blood on his clothing and the tint of red on his sword. It was only day two and Greg had taken some lives.
"And they didn't have water?" I asked in surprise.
"No, I guess everything can't be too easy, can it?" Greg shrugged.
"It's been alright." I shrugged.
"Where are you guys camped out?" Jeanette asked.
"Up in an old apartment, probably got better living accommodations than here." John guessed.
"Probably, we slept in sleeping bags on the floor." Greg agreed.
"Well, you're welcome to stay up with us, allies have to stick together." John pointed out.
"Can't we be allies from a distance?" I muttered, but Greg obviously heard me, because he laughed.
"Not really the most sociable one are you Sherlock?" he asked. I just glared at him, but he couldn't really get the message.
"Come on, we'll help you carry your stuff and then we'll head up." John decided, putting his knife in his belt and walking deeper into the building along with Greg and Jeanette. Maybe he was more trusting than I was, but I definitely didn't trust these two at all. No one with good intentions says hello with a hostage trade. I felt my neck, and felt a small drop of blood, as if his knife had caught my throat a little bit. John was in a conversation with Jeanette about the lack of obituaries, but I was barely listening. My eye was on the dagger she held, which was innocently waving through the air as her arm swung, but the minute it reached higher than normal I was going to tackle her from behind, save John the only way I knew how. Greg was walking alongside them but not contributing to the conversation, maybe he too was pondering this very forced alliance. How many people had he killed for the supplies in the cornucopia? Some of them had to have run, but a good two or three would've taken their chances? Had Greg killed them, and if so, how could he be so calm? Just the sight of that dead girl I had found was enough to give me a whole good month worth of nightmares, and yet Greg's cares wiped off with the blood on the blade. Their little base was behind another door, in a little room that must have once acted as a large supply closet with hardwood floors. Now it was their makeshift house, with two roll out sleeping bags on either side, another dark lantern, a small pile of weapons, and some food and crackers in the corner.
"Home sweet home." Greg shrugged.
"Not for long." Jeanette agreed, rolling up her sleeping bag as if anxious to get out of there as fast as possible.