50 Miles

Chapter 2

"What are you doing wasting ammo like that you idiot?"

"I didn't waste it, I know they're in there. This is the only house for miles."

"Are you sure they're in there?"

"Of course they are. We just have to go in there and finish the job."

"You know he'll get mad if we don't catch em'. He'll probably make you jump in the boiler if we don't."

"That's why we're going to or your dead meat walking."

"Hey, why me?"

"Stop talking both of you!"

"What if we don't get them!?!"

"Shut up! Why you so loud!?!"

"You're the one yelling!

This is what I here as my brother and I crouch, not daring to make a sound. How could they have caught up with us so quickly, I think, my mind racing with the possibilities and outcomes of this "sticky situation". I reach out for my gun but Thomas shakes his head. He motions towards the bow and I immediately find arrows in my backpack.

A stealth weapon over something noisy. What would I do without him? Oh, you know what would happen, Alex, I think to myself as my hands shake with something. Not quite fear, but something else. Rhymes with Lie.

I hand them over to him.

"You're a better shot," I whisper as quietly as a human can speak which is probably why he looked confused for a second but quickly caught on and took the bow and my stack of arrows. There was a window just outside the living room which was across from where we were hiding which was behind an old, dirty, sofa.

I heard the ever so slightly creak of footsteps and heavy breathing trying to be contained. They ran all the way here. We should have known. Instead, we were over here hugging each other like we just won the lottery.

Stupid Alex. Stupid, poor, young, naive Alex.

The first guy who attempted to tiptoe in had a long, dirty beard. He had dark circles under his eyes as everyone in the world had these days. He was holding a massive AK 47, the standard weapon for military spies. Mostly used to give us kids a little more of an . . .  incentive to come with them.

But they have no problem pulling the trigger.

The second guy comes in after with glasses and a red open gash along the side of his left cheek. Dirty Beard and Glasses go in opposite directions, one going to the left where the kitchen is and the other going to the right where the bedrooms are. The only thing keeping us alive is the dirty, stinky, ratchet, nasty, gross, ugly, cheap couch.

And let's just say, I don't think a couch, especially this one, can save us now.

The last guy comes in through the door. He seems old yet looks young. Tall yet short. Fat and skinny at the same time. But he is 100% capital A ugly.

Don't ask just trust me on this okay?

You'll never believe this. He looks in the living room. I put my head back behind the couch and start to panic. Is this how it ends? I never got to do all the things I wanted to do. I never even made it to Hollow Hill. We never made it to Hollow Hill. No, it can't be over.

The footsteps become closer. Every breath I take, I hear a loud boot on the rotting wood. Just as I see the outline of a shadow, I hear a thud, and then a splatter, then a thump. I look over and see 100% (cool nickname right?) bleeding from his head and big brown eyes seeming to be gauging out of his head. And an arrow in his forehead. Thomas looks to his left then right and grabs his ankles. He looks at me and mouths "Help me". I look frantically around the corner to the kitchen and sure enough, Dirty Beard is done looking for us and rummaging through all the cabinets and broken cupboards and finding nothing more than gross insects.