Walking Amongst Them (Among Us, Book 2)

Raiders

There was no hesitation on anyone's part as we all collectively sank to our knees. Even Trish complied, looking horrified at the sudden turn of events. She was close enough to me that I could hear her when she muttered "raiders." I didn't know what it meant exactly, but I had a feeling that it had something to do with these men and their guns. The one with a scar across his face smiled as we followed orders.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," he laughed and looked to his partner.

His partner had hair that reminded me of Tucker's but a deeper shade of red. Almost rusty.

"Right, give us your weapons," red haired guy said, gripping Abby's arm tighter and making her give a little squeal of pain as he pressed the gun more firmly to her head. She whimpered, and it was that sound that broke the stillness of our group. Sam pushed forward his gun, and I was thankful that I'd left my bow on top of the car Beck and I had been next to. I'd taken it off and set it down.

Ben dropped the other gun onto the ground, and Trish took off several knives from her person, so many that I wondered where she'd gotten all of them, and how she could fit so many on herself.

"Now what?" Beck asked from my left side.

Scarface tilted his head pushed Michael forward, making him land face first in the dirt. The guy with the gun kept it trained on Michael.

"Pick up the weapons and hand them over."

Michael looked irate as he did, glancing at me only once in curiosity, as if he remembered about my bow and wondered where it was. When Michael had finished gathering the weapons he turned and offered them to the man with the scar. Scar face grabbed them and put them into a bag at his side, admiring the guns as he did so before he retrained the gun on Michael once more.

"Get up."

Michael snarled, but he stood up, eyes on his sister. The way the red haired man was holding her arm, she would surely have bruises. I wondered how the two men had been able to get them in such a position, but as I watched Abby, I realized it probably wouldn't have been hard to capture her and hold her against Michael until he submitted.

"Now turn around and face your friends. On your knees."

Michael did, looking pained as he complied. There were tears in his eyes as he slid another side glance to his sister. The man with the scar raised his gun to point at the back of Michael's head.

Everything was quiet. Our group, the two men, even Abby. The birds were no longer chirping, as if they too sensed danger.

Next to me, Clarke shook with silent tears, I could hear someone sniff behind me, but I wasn't sure who it was and I didn't dare look. Not when there were guns pointed at my friends and I didn't know exactly what was going on.

The man with the scar glanced at his friend, and they shared some silent communication before coming to an agreement. It seemed to me that the one with the scar was in charge, or maybe it was simply because he was doing most of the talking.

Either way they both turned back to the group, their little exchange only lasting a few quick seconds, and the redhead smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile though, not with his orange teeth and the way his eyes seemed to promise pain.

"We have a sniper in the woods trained on one of you, and if you move before time's up, one of you will die for it. Understood?"

Nobody moved and the man with the scar snarled, pushing the gun harder against Michael's head, "he asked a question."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do, and I noticed that Clarke was also nodding. Her lower lip trembled, and still she made no sounds.

What happened next was horrifying to watch.

The red head shoved Abby forward and fired off his gun. The bullet found its mark in the ground next to the young girl, and I couldn't tell if that was the intention or not. Immediately after the first gun was fired, the man with the scar shot his own gun, only this time the bullet went straight through Michael's back. Blood splattered towards the group, and I felt warmness on my face.

Abby screamed.

I flinched back, but Abby went to reach for Michael. Scarface waved his gun at her, "Ah ah-" he said, "wouldn't move if I were you. Might get someone else killed," he laughed, as if the thought brought him happiness.

Together the two men turned their backs on us and started walking away. "Ten minutes," the scar-faced man said over his shoulder at us, "and then you can move."

Leo, who had been growling the entire encounter, lunged for them. Luckily Sam had him under control and was able to calm him down. He continued to growl, but at the space that the two men had now left. They entered the trees and were soon gone.

"Do you think there's actually a sniper?" Adam asked, his voice shaking.

"Do you feel like risking it?" Trish snapped back.

Beck ignored them both and addressed Michael, who was bleeding profusely and laying on the ground moaning.

"Buddy, are you okay?"

Clarke reached out and intertwined her hand in mine. I squeezed her fingers, and she didn't let go. I wanted to reach out and help Michael. To pull Abby into my arms and reassure her. I wanted to turn around and assure myself that the rest of our little group was safe. That no one else had been shot.

But I didn't move. I counted to sixty ten times over in my brain, and waited a few more seconds after that. Michael groaned, and behind me, Adam swore. He shoved past Clarke and I, kneeling down next to his friend.

I remembered how Chester had explained that Adam and Ben were very protective over Michael, and wondered just how bad this was for them. For Abby, who was screaming as she looked at her brother.

The noise alone set me on edge, and as Clarke stood and ran over to Abby, I turned around and ran back for my bow. It took me a moment to locate the right car. During which I was panicking about what might be happening behind me, worried that they might think I'd left them behind and run away out of fear. I found the bow sitting on top of a car a few down from where I thought Beck and I had been.

When I returned to the scene, Adam and Ben were working together to get Michael standing. His face was contorted with pain and he grunted as they adjusted his weight between themselves. Sam was standing near them, trying to get a good look at the wound, and Clarke was holding Abby who was in a state of shock.

Trish was standing there, looking in the direction that the men had left to. "Raiders. Fucking raiders. You've got to be shitting me."

"What are raiders?" I asked, when nobody else did. Most of the others had busied themselves already. Besides, I wasn't so sure they didn't know what raiders were anyways.

"They're rogues, usually, who have a main purpose in life to mess shit up for other people. Instead of taking down zombies they'd rather take down fellow humans, for sport. They are the type of people who would hunt a group like us and wait until the right moment to strike. We're lucky they didn't actually kill anyone," she kicked a piece of trash and sighed. "You've never heard of a raider? Never encountered one?"

I was saved having to explain to her how the first several months of the apocalypse went for me by Sam who was looking at Michael's wound.

"It's not bad," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "we need to find shelter and get him bandaged up. Not really in that order."

"Here," Beck said as he passed over a bottle of pills, "it's not much but it'll help some."

Sam accepted the bottle and poured a few pills into his palm, turning to offer it to Michael.