Survival

Chapter 43 Departure

Cynthia stood outside the warehouse for a moment and watched as Mr. M drove his knee straight into Peyton's abdomen. The light-haired pacifist rolled onto the ground for a brief moment before he dug in his palms and pushed himself up.

"They have captured you now, bound your hands, and once they find out your identity, your wife will be in more danger."

Peyton breathed deeply and muttered a few words under his breath while he looked at an empty part of the park near the broken chain fence.

"Stand, we will try again," Mr. M said.

Mr. M came at him from behind. His right arm swung around Peyton's thin neck and his left came to close the lock. Peyton's breaths turned into wheezes. Cynthia waited in case his face started to blue. His elbows jabbed back erratically in a search of sensitive sections of his attacker. Even with contact, Mr. M's firm stomach offered too much resistance for Peyton's elbows to have an effect. His face grew redder, and he stomped his heel on Mr. M's foot.

"That might keep you alive for an extra minute or two, if your assailant does not have the authority to snap your neck." Mr. M released his hold and Peyton's hand went straight to his newly freed neck. "You have to use that opportunity to inflict more damage and then flee."

"Wouldn't they want to kill me?"

"Not necessarily. Until they are proved otherwise, another life post-disaster is an asset. If you somehow manage to get yourself into the facility, it will be more likely for them to kill you during an escape." Mr. M positioned himself in front of Peyton. "Attack me just as I have done to you."

Peyton slowly secured Mr. M's neck between his biceps and forearm. As he tried to bring the other arm around, Mr. M grabbed it and loosened the other one by shrugging his shoulders. In a quick motion, he bent down and threw Peyton onto the grass.

Cynthia had to blink twice before she let out a gasp. Both men turned toward her. Mr. M wasted no time helping Peyton off the ground and dusting off his back.

"Cynthia, what are you doing here?" Mr. M's brows creased and he tried to tuck his hands in the non-existent pockets in his shorts. His posture slumped slightly.

"I figured training exercises could use a nurse on hand more than anything else. I came to make sure my services aren't needed."

She was also quite bored. At the moment, Winston and his friends were off playing games. Vita had a kitchen shift and the facility managed well enough without her help for now. There wasn't much she could do without medicines. She could help clean and dress wounds, but most old injuries had healed by this point.

"We are being most careful," Mr. M said with a gentle smile. "I can show you too, should you ever have to defend yourself."

Without John around, the idea appealed to her. She had always relied on words, wit and the occasional weapon to get her out of a tough spot. If she and Winston ever were threatened, she would kick herself for passing up an opportunity like this.

Mr. M showed the move a couple more times with Peyton before they switched roles. Despite the slight height difference and larger weight difference, Peyton still managed to pivot Mr. M's body on his hip, drop his own shoulder toward the ground and propel the man forward.

"Cynthia, can Peyton attempt to flip you in case his assailant is smaller than he is?"

"Sure," Cynthia answered as she eyed the grass for any type of debris.

"It's soft after the second time, don't worry," Peyton assured her. His eyes shot over to the same empty spot he had eyed the whole session.

As she attempted to choke Peyton, Mr. M placed a calloused hand on her elbow to tighten the hold. "His assailants will not be gentle, nor should you."