Dead Rising: The Run Aways

Chapter Nine

I wake up with sun shining right on me. I sit up a little. My hair is a mess. The braid is almost completely out. I just untie the tie and ruffle my hair, trying to get all the tangles out. After that, I fling all my hair to one side and let my neck be exposed to warmth of the sun.

I turn around and see Mitch is still asleep.

To my surprise, he looks almost cute sleeping.

His hair is also messy, with pieces sticking out on end. He has a little smile on his face, and it makes me wonder what it is he’s dreaming about.

I remind myself to ask him later.

I take both my hands and ruffle up his hair as I did mine to try to wake him up. His blue-green eyes immediately open. I stop messing with him and he sits up.

“Thanks for the lovely wakening.” He grunts with a sleepy grin. “How’d you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” I say, completely rejuvenated.  “I mean, as well as you can sleep on a tree branch.”

He wipes his eyes with his fists, still trying to recover from his deep sleep.

“So what were you dreaming about? You had an awfully big smile on your face, must’ve been good.” I laugh.

Mitch looks down, his face turning a light pink.

            “I don’t remember.” Is all he says as he begins climbing down the tree.

            I take that as an answer for now and I begin following him down the base of the tree.

            Mitch jumps down a couple feet and lands on the dry ground.

            “Thank god.” He says to himself. “No more mud!”

            I jump down like he did and grab my bag.

            Mitch grabs his bad as well.

            “Well, first thing’s first. Let’s get a car. WestPoint’s not too far from here.”

            “WestPoint?” I ask. “Where’s that?”

            “It’s only the next city over. You don’t get out much do you?” He laughs.

            “Well, I definitely do now. I’ve been out for an entire month now.” I tell him.

            “Oh yeah.”  He sighs, biting his lips.

            As we walk I can’t help but notice the way he moves. His shoulders are back, showing perfect posture, and his feet are moving swiftly, but quietly, like an animal going after prey.

            It’s kind of fascinating.

            “You doing all right back there?” He asks, looking back at me.

            “I’m doing just fine lover boy.” I say jokingly.

            “Lover boy?” He cockily grins. “I didn’t know we were starting to have nicknames for each other. I like it.”

            “Actually I-“

            “Nope. It’s my nickname now. Called it and you can’t take it back.” He laughs.

            “Fine.”

            “Fine Dill Pickle.” He continues laughing as we walk.

            “Dill Pickle? Really?” I grunt. “Why does mine sound so corny and lame?”

            He smiles, “Because that’s exactly what you are.”

            I kick him in the butt and leave a dirt mark that looks like the bottom of my leather boots on his shorts.

            He turns around completely and looks at my work.

            “You did not just mess with my shorts.”

            I put one hand on my hip and smile.

            “Looks like I did.”

            Mitch runs towards me, picks me up by my ankles, and throws me over his shoulders.

            I hit his back and start flinging my feet around as he starts walking back on course towards WestPoint

            “This isn’t fair.” I laugh.

            “Seems fair to me.” He says simply.

            After a while he finally lets me down and I playfully push him.

            “Alright, alright, calm down, calm down.” He pleads. “Let’s get back to business now. WestPoint is right over there.” He pints, squinting one of his eyes.

            I squint my eyes and see it appearing right through the trees.

            “Well come on.” I say, running towards the break of the trees.

            I stop short.

            They’re everywhere. The sick.

            I see a few walking brainlessly around the road, a handful next to the gas station, some behind some bushes, loads in the parking lot..

            Mitch, who is now standing beside me, curses, “Shit. I didn’t plan on this.”

            Still looking at all of them, I say, “I don’t think anyone did.”

            Mitch starts walking, slowly, cautiously, out in the open.

            He takes me by the hand, and puts his finger over his mouth, urging me to stay quiet.

            As I start walking out into the clearing, I take a miss-step and accidentally step on a stick. As I do a loud crunching sound spreads.

            The ones in the street turn, and I know they see us.