||Series Removed|| OTB

8 - Bad Hair Day

8

"Disguises?" Tomás and I asked in eerie synchronisation as Alisha nodded. It was all I could do to stifle my yawn from the others, having barely slept at all the previous night.

The beating sun was already at mid-day, and we had stopped outside a rustic hairdresser's shop at the school teacher's insistence. Glancing over us both with visible concern, we couldn't understand her distress until she provided an explanation.

"I'm not in any danger of being recognised by anyone... but the two of you, including Beth, have your faces on these wanted posters that claim that you're terrorists from the fake group 'Apollyon'."

She paused for a second, letting the danger sink in. "I knew better than to take Telos' word for it, but those bandits back in Tomás' bar didn't even stop to question whether or not it was true. If Stacie's right about that survivor town ahead, then we need to make sure that no one can identify you from the pictures."

Agreeing with her words, we both turned hesitantly to the shop in front of us and sighed at the same time. Tomás eyed the wanted poster suspiciously, the one that referred to him as 'Thomas The Terrible'. Out of every western nickname we'd been assigned, that one was the most butchered.

"Man, I hate seeing that stupid thing. Don't suppose that the TMD do reprints on request?" The musician flipped his sunglasses down, and took the first step forward towards the row of stores. "Well, whatever... let's get this over with, bro. 'Extreme Makeover', Found style."

The hovering bell rung as we entered the shop's door, showering about a dozen layers of dust down onto our heads. It was likely that we were the first customers since the outbreak...

The surrounding furniture was as expected; stray magazines were scattered around the waiting area at the entrance, further ahead around four comfortably-worn chairs had been positioned in front of mirrors.

The reflection was plastered with grime and spider webs, to the point where you couldn't see any light being cast within at all.

Clutching the monkey wrench that I'd swiped from Harold's workshop, I had anticipated that the noise of our entry would bring something hurtling our way in the first few seconds. As a dark shadow rose up from one of the hairdresser's seats, I readied my arms and charged into the Lost figure before it could fully rouse itself.

The creature's face was bashed in by my weapon with incredible ease, the indentation dribbled only slightly with thick oozing blood. Two more strikes, and it was down for good... although the attack hadn't gone unnoticed.

Several hisses and groans echoed from the backroom, and Alisha raised her hand as she claimed the responsibility of checking it out first. I kept my arm around Beth and the other two girls, in case something came thrashing towards us abruptly.

As the teacher pulled a silenced pistol out of the weapon-filled holdall that she always carried, I caught her limping slightly as she disappeared behind the curtain. Before I could say anything on the matter though, two bursts of wind popped effortlessly from the darkened hallway and she came back through like nothing had even happened.

Nodding at the clearance, I lifted the Lost that I'd dispatched and threw the corpse into the corner, taking his bloodied seat in order to wipe away the clutter that was stuck to the mirror.

"So, what did you guys have in mind, hair braids? Sunhats? I'm not wearing any make-up, that's for sure..."

Beth jumped up on my knees and stared at the circular pattern I'd made in the glass around our faces, also wondering what could be done to mask my identity. "Hmm... Why don't we give you a haircut? The fuzzy beard's fine, because you don't have that in the photo Miss Flynn showed us..."