The Dark Ones

Chapter 4

I sat there crying. My knees hugging my chest the gun in hand and my head in my knees. Either I just became a murderer or I am about to get murdered. I don't know which one is worse. Scared to look I wipe my eyes and shift my glance to Henry. Henry is dead. A pool of blood as red as an apple. A bullet hole straight through his head. Then I knew that being a murderer was worse. I glanced at Bryce. "Bryce!" I ran to him. He was sitting in a pool of blood.

"Wh-what's yo-yo-ur name?" He was stuttering very badly. He was dying, yet not one tear left his eyes.

"Wren," I said softly. "My name is Wren,"

"Wren" he took a moment. "Go," I was confused. "The bite caused Hen to-to tu-rn in, into a mo-o-onster-er," Bryce got bit by Henry.

"Are you going to turn into one of these? Because you got bit?"

"Yes to-o bo-th,"

"I need evidence,"

"I- I saw Hen get bit," I let him finish "I wa-atched the transf-or-mat-ation,"

"I'm going to get help,"

"Wren, lea-ve and don-t come ba-ack," I saw a glint in his pocket. "Take the knife, str-rile to head," he only had one thing left to say "I'm sor-" and he was gone. He was dead. Bryce, the man who nearly raped me, yet the man that saved me. I grabbed the knife and the empty gun. I let one tear fall, one for Bryce, one for the millions that he held in. I kissed the man on the forehead then I only looked back once before I left the factory through the back door. Countless times I toss the facts of surviving in my head from side to side. Hit in head. Don't get bit. Stay alive. After walking out of the factory I look down both sides of the street. I pick and stick with one side of the road. Left, I go left. Sprinting down that street all I could see was Henry's head, and the crosshairs of the gun on it. Eventually I reach a big general store. Inside the store it is dark. Everything is astray, teared up, and destroyed. "Did a tornado hit here?" I mumble to myself. This store is like trying to go through a maze. Eventually I make my way to the food section after getting myself a backpack. Shoving in fruit and vegetables and the occasional sweets into the bag along with lots of water. I'm stocking up for what could happen. Time to make my way to the front doors. As I walk I think of my parents and how it's not almost sunset, a whole day they know nothing about my whereabouts. My thoughts end short when I see the exit. More importantly what's in front of the exit. One of them only know I get a good view of one. Their eyes are black voids going off into space. Their flesh so old it's falling off and in some areas you can only see the bone. I quickly duck back into an isle and I have my knife ready. I inch closer to the opening of the isle. That is where I will kill the monster. I will become a murderer of somebody who is already murdered. Does that count? As I inch closer my adrenaline is through the roof. One wrong move and I could be dead, one wrong move and I let the dark ones win. Closer. More closer. Finally, I am right at the edge of the isle, knife in hand. I am ready. I stand up. That's when I feel the hands grab my back.