Becoming Them: A Zombie Novel

Six

     Vic ordered a man named Quentin to take me while he led the rest of the men outside. Quentin strolled over to me, a cigarette hanging out of his thin lips which filled the room with a cloud of hazy smoke. His arms were heavily muscular, veiled in a thin leather jacket suited with leather pants and black boots. He sent a smirk my way before clutching onto my forearm, roughly pulling me to my feet. My whole body still pained. I sent him a deathly glare to insinuate my discomfort, but he clearly couldn't care less.  

     By then, the rest of the men had gathered out in the cold air, me and Quentin following soon afterwards. I looked toward my left before I could even think twice about it. Caleb's body lay lifeless on the bench, his eyes remaining open, his arms scattered messily on the cold, wooden seats. Blood covered his face, arms, legs. Blood trickled out from every limb, coming down in one direction to make one trail. Seeing him would definitely haunt my dreams.

     "Move it," Quentin ordered, pushing me roughly by my arm.

     "Ow." I held myself back from uttering anything to provoke him to handle me any more violently. I've never sworn in my life either. I wasn't going to start now, but sometimes people just nearly push me over the edge. People like Quentin.

     The men loaded our food into their cars, laughing and talking with each other, no sign of guilt in any of their expressions. They were simply heartless.

     Quentin held me to his side, his nails clawing into my skin any time he felt like it. We waited for the men to finish filling their cars with our precious food. Before long, they'd place themselves in, shoving me inside, too, and I'd be taken away once again. Only this time I doubted they'd treat me as well.

     A shiver came over me. The wind was picking up. The trees on the other side of the road rustled their branches and leaves heavily, the noise loud. Looking closely, a flicker of light sparkled, reflecting the sun's bright flame, and I wondered what that was. I squinted my eyes, curious. It seemed like the reflection of a piece of glass caused the light, but it had gone as quickly as it had come.

     Soon afterwards, a gunshot rang from a distance away, making the men jump. Not even a second later did the bullet pierce through Quentin's eye, his grip on my arm loosening as he fell to the floor, his body limp, blood spurting out of his eye socket like a fountain.

     The men looked at Quentin in awe, hurriedly picking up their rifles and pointing in the direction of the trees.

     "Who's there?" Vic screamed after cocking his gun, ready to put a bullet through the person responsible for the death of one of his trusty men.

     No one replied. Who would? I thought.

     A man near me quickly restrained me, seeing as I was free. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he kept staring at Quentin. His mouth was open, no sound coming out. He clearly feared death, yet had no trouble inflicting his wrath upon others. I didn't feel sorry for him at all.

     Another shot rang in everyone's ears as a bullet flew through the air towards the man holding me, effectively carving a hole through his forehead and making him fall to the ground.

     The men looked at me in confusion, then finally got the memo. They couldn't come near me unless they, too, wanted a bullet through the brain.

     I stepped back slightly, but Vic caught me in his sights.

     "Hey, don't you move," he warned, aiming the gun at me.

     I stopped in my tracks, pulling my arms up in surrender, even though I knew I was safe, already aware of who hid beyond those trees. I couldn't help the small smile breaking out onto my face.