Apocalypse Dreams

Shot

"Now son, I'm going to teach you how to shoot," Brock said while looking a little irritated. "You wanted to learn, so here's your chance." He handed Red, a fifteen-year-old a pistol, while Jack stared anxiously from behind him. Red held it and felt the weight bringing his hand down.

"Um," Red began. "I don't know if I want to anymore."

"C'mon," Brock said. "You have been nagging me all year. Here's your chance."

"Is it hard?" Red asked slowly.

"See, now you don't actually want to do it," Brock said. "You're lucky I'm a police officer and I can knock some sense in you, otherwise, you'd end up on the streets."

"I tried to tell him that it's bad," Jack spoke softly.

"Just realize, Red, that this is a major responsibility," Brock said. "You can really kill someone with it. You may not think about it, but what if you hurt some innocent guy. Not even an adult... you can just as easily hurt a boy about your age."

"You're right," Brock said. "And I would never hurt an innocent kid in my life."

"I apologize for being too harsh on you, Red," Brock said while adjusting his height just enough to face Red at his eye level. "The day you do not use it wisely and you end up killing a kid, is the day that you have lost all values."

"What about bad people?" Red asked.

"Like the ones who try to hurt you," Jack added.

"Well..." Brock stuttered. "I guess that would be self-defense. But a kid's life is precious. They are not bad people... they just get influenced by adults and by the time they grow up... they have a hard time going back to normal. Like you guys, you're still developing and learning from right and wrong."

"I guess that makes sense," Red said while giving the weapon back to Brock, who put it in his beige-colored shorts side pocket. "Guess I'll never really need a gun."

I chuckled a little and said, "yeah that last line is ironic."

"Right?" Red said while adjusting on the sofa. His face still lacked any clear expressions of enthusiasm as it hadn't been twelve hours since the death of Cady.

"It sucks what happened to Cady," I said.

"Yeah," Red replied while staring at the wall behind me. "We were looking forward to getting married too."

"Red, I have something to tell you," I said. "I think I'm infected."

"Have you told anyone else?" Red asked after a long pause.

"No," I replied. "That's why I'm optimistic about Baton Rouge... but they will probably find out about it and kill me."

"Is the wound healed?" Red asked.

"Almost," I replied while realizing that the pain was slowly vanishing, however, I kept asking for painkillers every four to six hours.

"They'll think it's some sort of injury,' Red said. "Also, it should be good by then... hopefully."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe you're right."

"Hey, I'm here for you," Red said, still lacking any sort of human-like expressions. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

I sat down across from him on the sofa and relaxed a little. The entire room was untidy due to various amounts of clothes and other materials thrown violently around the living room. That wasn't caused by us, however. The broken door, though, that was us. Gold and diamond jewelry, recognizable hair and skin products, weapons such as axes and guns also lay on the clothing pile. It seemed like the people who previously lived here were all in a hurry to leave, and eventually had to leave many of the things behind.