Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)

Chapter 17- The Fury

Jerome's POV

We run on for a good three blocks, but I just can't take it. I flop down against some building and rub my pulsing temples, groaning. I shut my eyes and allow myself some time. For a moment, the pain blocks out everything. Then it all comes back.

Oh. My. Gosh. Adam was just kidnapped by those people. He's going to be sold into the army, or..or what? It just doesn't make sense. Unless, they don't plan to sell him. He's the leader of a pretty good group, I think. From what he was saying. They might make an example out of him.

I blearily open my eyes, and blink a few times. Everyone has started standing around me except Ian, who sits next to me with his leg stretched out in front of him. I stare at it for a moment, trying to comprehend why it is covered in bandages. He notices me staring at him.

"You alright?"

Alright? No, not alright. Very bad. I nod.

"Yeah. Just a little dizzy from all the running."

He frowns. "Doesn't surprise me. What the heck did they do to you?" He reaches out and gingerly pokes at the bandage covering my head.

I grin slightly, despite the pain. "Zombies. I could ask you the same."

He also grins. "Zombies. Nasty little freak would've got me, if it weren't for Adam."

His smile slides off his face. Then he turns to Jason.

"So what do we do now? If Adam had any plan after this, he sure didn't tell me. Where are we headed?"

Jason turns, startled. Then he shrugs. "Dunno. He didn't tell me either. I guess we do what we were doing before. Killing, looting, and looking for survivors."

The words strike me. Survivors.

"Jason, where's Mitch?" I ask.

Almost immediately I regret asking. Jason and Ian both look at me sadly, as if I'm a kicked puppy. I get a bad feeling.

"Guys," I growl, "where's Mitch?"

At this, Ryan coughs and I notice they are also staring at me sadly. Forcing my back against the wall, I heave myself up so I'm standing.

"You could at least tell a guy when his best friend is dead, instead of looking at me like I'm the dead one. What happened to him? Was he turned?"

Finally, Ian clears his throat from the ground. I swivel around glare at him. He coughs and turns red.

"We...We don't actually.......know what happened to Mitch."

He rubs the back of his neck.

I lean over him. "What!" I shout at him. I can't help it. Don't know what happened to him. What'd they do, throw him through a portal?"

"We never met back up with Mitch. The day this crap started he had left before Jason to get a pizza, to um, you know, surprise you. He, um, never came back and we never found him."

The fury doesn't leave me. "So you just let him go! Assumed he is dead and carried on! I suppose that's what you did with me too, isn't it?" I'm releasing all my pent-up anger at them. All those days of being tied up, in the dark, afraid. I watch with satisfaction as they all shrink away from me. "You just assumed I was dead! I bet you all were perfectly fine with it, too! Seems I'm the only one left here with feelings! Like I'm the only one who cares the one of our friends is dead, and the other is almost certainly on the way! I'm the one was stuck in that jail, who knows what might happen to him! I might be able to lead you back there! But you all don't care, do you? You all just want to get prettier guns and kill more zombies! Isn't that right?!"

I wait for a response, heaving. When no one answers, I turn and slam my hand against the brick wall.

"IT'S TRUE!" I scream. I just can take it. Mitch is dead. Adam will be dead. I should be dead. And they don't care. I hit my head against it, which immediately turns my vision red with pain. But I don't care. I slide down to the ground with my head in my hands, a strangled moan escaping me.

"Mitch," I whisper hoarsely, "Mitch."

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn. Ryan stands there looking almost guilty.

"We gotta go Jerome. We've been making to much noise."

I nod slightly and pick myself up. Someone offers me a backpack, probably Adam's, but I shake my head. My shoulder can't bear it. We slowly start making our way down the road, following Ian and Jason. They walk up front, discussing matters that seem almost unimportant. Ian nods off to the left, and we turn down a road that way soon after. No one speaks, and we just keep walking.

After a while, we find ourselves pounding up a long highway, seemingly to nowhere. The sun was starting to do down, and Quentin was discussing plans for the night with Ian. I had long since fallen behind the group, shuffling slowly.

"Look. Someone ditched their car up here."

I glance up and then down again, only for my head to shoot up a moment later. The car in front of us was the exact make and color of Mitch's car. If we could see the license plate, I would be able to confirm if it was his. However, as we hurry forward, my hopes drop.

Several pieces of zombies splatter across the hood, and the windshield and bumper were well splattered with blood. There were dents along the sides, and one if the windows looked as if someone had punched it. The front license plate was completely doused in sickening blood, and a quick study revealed that the back plate appeared to have fallen off. I throw myself down next to the front one while the guys go through the truck. I can tell from their disappointed murmers that its no good. I sit there for a while, fidgeting, but then I can't take it. I slide a throwing knife from Ty's backpack and start to scrape off the blood. After several minutes, it starts to come clean and my heart skips a beat.

The license plate is Canadian. I start to scrape off below it, and the numbers start to appear. One by one, the exact numbers of Mitch's car. Ryan joins me as I scrape off the last one. We stare at it for a moment, but then he turns to me.

"Is it his?"

"Yeah."

Well, at least we know he made it out of the pizza parlor."

"Yeah."

"I think he was driving for a while. He's completely out of gas."

"Yeah."

Ryan nods. "Is there anything in there you'd want to take with us?"

I shake my head, and a long moment of silence follows. "He might not be dead, Ryan."

He doesn't respond, and I get the feeling he's staring at me sadly again. Then I hear a sigh and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. There's a bloody knife in there, and some blood on the seat and the interior."

I know what he thinks. He thinks Mitch dragged himself away to die, or was turned and left.

I shake my head at Ryan and point down the highway the way we were heading.

"I think he went north."