Salvation

VIII

            Before I could even process what was happening, Easton was dragging me into a closet. My boots clomped against the floor as I ungracefully stumbled behind him as he insistently pulled at me. The door was pulled shut and his hand was clamped over my mouth before I could curse him out for touching me.

I reared forward, ready to slam my head back against his but stopped when a shadow could be seen. I help my own breath; Easton's shallow breaths were hitting the shell of my ear as we watched a man walk into view from beneath the slits in the door.

He looked frantic as he turned in his spot, looking for what could have made all the noise that we had made. The bag on his back was bulging, a simple kitchen knife in his hands before he turned, bolting out of the door we had just come from.

Easton and I were both silent for a moment, the only sound to be heard was our harsh breaths filling the small space before he shoved me forward. I fell to the ground as the force of his push wrenched the door open. My bat was off to the side as I dragged myself off the ground.

Easton didn't look back as he quickly ran out of the house, leaving the door open behind him in his haste to leave. Scrambling off the ground, I snatched my bat and took off after him making sure to slam the door behind me.

"Easton!" I hissed his name as he sprinted in front of me, desperate to keep the trail of the man.

I didn't understand why we were chasing this man. We should have just stayed in the house, he had left in an obvious rush to get out. This is stupid, the sun has gone, and we were off chasing some mad man.

I knew that Easton was always stupid, but I didn't expect him to be so damn reckless.

This was supposed to be my trip to the mainland, not Easton trying to kill us every chance he got. As soon as I figure out why he is chasing this man, I am leaving. This trip is supposed to be about me, not babysitting an intolerable man-boy.

I could hear the shouting coming from in front of me, my legs pumped faster. The sore muscles screaming as the adrenaline over won the fight and pushed us faster.

I crashed into the small clearing, twigs in my hair and tiny scrapes on my face from the unforgiving trees that I pushed past to get here. I was worried that all the noise would attract biters. I paused at the sight before me though.

Easton had the man with a knife to his throat, the man with a ballcap on his head was on his knees as he would have easily been taller than Easton was if he were standing up. His clothes were ripped and torn in a multitude of places, a pile of similar-looking clothes sat next to a needle and thread. A half-finished stitch going through a small pair of pants.

My eyes turned to the sight of two young boys silently crying, tears streaming down their faces as they watched their father on his knees with a stranger holding a weapon to his throat.

They were both equally dirty, the younger of the two sat on his knees as he held the older one's hand. The older of the two with dark brown eyes laid under a pile of blankets. His skin is pallid as he was violently sweating. The dark bags under his eyes showed the lack of sleep and his skin sticking to his harsh cheekbones proved that he couldn't keep anything down.