Life in an Apocalypse

Chapter 14

Warning: this chapter contains sexual violence as well as gore. You've been warned.

     A few days had gone by ever since Cynthia remembered everything. What I didn't expect was that we would find those same individuals now in our town. There were five of them, according to Cynthia's memory, and they had just so happened to be around us. I could hear their five voices just outside the house, chanting about killing and ruling as kings of the apocalypse and being able to do whatever they wanted. I took Cynthia to the upstairs room where Jack, Damien and Marge all hid to keep an eye on the group. Cynthia was shaking just at the thought that they were just outside of the house we stayed at. And just as I had expected, all three of them were raring to go. 
    "This is our chance! Lemme at 'em!" Damien nearly cried aloud, clutching to his two pistols.
    "I agree. Let's teach them a lesson," Jack growled lowly, taking out his shotgun. From what I could tell, those two had those weapons fully loaded and were prepared to spray. 
    "My thoughts exactly. Idiots like them don't deserve to live," Marge seethed, venom dripping from her voice. All three of them are ready to go, I thought smiling to myself. The same could be said for me, but I was more concerned about Cynthia. She had not stopped shaking ever since this all began, clinging to me for dear life. I gave her a gentle squeeze, reassuring her that she would be safe. 
    "So long as I am going to be the leader of this group," I spoke softly, just enough for Cynthia to hear, "So help me God and all who are holy that I will see to it that these guys do not live past today. Bet on it." I felt Cynthia's head bob up and down on my shoulder in acknowledgement that I would follow through with what I had said. And with that in mind, I stood up, helping Cynthia up with me as Marge, Damien and Jack gave me their full attention.
    "Well then," I finally announced, "Let's go greet our... 'guests', shall we?"

    We emerged from our house and went up to confront the group. Hearing us, the group of five guys turned to us with cocky expressions. Jack and Damien flanked my sides with Marge directly behind me and Cynthia keeping close to my side. I kept my composure as I stared them down.
    "Which one of you guys is the leader here?" I asked, trying to sound authoritative. Each of the guys had one distinction between them; one had blue hair, one had a scar across his left eye, one had a tattoo on his right arm, and one had blood smeared all over his shirt, and the last one wore sunglasses. The one with the blue hair stepped forward.
    "What's it to ya, lil' girl?" he jeered, surveying the group. His eyes looked over Damien and Jack first, laughing. "Oh what's this? Two grown-ass guys listening to a little pipsqueak?! Oh she must be SO scary," he said sarcastically. His buddies laughed loudly. I could sense a change of breathing from Damien. He was trying to get on my group's nerves. Thankfully, Jack scoffed and brushed it off. 
    "You wanna say that after our leader's through with you?" Jack calmly retorted, wearing a cocky smile of his own. The five of them stopped laughing altogether. The leader didn't seem too happy about that, and decided to look towards Marge. His eyes eventually landed on Cynthia, and I felt Cynthia shrink behind me as he smiled sadistically.
    "Oooooh, it's the little kitten," he said in a creepy fashion. Just listening to him call her kitten was almost enough to send me over the edge in anger. "Hey guys! Remember her? You know, the kitten that was so good," the leader continued, staring her down, "The one that let us have our way after we took care of the old woman that was with her? Oh, who was that again? Wasn't that your mom, kitten?" He kept going on, taunting her and terrorizing her. I wasn't going to just stand by and let her be abused by this. I put a protective arm around her, pulling her close to me.
    "Just who in the name of fuck are you calling kitten, asshole," I seethed, surprising my group as well as them. The leader's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting me to speak up in that fashion. He recovered quickly from his surprise though, and kept smiling smugly. My anger was piling high; I had just about enough of these guys.
    "The one I'm calling kitten is the one who I screwed after killing her mom. All because I could," he laughed maniacally, "She was fast for awhile, but I still managed to get her. She passed out, too, giving us about two days worth of time to play around with her. She was tight, I tell you. My boys agreed once they had a go at her, too! Ain't that right, boys?" The rest of his group laughed and cheered in unison. That was the last straw; not just for me but for everyone in my group. Jack cocked his shotgun, Damien whipped out his two pistols; Marge even took out one of the assault rifles we got from the Vegas Mall. I pulled out my bayonet smoothly, flipping it in the air as I broke away from Cynthia, quietly telling her to get behind Marge. I walked up to the leader, who was still laughing and not paying attention to me. That was fine by me - it was his funeral. I didn't even speak; I plunged my bayonet straight into his heart in one go. His breathing cut short immediately. He slowly looked down towards me and noticed where my bayonet was. I pulled out my bayonet, his disgusting blood splattering my face. He howled in pain, clutching his chest as he bled profusely. His group looked taken aback.