Painted Maroon

Chapter 1 - The Not-So-Calm Before the Storm.

1

Jakk was still digging his blood covered, scarred with dirt hands through the barrel that had just had it's fire die down to a pile of ashes when it happened. The sound of a gunshot cracked and two more followed. It took him almost a brainless two seconds to notice. His mind was already spinning enough and fright as well as the worry of not being able to find food wasn't helping his situation. He was camped out in the backyard of a small cottage out in literally the middle of nowhere. There were lots of trees and some hilly terrain around but the fog didnt help sight to see them. The barrel was still crackling with dull embers that were sinking their way down to the bottom of the red barrel that Jakk was desperately searching for food in. 'Its not worth it' he thought to himself as another much louder and much longer lasting shot smacked the air miles away. He lay down, his head placed uncomfortably on the edge of the barrel so it wouldn't slide down while his thoughts faded out. There were no more gunshots that night and Jakk fell into the void of sleep, where no dreams could be let into the gates of his now broken mind.

"Ron, there, that was our camp. Wasn't it?" Lauren didnt speak much, but she did when she know that what she was saying was important. "Hell if I know" Ron lowered his head but raised his gun. It was a traditional double barrel shotgun. The barrels weren't sawed short and it would pound a man to a wall even if he was standing more than five metres away from one. The ash particles seemed to roam the sky as Lauren and Ron attempted to make their way into this wasteland-of-a backyard. Ron saw the man first and immediately pointed the iron sights of his gun right to that man's head. "Search his pack" he whispered to Lauren who immediately crept around the sturdy figure of Ron and down to the front of the man resting on the barrel. She quickly unzipped his small backpack and rummaged through his supplies. She had learnt that quicker wasnt always silenter, but at least you could do more before they awoke.

Searching through someone's stuff while they were awake wasn't new to this Manchester girl. "Barely anything worth taking" her voice wasn't used to whispering and it cracked on every second word. The ice cold fog from her mouth followed into the ash dense air. "Well, what is there anyway?" Ron's voice couldn't handle the effort into making his speech silent so it came out like a normal tone. The man on the barrel moved a bit, just enough to give Lauren a scare. "shi-" "shhhh" Ron followed, cutting into her curse with his commandment to stay quiet. The man snorted a bit. Fog left his noise as If it had finally escaped the prison that was this man's body. Ron crept over to Lauren and, more aggressively, went through the pack. "Goddamnit Lauren do you realise that everything in this-" he turned to look at her with a face of anger, but her eyes staring into the man's eyes as if looking into his soul turned Ron's face from anger to guilt. "condition" he continued "is worth taking". His voice had completely given up, and the man was moving just a tiny bit every few seconds. Ron gave a heavy sigh and got up, holding out his hand for Lauren to get up too. Lauren took an empty can and what looked like a water bottle from the man's pack. She shook the bottle and the liquid inside it slushed around. There wasn't much in there. She grabbed Ron's hand with a strong grip and looked up at him. He pulled her up as if no effort was involved and then also pulled things out of the man's backpack. They packed a few miscellaneous things into their own packs and continued on into the house that this backyard was attached to.

The door on the cottage was rusty and dirty. Not rusty as in fifty years old but rusty as in so much blood, dirt and gunk had swallowed the handle that it was struggling to stay together. Lauren hesitated to put her hand on it after seeing how worn it was. She knew that hundreds of men probably passed this house before her and hundreds more had gone in to scavenge it's owner's supplies. "What's wrong?" Ron exclaimed after seeing Lauren turn her cheek away from the door. "Its...nothing" she forced a smile but didnt face him enough for him to see it. Her hand reached over to the door and lay on the handle with more confidence this time. She knew that this could cause her infection. She knew that her blood and skin would forever be on this handle from the cuts and marks in her hands. The handle turned, and as it turned it seemed to hit a bump on it's rotation. Lauren pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside.

It was dark. So dark that she had tripped several times before making it through the entrance hallway and into the kitchen that was ahead. She fumbled her fingers around on the wall while stumbling through to look for a switch. Her fingers finally hit a small wedge on the wall and she pressed into it, as the ceiling lit up and the hallway glowed. Ron had waited outside seeing how dark it was, so now seeing the illuminance of the room, he stepped inside and looked around at the carpet floor which was littered with scraps. He stepped over each piece carefully and stood next to Lauren who was now in the kitchen. "Ron, I don't like this" Lauren said, pressing another switch to send that glow from the hallway into the kitchen to duplicate it's power. "I don't care what you li-" Lauren turned and looked into his eyes, knowing how his temper affected him. "Sorry, Lauren". Probably the only reason he included her name in that statement was because he knew how his anger could scare her and he genuinely felt sorry and worried of how he could hurt her...he had already hurt her anyway. Lauren returned her position to face the cupboards and started searching through them. "What is there?" Ron asked, and Lauren was surprised as to how he still thought he had the right to speak to her so lacking of respect. "Cans...cutlery...um-" her eyes set on a rather large kitchen knife that she had just spotted sitting in the cupboard almost alone. "I'll take the cans" she said, and took the three cans of food into her hands and over her shoulder into her backpack, unzipping it with the two fingers that weren't already bring used. Ron put his hand on her shoulder and stepped forward. She shut the cupboard and moved away, missing out on her opportunity to seize a weapon.

In a situation like this, anyone could betray you. She knew that after the war of nations around the world that struggled to survive against the infected, there wasn't much left. She was young and didnt quite know what world war three (or world war z, as she preferred to call it) would be fought with but she knew that any war after that would be fought with sticks and stones. All was lost. There was no hope on this earth anymore. Humans would end in extinction within the next few months. But still, they continued to go from house to house scavenging for materials to protect them or help them stay healthy. They weren't soldiers. Even the soldiers weren't soldiers anymore. They were survivors. Bandits or heroes, they were survivors.