The Taken

28

Veronica sunk under Barry's weight but she kept her cool. An adult approached and Veronica instantly volunteered to take it out.

The stench on this one smelled of spoiled eggs mixed with sewage and everything wrong with the world. Veronica wrinkled her nose and her mouth muscles creased in disgust. The odor took her by surprise, only working in the father's advantage. He let out a guttural clicking. His voice sounded like what sandpaper felt like.

Quickly though, Veronica recalled her instincts and swiped one of her knives across the man's chest. He grabbed at the gash that was more yellow from pus than it was red from blood and he attempted to hit Veronica. He swung and she was fast to duck; always two steps ahead. While crouching she went at his legs. She kicked at them, breaking his knees and bending them backwards. The man screamed in pain before her and fell to the ground. He reached out for the girl with one hand, the other still fumbling with his chest. Veronica put him out of his misery and plunged her knife into his skull and back out with one movement. She wiped her small blade on his sleeve and secured it on her belt.

"Where were we?" She asked no one in particular and turning back to the boys.

They hauled Barry up again and were off, towards the burning building. Where an upturn of events occurred.

A tragedy they were walking so blindly towards.

Bartholomew

It was like someone pressed the mute button on an action scene. All of a sudden the sound cut out and so did his vision. He could feel hands holding his and a weird sort of pressure under his arms while his nearly bare feet dragged against broken ground. At least he was getting some much needed sleep.

He could die though. Starvation. He puked up his food not even 10 minutes ago and was already feeling the effects of deprivation.

All he could do was scold himself in his head.

Not like this.

Idiot, you should've just eaten something and stayed there.

Everything would have been fine if you had just stayed.

He couldn't feel his hands or feet. They'd gone numb. He was too busy lecturing himself than waking up and doing something.

Wait.

Am I dead? He thought.

Clarence

Veronica took out the gurgling father with ease. She had done it in the blink of an eye. She was clearly better than most and probably had proper training. Clarence had prayed to God she would be okay after almost being pummeled to death by the mother Barry had killed. How was she doing okay now? She showed no signs of any damage to her head. She might be heavily bruised the next day though, and feel sore all over. She made him feel safe.

Clarence's eyes took note of more adults that were grouping around from all sides. They all groaned and moved slowly. One man stood out. He was skinny, basically a bag of bones. He was hunched like the Disney character and moving suspiciously. Whispers interrupted his thinking, soft ones, sounding like his father's voice.

"Clarence," the voice sang his name very quietly in his head.

"Did you say my name?" Clarence asked Veronica.

"What? No." She looked at him and perked her eyebrow. "You good?"

"Yeah, I just thought I heard something," Clarence said, brushing off the sound.