Southern Kind Of Love

Chapter 5

TRIGGERS: gunfire.

"I'll be in touch," Lucas sneered, muttering to himself as he grabbed his board from where it leaned on the front door. "I'll be in touch, kitten." He imitated her country drawl, words harsh, but heart aching.

It had taken him a week before he could run, and that was when he deemed himself fit for school again. This was going to be Lucas' first day back, and somehow, he didn't think that Ashe was going to be leaning on the fence today. She hadn't made any appearances, much to his disappointment. Not even a single damn note or text.

He grabbed his backpack and started off on your skateboard, earbuds in, music turned up all the way. Lucas was maybe two miles from his ranch, and another four until town when the explosion hit him. Well, not him. Right next to him. But it still hurt.

He was thrown off his board, it skidding away from him with a harsh screech. There was a ringing in his ears, but he was proud to say he got back up quick enough, although slightly unsteady on his feet. The first thing he saw was smoke from the explosion, but once that cleared, he had to duck and run forward, afraid of getting hit by one of the rapid-fire bullets that thudded into the ground all around him. Lucas cursed, realizing that the shooters either couldn't see him through all the smoke, or they didn't care.

He made a beeline toward a cluster of rocks, where a small group of people crouched, throwing grenades and shooting round after round back. There was a wagon nearby full of all kinds of guns and ammunition. He thudded down on the ground next to them, noticing when they all stared at him that they wore a blue bandanna with the word 'Wildflowers' on them.

He grabbed two rifles off the cart, and peered around cautiously. They still stared at him.

"Who're you?" One of them asked, the boy closest to him.

"Doesn't matter," Lucas replied. "Who are we fightin'?"

The boy looked helplessly toward a taller member, who shrugged, and huffed a dry laugh. "We need all the help we can get against Deadshot."

"Deadshot?" Lucas questioned, feeling a sinkin' feeling in his gut. They all nodded.

He recalled the faded brown bandanna that Ashe had kept tucked into her back pocket of her jeans, and sighed. DEADSHOT, it had read.

"Well, boys, it's been a real treat, but I'm not with y'all." Lucas cocked the guns and shot two in the leg, one in the arm, and another in the side. They all screamed with pain. Yeah. He knew how that felt. Not fatal wounds, but enough to keep them down. As he got up and began running back to his skateboard, he fired off a few more rounds, finishing off the other members camped out a couple meters away.

The rounds from Deadshot stopped when no one shot back, and Lucas moved frantically, trying not to get caught and brought to a gang where one of the members was clearly regretting even looking at him. Why else would Ashe just abandon him like this?

He managed to skate away and hunch his shoulders down as soon as the first soldier burst through the flames and smoke. They shot one bullet before there was a shout of other orders.

Back in the high ridges of the canyon, Ashe watched the figure go. She knew that soft brown hair, and that button-up shirt that Ashe herself had left at his place. Ashe's eyes narrowed in anger.

(enjoy -gray)