A Yellow Dress Forgotten [ABANDONED]

Ep. 2.3 | Dragon's Breath || 9.2k

There once was a station wagon. Left open. The lights on. Its ring loud in the night. The group flocked to it—hungry, cold, tired. And after the hell's paradise they just left, it was like a diamond had grown in the place of weeds...

Clementine stalked, weaving in between the pines. Ever since the New Frontier had shunted her away, she roamed her pathways like clockwork. She searched for anything to eat, cook, hunt, or drink. Only a few weeks had passed, and already it was habitual. Clementine was a panther, circulating her territory.

And anybody who'd cross it—anybody at all—she would, well... Like any hunter, she would strike.

They had argued. About the car, with all of its resources served as a wealthy buffet. Clothes. Food. Water. Blankets. Books. Camping gear. Batteries and flashlights. So. Many. Things. And it all goaded the group, whispering in their ears that nobody was around. Nobody was there to have them shy away from their abrupt gift. Nobody at all...

Clementine crouched and rested her shotgun against the trunk of an old tree, scanning through the bushes. She watched the people wander. She heard their anxious curiosity as they stumbled in the clearing.

With the flask in her hand, Clementine inhaled a swig. This was going to be easy. Those girls were perfect. She eyed the pregnant backpack that one of them carried, completely overstuffed by so. Many. Things.

She stashed the flask away, snatched the shotgun, and made her move.

Except, two stood on the outskirts as the rest of the group—giddy and joyous—pawed their new-found prize. Side-by-side, together, they rejected such a gift. Her hand was joined with his, and she watched a snug red hoodie slip out from the trunk to be examined. She turned away from the unsure gaze sent in her direction, second-guessing the girl's adamant decision.

There was no way the little girl would ransack that car. She watched the scene, uncomfortable, with the hazel sun in her eyes. Every fiber in her being willed her against it...

Eyes of hellfire didn't break from the pair as Clementine stepped out into the clearing, gun cocked. Both had their backs turned, oblivious and instead primed with confusion. She didn't give a flying fuck if they were lost; the stupid girls were in her web now.

Clementine raised the barrel and hissed, "Don't. Move."

The girls both froze, unnerved. The rough patches of dirt crunched underneath Clementine's boots as she paced forward, her gaze unmoving. Her voice sliced through the air, and it sent charged shivers down their spines: "Keep your eyes up and out."

The taller one—with raven hair pulled into a tight bun—twisted around. She snarled, "I don't think so, you bitch!"

The girl was fast, though the barrel of Clementine's shotgun was faster; before she could even raise her revolver, Clementine sent her straight to the earth with a clobber to the jaw—the speed of a viper's.

For several days, she was questioned about it. The man who stood beside her didn't, of course, but the rest most certainly did. It wasn't like she could avoid the food they ate, nor the water they drank, but she could pass the blankets and towels and jackets.

The ring of the car doors still looped in her thoughts. She tried to draw, just to keep it at bay. Though, with all of their questions, it was no use. It was a constant thought.

They shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have done it. People would be destroyed—and the man of the station wagon was...

"JANET!" the other girl screamed.