"Just this stop and we'll be there by tomorrow," cheers Silas with a nervous laugh.
"Never trust the big cities," says Bronte. "We leave at the break of dawn."
Fran likes the windows despite their being barred— mostly barred. The place has years behind it. So the boy unpacks his sleeping bag on his own and looks pleased with himself. That is, until the minute change of expression when from the window behind him comes a thud.
Glass shatters as arms and heads reach in and tear down the planks and grab him before he can move.
"SILAS!"
"FRAN!"
"Babe, no!"
"They're too many!"
They hammer down three, four of them, but Fran's long gone, Silas along with him, Surya's caught next and Bronte retreats, and I'm the only one who notices that the noise draws in many more.
Surrounded, Bronte and I stick our backs together. The car already crawls with the Turned and all exits are blocked. I hear a click and face him.
The Glock is out of its holster and the gun isn't facing the horde, but his own temple. He catches my eyes for a split-second and continues looking around frantically. He hasn't pulled the trigger, but in those seconds in which the Turned crawl closer, I finally realize what that bullet was always meant for.
They're already yanking his clothes and tearing his flesh when he glances at me with a million lost words and raises the barrel to my head.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* E N D *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
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In Case of Emergency
Short StoryA hundred miles. Five survivors. One bullet. Taken in by the same group of survivors who ran him over, Eden forms an unlikely bond with Bronte, a man with only one bullet left in his gun.
