run

day oo7

saskia

He's weird, and he's annoying- mostly because he calls me beef jerky girl. I don't trust him enough to give him my name- so he milks the fact that I stole from him whilst he was waving an M-16 in my face. He's very much the conversationalist- so he tells me everything from his favourite ice cream flavour (which just so happens to be chocolate chip cookie dough) to the bike accident at seven that gave him a fishhook-looking scar on his knee. He's like the breathing, living, talking Facebook profile of a thirteen-year-old kid. I get he's nervous, scarred for life, hungry, thirsty- but so am I, and if he could shut up, save some oxygen and some energy, I'd be ever so grateful.

He tells me that what's been going on is a virus. Nobody knows what it really does, nobody knows where it came from. That, he says, is the scariest part.

The only thing I really tell him is where I'm headed- which is home, to get my little brother, to find my parents, to make sure they're all okay. He tells me his parents are dead, and he's got no siblings. I tell him I'm sorry- which is apparently not the right thing to say, because he says: 'don't be sorry, it's not your fault,' to which I want to reply: 'well, what would you have me say then?' It's always a chore to fill in the awkward silence that's left behind when someone announces a personal tragedy like that.

"What's your problem with me?" He asks me, as we continue walking parallel to 5th Avenue.

"I don't trust you." My answer is simple, blunt. "Can you blame me?" I ask, as he gives me a sort of butthurt expression. I refuse to let myself feel sorry for him- he's the one who stole my rifle and decided to get involved with me in the first place. Like I said: nobody's going to stop me from getting home to my family.

▿

"So, Noah," I say, after we've walked for a couple hours or so. "Got any more beef jerky you can give me before I pass out?"

Noah turns around to look at me. He might be hellishly annoying but he sure can keep pace underneath a harsh sun and suffocating air. I hate the heat so much it's unreal.

"Why, you hungry?" He answers. "I'll make you another deal, then."

I roll my eyes and walk up to him. "Go on."

"A piece of beef jerky for a piece of information." When I don't respond with a positive look, he shakes the bag in my face. "Remember, it's honey-flavoured."

"I'm not a tour guide, and I'm not Google either, you know," I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Google can't tell me your name, though."

A smirk from him, and exasperated sigh from me.

"It's Saskia. Just Saskia." I hold out my hand expectantly, and instead of putting some food into my outstretched palm, he takes my hand and shakes it vigorously.

"Pleased to meet you, 'Just Saskia,'" he replies, a grin on his face at cracking the lamest dad joke ever. But, true to his word, he lets go and places a piece of jerky into my hand. It's a pathetic little bit for what I told him, but he closes the bag anyways and stuffs it back into his pocket.

"What happened to more jerky for more information?" I ask him accusingly.

He just flashes me a highly irritating, but also damned cute, radiant, white-toothed, drop-dead gorgeous smile. "We sort of need to ration it," he says matter-of-factly, and then looks at me again and goes: "haven't you ever learned how to survive an apocalypse before?"

And I shrug and say: "no, 'cause I've never been in one." A pause, me crossing my arms, giving him a haughty look. "Why, have you?"

He nods, taking me by surprise, and then delivers another couple sentences of idiocy. "Hell yeah. 6th grade."

My left eyebrow shoots upwards into my strawberry-blonde hairline.

"Zombie Fiezzta, first person shooter." He flashes me the same cocky grin, lifting both hands up, and then proceeds to point his pistol fingers at me and emit a series of childish pew, pew, pew noises. I roll my eyes and he faces forwards again, kicking a chunk of concrete aside with his toe, as though bored.

"That doesn't count," I snort- but I can't help the smile. Okay, fine. Cute and funny. He was probably the popular sort in school. Was on the Football team, cheerleader girlfriend. I paint his whole life out in my head, then pull a face wen I remember that my favourite sport was never cheerleading, it was yoga. Specifically, pose 13, which is the one where you lie on your back and pretend to focus on your breathing. Pose 13 was always a great five-minute nap during gym sessions.

"Sure it does," He retorts. He's still smiling. When he realises I'm smiling too, he gives me a nudge that takes me so much by surprise that I trip over my own toes and faceplant ungracefully into the dirt.

A/N: y'all I'm aware that I haven't posted in years - anyways, enjoy this new chapter of run! I'm not sure how active I'm going to be; I'm currently in my third year of med school and things are going to get pretty busy next year! but!! in light of quarantine, my creative juices have sort of started to come back, so I'm praying it stays that way.

Thank u all so so so much for all the support, the comments, the notifications despite my massive inactivity! I see all your comments & still check my notifications, even if I don't have the time to respond to everything- you are all so so sweet, I honestly can't thank you all enough.

If you ever have any questions or want to talk or ask me about updates, feel free to DM me through my insta, @studyholmes ! I'm very active on there right now so I'm more likely to reply there! Anyways thank you for still bothering to read all of this!

Lots of love,

Sarah x