( PS hold on with me, The hubby still has to edit this and chapters 1-3 there’s just been so much going on)
The joker’s on the left of me, the vulture’s on my right
It seems to me that there’s no end in sight
My quiet den is crowded with the screams of rescue me
But I am hoping no one else will see
Zebra & Giraffe – A Long Way Down
Peter Cunning, watches as his best friend is knocked against the metal gate and in the same instance pushed the gate down hard, that the lock clicks in place. He watches helplessly as his friend then runs off, two of the freaks behind him. He heard the little girl, they had fond earlier, cry. She had hurt herself when Kenneth shoved her down and Claire pulled her into the safety of the building.
Kenneth had risked his life to spear there’s.
Angrily he slam the spade in his hand against the gate, the freaks groining, trying to get in, unfazed by his out burst. He slams again, scraping the edge of the spade hard enough that some of the freaks finger’s that was sticking through the holes got cut off. He spit at them and slams the spade again and again.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and angrily tears away.
“Hey!” she shouts, “Calm down!”
He spins around, spit flying as he speaks “Fuck you!”
Baily blinks at him and takes a step back.
“Pete, pleas calm down,” came Claire’s voice, still clinging on to the little girl, comforting her.
“Fuck all of you white mother fuckers!”
He started passing back and forth. Knowing both girls and the little one was becoming little worried or scared of him whichever he didn’t care.
“Its all your faults, first Kenneth with his stuck up, pissed of attitude with wanting to get closer with dead mother fucking fag-hore-boyfriend, then you bitches want to feed the kid now fucking look at as, and you mother fuckers!” He slammed against the gate again. “You’re case of all of this, it your faults,” he kept slamming harder against the gate only making the freaks more agitated in response.
“Yours! Now he’s GONE!” with one last slam of the spade against the gate so hard sparks flew and the handle snapped, splitting the wooden stick in two. The metal part rattling loudly when it hit the ground. The little girl kept crying and Peter could feel them to. His own tears burning in his eyes and running down his face.
Kenneth, the white South African guy. The first white guy that treated him as an equal, that treated him like the brother he never had, was gone.
“Are you done?!” Claire’s angry tone didn’t matched his, how could It. She didn’t lose what he had lost.
He just wiped at his eyes yet they still kept coming and he couldn’t keep it back any loner as he fell right there where he stood. His body shook in the sob that escaped his mouth turning into hysterical shake and crying. It felt like that day so long ago yet still so fresh in his memories.
The call came at half past four that after noon. A police women spoke, and at first he thought he was in some deep shit but when she asked him to come down to the station and identify his parents bodies he knew nothing could prepare him for what was to come. He did go down and he did identify them, his father by the watch on his wrist and his mother by the ring on her finger, there was nothing else to be identified. The car that had burst into flames, the heat so intense, he could not see there faces between the skin and flesh. The image hunts him still. And yet now again the only family he had was ripped from his life leaving another hole he doesn’t know how to close up.
Baily arched cautiously next to him, when he didn’t retract or lash out back at her she pulled him into a hug and cried with him. As the little girl quite down Pete’s own tears turned to soft whimper. His lungs hurt from the running, his legs still burned but the pain in his chest was nothing in comparison.
A loud rattle against the gate draw all for of their attention to it.
“I don’t get it,” Claire, stood up holding Emma to her “first there was no sign of them, then all of a sudden there was so many. How did none of us hear them coming?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t stand to look at them any longer.” Baily Garcia, moved away from Pete and reached into her pocket retrieving a hairband. Stepping over to Claire she took Emma from her and goes to sit with her, further away from the things at the gate. Emma’s tear stained face looks up into her own as she starts to comb Emma’s dirty hair with her fingers, tying it back with the hairband. For a slight second she stops and just looks at her. The action reminded Baily of her own mother, doing the very same thing when she was younger.
“You okies?” Emma’s hors little voice draws Baily out of the distant memories, she just nodded her head. She had to hand it to her, they had just escaped death and the little one still seems to find it in herself to ask Baily if she is ok.
“I’m fine Emma, how’s your boo-boo?”
Emma looked down at her little legs and looks back up at Baily.
“It burns, but…” the approaching of tears made their way to her eyes again.” I know Ken, didn’t mean to hurt me he just wanted to help.” Baily had to pull her into a hug at that point as the tears fully flowed.
“Yes sweetie, he did. He saved us.” As Baily picked Emma up again she turned to Claire, her best friend.
They had made plans that morning before everything went to shit, to take Claire to an abortion clinic. Baily knew how terrified Claire was of her abusive father and even though Baily’s own Christian standards was against abortions she convinced Claire to go through with it. Yet, as she think back at those things she question on two, first was this Gods plan? A form of repopulating the earth? Or was it rather a singe from God himself that Claire shouldn’t go through with the abortion?
Killing two birds with one stone… I think not and the extreme of showing a singe …what the hell?
The hope that clings to her in her arms should also then be another singe if not then for God then who and how could such a small child survive this? Baily knew that it would be pointless to seek the child mother, but how do you tell her? How do break a child’s heart saying you will never see your mother again.
She knew of course, her father had that responsibility. She was four when her mother became terminally ill, the night when her mother passed she sensed something was amiss. Her father entered her bedroom and she could smell the heavy smell of beer on his breath. He picked her up and held her delicately in his arms and cried till she felt numb in his . He only motioned that Momma is with God now and she knew. Her four-year old self knew that she will never see her mother again.
No man could come close to her Papa. He worked his fingers bare at that garage to support them both. She might not have lived the luxury life Claire and her brother had but she would not triad her father for theirs. Claire’s father was a monster, when Bill came out, Claire had to sneak him to the hospital so the medical personnel could patch up his back. Still today Bill or Belinda as he was now know, walked funny. Belinda escaped out of that house but Claire never could find the courage to do the same.
Maybe it was also part of God’s plan, when Claire’s father guts lay out before him, a woman who became one of those things, gorging herself on his intestines. This might just be the howl revelation thing. Bad people meeting their demise but her own Papa? He didn’t deserved it.
She had gone over to Claire’s house that morning at twenty minuets to eleven. Hoping that Claire’s father would be long gone. The sight of the woman attacking Claire’s father on their front lawn, her face aimed at his gut. Then the scream of the man. Baily didn’t know what happened next because she found herself with Claire, hiding in the upstairs bathroom. Hearing the screams of terror the world has become. Siting there holing each other while with each sound and noise they fringed and shivered. They knew they had to get out of there, they knew they had to find some means for escape yet they could not find it in themselves to move.
Baily’s phone rang, a menacingly sound that made them both jump. As she retrieved it with shaking fingers and upon seeing her father’s number flash she answered.
“Baily, baby where are you?”
Her father could barely get a proper sentence out from her but he knew at least where to come get her.
“Its going to be okay baby girl, daddy’s coming.” That was the last words she heard her father ever speak again. Her father never came and she knew then, they way she knew her mother was gone that he too was with God.
Upon escaping the house, Baily had to drag Claire away from her father corps. The duffel bag was heavy on her shoulders as they ran. Around them other people old, young, small, fat and skinny too was caught in the chaos. The screams still hunted her in her dreams, she could still hear them pleading for help, mourning for loved ones only for their own mournful sorrow to turn into dreadful screams of terror.
She felt a hand gently on her shoulder, looking back she saw Pete. His brown eyes reminded her of her father’s. Kind but also bearing pain of loosing someone dear to them.
“Thank you.” He said and then suddenly tore his gaze away from her. She didn’t expect it from him, but if not for him and Kenneth, she and Claire might not have made it. The two made an odd friendship, two total weirdos in her eyes but they at least seemed to know how to survive in this hell that they have to face. There decisions didn’t always make sense to her, but at times they seemed to be the right ones.
“Claire, I’m sorry.” He said, his voice distant not really there, nor was it truly his own yet he had the decency to apologize.
Claire Talbot, wiped at her face. She need a bath, she need a manicure, fuck she needed… she needed to die. Why couldn’t one of those monster just have taken her? Like it had taken her father. Why hadn’t she just died the night he raped her? And now she is stuck with little life growing inside her. She looked over to Baily, her friend. Baily didn’t know how good she got it. Compared to Claire’s own life Baily’s was a fantasy. It might not have had all the expense her own had but she at least had a father that loved her, that cherished her and that treated her like a daughter. There was so much love in Baily’s house not the same she could say for her own. The only love she knew was from her own brother. She knew he was transgender or gay, whatever they call it now a days. She didn’t care for he loved her and still does. Everyone thought he escaped their father, no he was thrown out. He just made it seem that he escaped.
She wipes at her face again, no resin to ponder on the past, that is now gone. She mentally laugh’s at their situation more hers than theirs.
Escaping one hell only into the other.
As she turns her gaze back to the gate she thinks of Kenneth, in away he reminded her of Bill but also not. Kenneth was surely different then most gay guys she knew, and the sad part was not only was he sexy but she was attracted to him.
She at least hoped he made it away from them, escaped to safety some how. He was the strongest mentally among them, well that’s what she thought anyway. He had had his own little mental break down at the house but at least that was behind him now and he could face the future.
“What fucking future?”
She slapped her hand to her mouth upon realizing she had just spoken the words aloud. Seeing the other wasn’t fazed by it. She spins around not able to stomach looking at the monster any more.
Monster? Like my father?
No they didn’t come close to him.
They at least resembled being people before… fuck it.
She hastily pushes her sore legs to move to the concert staircase. Taking in the building they escaped into. It was a warehouse of some sort, a strange odor hung in the air of dried vegetables, and as she moved up the stairs, her thighs protesting each time she lifted a leg. She scans the boxes lined along the steps. Packages of shrubs, dried fungus, fish and other rooted vegetables she couldn’t name. There was a door at the top of the short stair case, and as she out stretch a hand to push it open someone reach past and pull it away.
“Easy there Claire, we don’t know what’s on the other side.” She wanted to protest and storm through the door but she hadn’t the energy for it. She rubbed past Pete, silently cursing him for the waste of effort she placed in her legs to make them move.
She finds a crate pulls it to the wall and sit on the wooden crate.
“What now?” Baily placed Emma down and the little girl cling to her legs.
Pete left out burdened breath as he came down the stairs.
“I… don’t know.” As he leans to the wall when he reached the bottom of the stairs he keeps his eyes focused on the floor.
“Kenneth was plan-guy, I just followed and provided back up.”
“We should see what’s on the other side of the door. But…” Yea he didn’t feel like it right now.
“But we can’t just sit here? How long till they break through the gate.” Baily quickly glances at the things on the opposite side of the barrier. It was present on all three of their minds. But nether one wanted to be faced with the same predicament they had just so narrowly escaped.
“The peep-hole silly’s.”
“Nice one,” Pete sarcastic laugh escaped his throat. “Get reminded the world is all hide and seek by a chilled. But I guess it’s worth a try.” He drags his tired form up the stairs again and kneels at the key hole, closing one eye to somehow be able to see more than what the small opening could provide. He focuses on the shadows in the room, push down the handle gently and slowly to see if it’s locked or not. The door moves forward, but he stops as something moves. Tightening his grip on the handle, the movement is repetitive, like the wind blowing on a curtain or a plant.
Peter takes a deep breath releases the handle and turns around. Both Claire and Baily are standing, he can see the anxiety on there faces.
“I’m going in,” he keeps his voice low as not to draw attention for whatever might be at the other end of the door. He glances over the aria before him. Spots a fire extinguisher and point to it. “Claire hand it to me” she follows the spot his finger is pointing at with her eyes but Baily was already busy in untangling the red canister from it hook. Struggling on the things weight it almost fell to the concrete floor when Claire manages to help Baily carry the thing over. Pete meets them at the bottom again taking it in one hand and the hose on the other.
“Wait, you gone spry them to death with Potassium chloride?” Claire asked almost humorously.
“Funny ha-ha-ha.” Pete fakes a smile. “But not so funny when I slam it into their face now would it?”
“Yea ok, fine just,” Claire touch his arm “be careful.”
He draws back his lips in a bitter expression and ascend up the stairs. As slowly as the first time he pulls down the handle and slower still push the door open, hoping it won’t creak or crack in it movement. His heart drums loud in his ears as he takes in a deep breath. He quickly pops his head round the door only to be blinded by bright sunlight. Cringing as the light pierce his eyes, he blinks till he can adjust them to the room.
Rows of standing shelf’s lined in the center of the small shop, the sunlight shining through the glass windows giving the room an almost foggy appearance as the lights play’s. He catches the repetitive movement of shadows. A bowl of water is standing a top a check out counter with some fish in it. The shadows displayed against the wall behind it. He shakily lets out a breath but his nerves doesn’t ease.
As he push back the door and takes the first steps into the shop he hears the soft scrape of something long the floor, slowly Pete steps closer, enabling him to see more of the shop. His heart not drumming any more but taking load hard and slow beats. The first singe of red sets his heart in over drive again coming to the railing, as the front part of the shop has a balcony leading up and to the back. He sees the man-freak crawling dragging what is left of his legs behind him. He could see the flesh and skin torn. The bones still red from blood, one of them cracked and what seemed like bone marrow oozing out. He felt his stomach flip. But now wasn’t the time to dispose of his breakfast. Slowly as he made his way to the stairs, careful not for the fire extinguisher to hit against anything or his shoes to step on some unwanted object that could draw nose, he scans the rest of the shop. Following the trial of blood it seems that what he can make out it was only the man-freak in the shop.
When he finally reach the bottom step, he saw the freak drag his body around a shelf. Quickly he makes it to the door and lock it, there his suspicion was laid to rest. Blood smears on the handle and blood trails coming into the shop stated that the man had escaped and manage to drag himself inside.
The groan send shivers down his back and he could hear the freak pulling himself to ward him.
Pete turned, taking the extinguishers bottom end and bring it hard down on the things head, the load crack of bone made him let out a hard breath. Over come with relive he sways, stumbles and falls to the ground. As the burn begins lining the inside of his esophagus it speeds, he taste the bile in his moth. It came out as white sour froth, spilling from his lips to the floor as he choked on it. The can of lentil soup he ate this morning displayed in front of his face.
Claire waited, the things at the other side of the gate seem to be just staring at them. Not groaning or rattling the gate, just staring. She takes a step closer, and yet finds her self stepping closer still.
It would be so easy just reach out with her hand. One bite, that’s all, one small instant of pain and then wait for death, she would be doing the little one inside her a favor. But something caught her eye. The shorter one in front. The inside of her neck half exposed and bitten open, dried blood line her blouse but the growths in the tissue.
“O my God” she had to clasped her moth as her eyes deceived her but there it was again the faint glow… no almost as if something is moving inside the growths. Like a liquid of some sort. The growths are alive. As she trailed up to the things face it even more horrified her and stunted her with amazement and curiosity. She steps closer and looks into the things murky milk-fogged eyes. The thing, the woman had blue eyes once, she can just still see a hint of the color pigments but it’s the brown orange roots in the eyes that fascinates her. Like small worms yet root like she can see them clearly in the sclera of the eyes. She moves to the next one. Murky eyes brown, but no growths, the one after that was different. Its eyes where almost all covered in the growths and as she leans in for a closer look. Claire gasp as it seems the growths re growing out of the pupil of the eye. She takes a step back to scared of what she had just witnessed. Her mind boggled of no medical term to call upon for explanation.
A hand on her shoulder made her jump and in reaction the things at the gate too seemed to stare in astonishment in her reaction.
“What are you doing?”
“I…” Claire’s eyes flashed from Pete back to those things back to his again.
“Your back, meaning it save. Can we just get away from them please.” She didn’t with for him, she didn’t bother when he called her name. She just kept moving up the stairs and trough the door to the other side of the shop. That hunting images of their eyes still strongly present in her mind. The thought rocked her.
They where once human beings with feelings, emotions, memories. They had once loved and now they are just things with things growing inside them.
As she found the wall she thought of her father.
He deserved it, he fucking deserved it more than any other.
She falls back against the wall sliding down and bringing her knees up to her chest. She thinks of Kenneth and she thinks of her brother.
They most likely now are also one of those things with other things growing inside them.
Baily walked past her as little Emma followed but stopped when she saw Claire kneeling, holding on to herself. The little girl stepped over to her and went to sit by her side silently, not saying anything just sitting.
Pete griped Baily’s hand just before she went down the stairs.
“What?” she turned and asked. He was pale looking and sweat had accumulated round his neck and forehead.
“I need you to help me.” He whispered so that the other two can’t hear. She nodded. He led her down to the front of the shop and she had to clinch her hand over her mouth.
He nodded, bitterness present in his face. She knew then he wanted her to help him cover the corpse up or hide it so little Emma won’t see it. She swallowed back the sour taste in the back of her mouth. Not now, she can’t be scared anymore for this was life. The sooner she got use to this the better. She knew this wasn’t going to be the first time nor was it going to be the last.
The world roared with their voices of death and carnage but all I could hear was the one on my back. Then came the cracking sound of a steel pipe meeting his skull. It went lump.
“Get up Kenneth!” his voice was hard as it pierced in my ears.
I didn’t move, fear had me pinned to the ground. The corps on my back was pushed off and a strong hand griped me at the collar pulling me up violently that I felt myself choke as the collar pressed into my skin. The pain in my hand flooded the left side of my arm. He dragged me along with him my feet where moving but whether they where running or pasting I didn’t know. I thought of them Pete, Baily, Claire and little Emma. Where they okay? Did they manage to make it? Safe where I left them.
The roars got distant as he and I moved past shops. Somewhere vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place them until he pulled me into darkness and slammed a door, a metal bolt clinking in place. I fell down to the floor where he left me. My body shivered and my hands shook. I could still feel it on my back the thing’s mouth and teeth closing in on me. He reached for me and pulled me into his embrace. Strong arms wrapped around me, squeezing me to his chest. I shivered and then screamed as I felt the pain in my hand intensive with the pressure of our bodies pushing against it.
He let go of me then. His smell familiar. The smell of whiskey strong on his breath tobacco mixed into it as his hard breathing blew a cross my face. His eyes and mine trailed to my disfigured fingers as I held my shaking hand delicately to my chest. He took it in his bigger hand, rubbing over the knuckles with his ruffed fingers. They were used to hard labor.
His blue eyes found mine, and yet there was no smile present there was still a form of relive there.
“Take a breath Kenneth,” I heard the pop of my dislocated fingers being pushed back into place. The pain was quick and then eased slowly like a burning wound. He let go then and went to the other side of the bar counter retrieved a bottle of water. The sharp creak sound of the seal breaking, I blinked as it brought me back out of my head space. He moved quickly coming before me again. I reached for it but he paid my hands no attention. Griping the back of my head, he carefully brought it to my lips and tilled the water bottle. As the first taste of wet moister filled my dry mouth I gulped at it greedily, choking as it went down, some spilled and trailed down my lips and chin.
He again brought those massive rough and shaking hands to my face this time, and wiped roughly and hard at the moister on my chin. As his fingers went over my lips and I could taste the dirt and sweat on them. He pulled me to him again and hold me tight in his strong grip placing a kiss against my head and I felt him shudder as emotion over took him and I heard him cry as he held me. Not the way you would expect big man to cry. I think they came more from relive then anything else. The kiss too, must have been his own unknowing reaction to finding someone he knew still alive.
As he held me and his tears fell on to my skin, I took in the darkened room around us. Here and there small beams of sunlight shone trough where the tint on the windows had worn through. The leather bar seemed strangely different in the day then what it looked like at night. It had a completely different feel to it, I could see the bare brick walls, the corners of the bar where at night others would find the darkness comforting, hiding them in playing with another. It didn’t have that feel of excitement and mystery, it would during the late hours of the night. The liqueur bottles sitting against the mirrored wall on the other end of the bar glimmered as the sunlight beams shine into them.
It still smelled the same though, of cigar smoke, sweat, leather and sex. But now those smells didn’t bring the same meaning to me, they left a bitter taste in my mouth and a stabbing pain in my gut and heart. The place where it all started, where I first met Thor, had be come something I hated with a vengeance.
“Are you okay, Kid?” He still found it, to call me that.
“I’m not bitten or infected if that’s what you mean.” I pulled away from him. Slight angry at him for reminding me of what was still out side the door.
“Where’s Dail…” But he shook his head fiercely as he closed his eyes. The pain in his face was menacing and it way out matched the pain I felt to wards loosing Thor. Tears still managed to make it past his lids even though I think he was fighting them back.
I just closed my own eyes and rested my head against his chest.
“Kenneth, I… I shot him,” his body shocked uncontrollably as he blabbered between tears and pain in his voice. His heart trumping loud against my ear.
“I shot my baby” and then the emotion came violently. As Randy’s body collapsed, his bigger form taking me with him to the ground. He cried and mourned his lover.
They had been together for 25 years, it was a lifetime in comparison what I and Thor had, but I could understand his pain.
They got engaged four mounts after me and Thor got together, here in the leather bar. It was a privet get-together, they even closed the bar for it, only long-term friends and members were allowed in. I recalled that night, we stood around them in a group as Randy went down to his knees in front of his Master. The shock and then the smile that come over Daile’s face as Randy pulled out the ring and asked him to be his life long partner. When Diale reached over and pulled Randy up taking the ring from him first then slipping it on his finger they kissed passionately. Thor’s trembling hand found mine and griped it tightly, almost painfully in that moment.
Now thinking back to that morning when everything went to hell. Now upon knowing that Thor loved me, I knew that maybe that is what he too wanted for us. The feeling made my own tears creep up to my eyes. But I pushed them back as I hold on to Randy. His outburst and his actions only reminded me that we are still human.
It was moments later, when he started to come back to himself.
“Sorry, it’s just…” he looked away ashamed maybe of his display before me. I reached for his forearm, it still shook.
“Randy its okay, I understand,”
“You don’t fucking understand Kenneth!” He pulled his arm from me as he got up walking to the bar. Gripping a bottle of whiskey and taking a huge gulp of it. Some trailed down his chin and neck he wiped angrily at the liquor.
“I came to the bar, to check supplies, Daile was unpacking the jeep when I heard the screams from outside.” He paused taking another gulp, his blood-shot eyes glaring darkly at me.
“I heard commotion at the back of the bar. I went to go check it out.” His head swayed from side to side and there was a grim-bleak expression on his face as he closed his eyes and his bottom lip trembled.
“They were tearing Johnny man apart.” (Johnny-man was an old bum they allowed to sleep at the back of the bar.) “With there fucking teeth and faces and hands.” He was crying again. I stood right there where he left me. I didn’t want to know where this was going.
“I came back in, grabbing the gun under the counter. When I got back outside there was more of them. They looked like those zombies you see on TV, yet still it was nothing in comparison. I keep hearing him scream help me, some please help me.” The crash of the bottle against the floor made me jump when it shattered loudly.
“I wanted to go to him, to my baby, I was so focused on that, two of them came running at me,” by now I could barely make out the words he was saying but it sounded like he came back in the bar locking the back door to prevent those things from coming in. The front door of the bar slammed shut and as the sudden nose startled him, he spun around and fired.
“I should have checked that the safety was on, it always was, but God… I shot him. I shot Daile, Kenneth! I shot the man I love. I killed him!”
I could feel the color in my face drain away, not at shock to his words, it might have been that too but to know his burden, his pain was far more grater then mine. I don’t know if Thor is alive, dead or one of them. But it couldn’t compare to his. I was ready to kill Thor, but to kill him when he was still human not infected. I swallowed hard at the thought.
“It… it was an accident Randy, you where startled…”
“Like fuck it matters!” he was up storming to wards me. He gripped me on the coats lapels and brought his face to mine.
“I’m a retired general, I served in the military for fifteen years. I should have known better!”
His grip loosened but didn’t let go and he buried his face in my shoulder.
“I held him bleeding and deign in my arms. My own Daile. He smiled Kenneth, he fucking smiled at me!”
He kept quite for a short moment. I could feel the tears seep into the material of the hoodie I wore.
“Then you know what he said?” he didn’t pull his face from me to meet my own. I just hug him, he needed to let this out he needed to confess, not that it mattered not that it would make things easier.
“The fucking basted! He said he loved me! That asshole, then he left me!”
He reached for the inside of this leather jacked, pulled his head back and looked deep into my eyes.
“You can, you must do it. I can’t do it myself.” At his words he pulled out the automatic and pushed the gun to my hands wrapping his fingers around my own. He turned the gun so it pointed to his chest.
“No, Randy no….”
“Do it Kenneth, I can’t live like this, I can’t go on knowing what I have done.”
“Randy I said no!” a slap came to my face so fast and hard that I swayed back wards.
“Boy, you do what you are told, now pull the fucking trigger!” his voice was angry at me and I think at himself. He took my other hand and wrapped it around the trigger, with his clasped around both of mine so I couldn’t let go.
“Pleas Kenneth, I want to see him, I want to be with him again. I beg y…oouft” He fell to his knees as I brought my own to his groin.
“Fuck you brat!” he spat and hissed, trying to catch his breath, wile kneeling at the floor.
I moved away from him, the gun hidden behind my back. As he got up there was no doubt, he was pissed and I was going to be the receiving end of his anger.
That’s what friends do right, we turn the other cheek and take another blow for those we care for right?