Book 2: Children of Violence
Cristine her heart thumped. She could hear blood passing through her ears - thump, thump, thump-and looking down saw her red coated chest moving up and down. She even tasted textured meat that was never meant to be chew...
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The search was shrouded in silence, the minimal of communication done through hand and head gestures. Cristine walked a few paces behind Troy and Cooper through the deserted woodland. The two were the trackers, so it was only logical they lead.
Occasionally, the group paused on Troy's signal and the sound of their own footfalls fell silent. All that could be heard was the faint susurration of the leaves in the gusty wind.
Looking up, Cristine was transfixed by the bundle of fluttering leaves that danced in the high boughs, making a living roof above them. But she neither calmed or hypnotized by the scenery. In fact, the longer she stared the more the leaves looked like eyes staring back at her and the branches seemed to draw closer like arms, blocking the view as if they were forming a cage.
Cristine's knuckles tightened around the rifle. It felt like her frazzled nerves wanted to jump out all at once. But then the aches in her body brought her back to the real world and even seemed to sharpen her dwindled focus.
Thick trees flanked them from every angle. While it gave the group of six something of a security, it hindered the visibility too.
Footsteps cracked through the twigs on the forest floor. Four out of six riffles turned in sync in the direction of the sound. Cristine narrowed her gaze and winced at the position she had to maintain to keep her weapon up. She saw Troy turn. Looked into her eyes, but it was brief as he glanced at the rest.
He made a simple hand signal.
Groups of two and surround.
Cristine carefully slithered around in a half arc, met with Blake and gave her a nod. She followed him, passed Mike and Willy as the pair settled at a nearby tree, just around the shrubbery they heard the sound from. Cristine pressed the side of her body into tree bark and took her pose: arms raised, weapon close, and vision locked.
Cristine squinted. A lump bobbed in her throat. She exhaled just once. The rest took their positions. Waited like hunters ready to pounce on their prey.
Cooper looked at Troy for approval. For him to give him the go. For a moment it looked like Troy was trying to peak through the trees and shrubs. By now he was used to the mantle of responsibility. Been that way since the world collapsed two months ago. Really, it was impossible to believe it'd only been two months since the dead started walking.
The same sound cracked through the trees.
Troy gave Cooper the okay with a silent nod.
Cooper walked through and Troy followed. His grip on the semi-automatic in his hands. Not only was he one of the best shooters - a handy advantage in the post-apocalyptic world - he learned to survive when he was younger, hunt by himself in his teens with the Ranch as his playground. A world like now was sort of his natural habitat.
For once, everyone else had to sprint to keep up with him.
The two waded away from the four. Crunched through fallen twigs and leaves. Troy glanced at the rear view of Coop, and saw the quick flurry of clothes and a body.
