Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)

Chapter 18-Pewdiepie

Adam's POV

I stumble along dirty sidewalks, am forced through thin alleyways, and shoved through abandoned stores and homes. The people around me have long since lost their celebratory mood. They all walk  around me, guns at the ready. I recognize the position. We're in zombie territory.

Technically speaking, the zombies have no territory. They are just everywhere. Zombie territories are just where majors groups of them form. Not really sure why. It's almost like their drawn to each other.

My headache-no, worse than that. My head no longer feels like it is splitting in half. I am able to focus on the situation now, so I do.

Jerome is safe. Good.

The team is safe, minus Mitch. Pretty good.

We have enough gear to last us several days. Good.

I was just kidnapped. Very, very bad.

We push on through an abandoned Walmart. It still amazes me how quickly a world can go to crap. Aisles are tipped over, dust and dirt is everywhere, and the whole place just looks a wreck.

Ok, what do these people want with me. And who are these people? Clearly, they are incredibly powerful. They must have a large base, and they must be very skilled. Now what would they want with me?

I wasn't amazingly athletic. I mean, I have lost weight during this whole thing. I can swing a sword and shoot a gun. I can run fast. Just don't expect me to start doing flips and getting all fancy. Okay, so I was the leader of a half-decent group. We all had weapons and could use them. Other than that though, not much. So what the heck would they want with me?

I'm jarred back to reality as my foot catches on a piece of rubble and slip forward, catching myself before I hit the ground and the people in front of me. The pain in my foot suddenly reminds my body of how tired I am. We have been walking for an hour, easily. Half of which I was in and out of consciousness. A few had smirked at my little trip, but other than that, they stay in their little protection circle around me. No, not protection. Guarding. I'm their prisoner now.

A scream burns at the back of my throat, and the temptation to let it out overwhelms me. I bite my tongue, hard. First zombies and losing Mitch and Jerome. I still haven't heard from Alesa or my parents. My eyes start to water, but I glare at the ground. Let them do what they want to do to me. I can take it.

The leader up front throws up his arm. We immediately come to a halt and the group begins to shuffle. He throws open some huge doors leading out of Walmart, and cautiously makes his way out. We step out onto some street I probably could've recognized, and move forward. No zombies block our path, and they just start to walk casually across the street. A few start laughing and talking, and I see a few eyes glance at me before a snort of laughter. Gloating about their little mission. One of them calls out, and a head pops out of the apartment building in front of us. They exchange greeting, and the dude in the window shouts something to the seemingly empty street.

People flood from all sides and move with us towards the doors, which open as we approach them. Inside, more people stand on the lobby of the building. They exchange nods, and then they all leave. Back into the street. Guard duty.

Several people break off from the group and head in different directions. They go and sit on various couches around the lobby, disappear into dark doorways, or just mill around. I examine the scene for a moment with a passive face. Only the leader and I still stand here now. He watches me, but I ignore him. My eyes scan the whole situation. It is undoubtably impressive. They have a miniature society worked out in this one building, I'm guessing. That's the way I would've done it.

The leader must've got bored of the Adam Show, because he shoves me forward towards the stairs at the far end of the room. Up we climb, through the dark stairwells. That's one thing. There's no electricity or lighting that I've noticed. When we get to the top, a teenage girl waits for us there. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. She takes in my tied hands, the dried blood on my face. Then the leader tells her to "go gather." whatever that meant. She races off.

He keeps walking, and I follow. We turn so many times that I am having a hard time figuring out the way we came. Finally, he comes to a stop outside a door, and gestures at me to enter. I raise my eyebrow and lift my tied hands. He rolls his eyes and shoves the door open, and I walk through it. A long table greets me, surrounded by chairs. Two of the chairs, right next to each other, have ropes tied to the back of them. I bet one is for me.

Sure enough, he pushes me into the chair and secures me to it. He then walks out, leaving me with the trickle of people who keep coming through the door. Each chair fills up, until he comes back pushing a blindfolded man through the door. He sits him the chair next to me, and rips his blindfold off. He then goes and sits in the chair directly across from us.

For a moment, it is all silent. I know they are watching us, looking for some kind of reaction. We both observe each other coolly, then turn and face him. I manage to keep my face passive despite the person sitting next to me.

They still just sit and watch us, until Pewdiepie speaks.

"He looks different. His hair is better now. And he doesn't look quite as dead anymore. Where'd you take him? The salon?"

I frown for a moment, confused. Then it hits me. He's talking about Jerome. He recognized me, and is acting like he has no clue who I am.

The leader smiles. "Not the salon, I'm afraid. A little hardware shop. Now." He shifts his attention to his own people. "We have two prisoners once more. We have decided to sell Felix to the army. Any oppositions on that matter?"

It is silent. He nods. "Good. Now, we have captured this young man here," he nods at me, "in exchange for our prisoner Jerome. He leads a small but powerful group. Jerome has joined them, and they have fled. So, we now have a much more able-bodied prisoner. Does anyone have anything to say for him?"

What is this, a council meeting? Although, I got the feeling that these people could quickly turn cruel in a matter of seconds.

A few different voices join the conversation.

"Sell him, too."

"Nah, he's more athletic! We'd at least need to sell him directly in. No chance of lab rat. Bring us more money."

"Who cares where he goes? Just get him out of here, I say."

"You said that for Felix and Jerome."

"Worked, did'n it?"

The words spin around me, faster and faster until I no longer care. Felix is slumped over in his chair, looking at nothing in particular. The leader is the only one who hasn't taken part in the conversation. He's pulled out a knife and traces the grain in the wood with it. Us three are the only ones quiet. The other voices have risen to a roar. I decide Felix has the right idea. I slump down as far as I can and stare at my feet.

"Forget it. We'll discuss it later." The leader was clearly sick of them. Why are they having so much trouble deciding what to do with me?