Who We Were | Book One

6. The Herd

"Hardest thing people have to do now is decide what to leave behind and what to take with them," he announced as I descended the stairs. 

He opened cupboards one after the other, only glancing briefly inside before moving onto the next one. "You never know what's going to save your life."

"Why are you still here?" I glared at the boy who now rested lazily against the kitchen sink as my feet brushed the last few steps. 

The strap of his weapon crossed his body and lay against his back, peeking out from over his shoulder. In his hand, he held an open bottle of vodka and two glasses that I knew had been stashed away in one of the cupboards.

"I told you to leave," I said grabbing the bottle from him and taking a swig. The sharp liquid burned my throat, but it was a good enough distraction.

His brows raised as he watched the bottle, his eyes then wandering to my other hand. The silver revolver was now tucked into the back of my waistband, covered by my jacket. 

"And I told you there was a herd outside..." He stated as I took another drink. "By all means, point your gun at me if it helps you relax."

I narrowed my eyes, putting the bottle down on the table. "You do realise I could still shoot you?"

He lifted his shoulders. "You didn't do it the first time you had the chance, so I doubt it." 

I watched him as he dropped his rucksack from his shoulders to the tile floor, pulling out one of the wooden chairs that surrounded the kitchen table. He slouched as he grabbed the vodka and pressed the bottle to his lips.

"Go ahead. Make yourself at home," I scowled, "but I'm leaving." I turned on my heels and retraced my steps back into the narrow hallway.

He scoffed, swallowing a mouthful. "What are you? Suicidal?"

I paused; my eyes focused on the front door. "Quite possibly."

I heard the chair scrape against the tiles, and I turned around to see the boy standing at the end of the hallway, ready for action if I opened the door. "Look, I don't know if you've been living under a rock, but that herd is still around... Plus, if you are trying to die, that's a really bad way to go. Take it from someone who knows."

I clicked my tongue in frustration as I peered into the small fogged window. It was the first time I'd seen so many of them up close. He was right. A hundred stumbling figures were meandering the road, tattered clothing and intestines dragging behind them on the tarmac. 

I turned back to him, my eyes a hard stare as he held his hands up defensively. 

"I didn't bring them here," he said.

"Great," I muttered, stepping past him and back into the kitchen. "Just the place I wanted to be stuck."

"Relax," he raised his eyebrows as he flopped back into the chair. "Take a seat... Have another drink. You look like you need more than a shot." 

His eyes wandered my anxious form up and down as I threw my backpack to the floor and landed on the seat opposite him. He pushed the bottle towards me, an eyebrow raised as he looked up. 

The silence that fell was the only answer he needed before he pulled it back and emptied the clear liquid into his mouth. "Sorry," he announced, landing the bottle back on the table. "I'd hate to see it go to waste." I cocked my head in displeasure as my leg twitched underneath the table. "Where're you heading anyway?" He questioned.

"Hell, hopefully," I said dismissively. "It'll be better than here."

"Oh good," he leant back against the chair. "That makes two of us."