Spero: A Post-Apocalyptic Short Story |COMPLETE| ✔

<TWELVE>

10:00
July 4, 2023
Day One~Hundred and Six

I stared out of the back window, and my pulse was steadily increasing.

The truck, with its distinct shininess and cleanliness, from Tyrese's obsessive keeping I'd have to say, stood out quite a bit.

I lifted my bloodied hands and Tyrese gave an irritable groan. For the moment, the wound was at bay, but this new development was anything but good for all of us.

My eyes darted out of the back window, and my eyes caught the glare of mid day sunshine glaring off of a bright vehicle. My eyes narrowed, scanning it for any similarities to the one I left in the field curled around the remains of a barbed wire fence.

Instead, the white 'car' was a white minivan that had seen much better days. The sides were scraped so that the silver metal of the strong frame was exposed.

Instead of continuing to drive by as I expected it to, it came to an abrupt halt as soon as the truck was in view.

I ground my teeth together in frustration and anticipation. I was not prepared for this at all. My blood-stained hands, while steady and unshaken, were buzzing with uneven energy, and my trigger finger twitched like the lips of a rabid dog.

My hands found their way to the holsters around my hips and down to the hilt of one of the long-necked pistols.

I glanced down at Tyrese who was in and out of consciousness. He looked to be out once again, and there was no better position for him to be in if a gun fight came to parry: flat on the seat and as far from harms way as he could get during the apocalypse.

I glanced at the gray tarp that separated me from Raina. I sighed, and began to speak through it to her calmly.

"Raina, I need you to get into the floor. I need you to get as close down to the floorboards as you can, and I need you to stay silent."

I exhaled, and my breath seemed five times louder in my ears due to the extreme pounding of my heart.

"Can you do that for me, Raina?"

My ears strained again my rushing blood to herd any sign of her response as the minivan slowly began to pull into the parking lot.

"Okay, I'm in the floor," a small, country voice responded.

I nodded to myself and breathed a sigh of relief before I slid my free left hand around the door handle of the rear left door. The minivan had now come to a stop, and the engine ominously sputtered like an unbalanced predator.

I pulled the handle to me, and slowly, I pushed the door open without so much as a click.

The truck itself was not running, and I was extremely cautious as I began to unfold myself from the large vehicle. I closed the door as lightly as possible without actually securing it. My booted feet tapped lightly onto the dirtied asphalt, and I crouched down so that I was sitting upon my own heels.

I maneuvered my way to sit in front of the nearest tire so that the approaching threat could not see my feet or body.

I breathed slowly and evenly; moreover I even counted the lengths between each exhale and intake of tainted air.

Slowly, with my right hand clenched around the handle of one of the pistols in my holsters, I lifted a weapon into the air.

The minivan's engine cut off, and my heart skipped.

My left hand curled around The remained of the handle underneath my right one as my right index finger rested right in front of the trigger.

I heard the profound slamming of a car door, and I slowly began to maneuver my way to the back of the truck.

A set of heavy feet hit the ground, and I could hear the smack they made upon the pavement. Whoever this person was, they weren't trying to be quiet about their arrival.

I snuck around the back of the truck, and I crouched with my head against the tailgate.

Footfalls began approaching the truck, and they weren't slowly at all. I narrowed my eyes as an image of Raina and Tyrese flashed through my mind. In an instant I was on my feet and marching straight towards whoever the stranger was; the idiot that decided to screw with my surviving people that was unprepared and alone.

My thumb found it's way to the hammer and tugged it back. The loud, satisfying click resonated, and finally the man saw me.

His familiar brown eyes widened as he saw me, and his caramel skin shown golden in the sunlight. His Afro hair was tangled and slightly matted with red blood that came from a minor gash on his forehead, but he was alive.

"Sper- Spero!"

My hand quivered above the pistols trigger as my training and protectiveness of the people in the truck battled my familiarity with the man.

Keaton.

I slightly lowered the weapon, and as I began to speak, a loud call echoed through the air.

"WOW! What a great job, Miguel! What an amazing job! You found the bastard that killed Lenny!"

A second man slid from the backseat of the tinted-window vehicle and began to approach with a weapon of his own raised. His face was bloody and bruised, and his right shoulder sagged as if it were dislocated.

"You found the man that took my new truck!"