Page 2 of Hunt Me
However, this current Skulls actions compounds the fact that they are just a typical dickhead apocalypse group as he still hasn’t given me anything yet, my fingers beginning to twitch in annoyance.
He’s fucking boring.
Why can’t he use at least one of his big ass axes he’s got slung across his broad shoulders and cut someone in half? Judging by his muscles, it should be pretty easy for him.
Is it really too much for a girl to wish for?
Not that many people are milling about these abandoned streets with us. He’s the only other person I’ve encountered since leaving the school. Which quite frankly gives me the creeps. We’re in a city where there should be more survivors than this.
Most of my group are permanently pissed off. Constantly hangry, it’s not even a joke anymore. Hardly any food is available anywhere, hence our little detour to the city.
I’ve seen all kinds of fucked up fights over a scrap of food. I mean I once saw a Granny macheted a guy's head off for trying to pinch her tin of Spam. He was a massive dick head so she did the world a service but still. The sight had me retching behind a stack of rubbish for a hot minute. So, as any sane person who grew up in an apocalypse would do, I chopped her head off in return for making me waste my meal. Then I enjoyed her tin of Spam because wasting food is just a big no no.
Initially, people avoided the cities since they were only virus Hot spots, running from them like rats from a sinking ship. But then the countryside became the devil's playground. Demons began roaming the fields like some fucked up story the soldiers used to tell us when we were younger. They’d mainly tell us bad stories of what goes on outside our camp to keep us there, which worked for a while.
We’ve seen almost it all. Therefore, us taking up camp in a city run by the dead (cough cough freaks in skeleton masks) are not that concerning to us.
I watch as the Skull ahead of me saunters through a large opening to a building, the concrete walls still holding the structure up though they look like they’ve seen better days. It’s a supermarket-looking place. Well, from where I’m crouched at the back entrance, it’s more like the storage area of the supermarket.
I hum to myself as my heart pounds an excited rhythm in my chest.
I send a quick prayer to the apocalypse Gods.Pretty please be some form of storage unit with lots of food and supplies so that I can rob them blind.
I’ve not heard of where The Skulls live, but I know it’s on the South side — across the river, so this definitely isn’t it.
This could be a meeting point. But no one else is around, so it may be more of a secret one.
Maybe I’ll find myself surrounded by a bunch of buff masked men.
I consider that momentarily, mulling over how terrible that would be as images of everythingthatsituation could entail flash through my mind.
I feel a grin spreading across my face as my legs follow in after him on their own accord.
The rolling shutters are secured open by metal chains and a couple of knotted ropes. Months, maybe years, of dirt and waste have passed through the entrance.
The weather's pretty tame today, especially for springtime in Scotland. The leaves that made their way through the entrance are fully dried out and crumbling under the masked Skull’s steps.
The girls and I were so happy the first day we properly saw the sun again – instant joy. Clover finally smiled in what must have been months. Her usually soft features had been so dead and devoid of any emotion we’d forgotten how beautiful she is.
The dark shadows from the warehouse taunt me and usher me inside as I follow the masked man.
‘To my death,’I whisper as I continue to follow through the entrance.‘Maybe,’I shrug while responding in a different voice, one more sinister this time.‘Probably. But who knows?’This last one chirpy and excited.
The wall of muscle ahead is dressed in all black. Cargo trousers with full pockets, black scuffed-up boots wrapped tightly by his laces, a matching black t-shirt, and intricate tattoos flow down both exposed arms. There are a couple of small knives strapped to the insides of his wrists, which are tightly wrapped with shreds of material. Apart from his masked face, the most menacing aspect of his appearance is the two axes strapped into the small pack on his back. Smatterings of blood remain around the pack, contrasting with the clean shining silver of the axe's head.
He must have had some fun without me before I found him. But where? I haven’t heard any screams in days and I didn’t see any blood — well none fresh anyway — on the way here.
My wandering thoughts cause too much distraction and I trip on one of the rogue pieces of metal lying on the floor.
My stomach sinks and I despite my best efforts to stay vertical I fall flat on my face and watch in growing horror at the nightmare unfolding.
Of course, the piece of metal I hit has to have been part of a more enormous concoction of inner networks inside the building, rather precariously holding up one of the wall pieces and of course it tumbles.
I roll my eyes. Fuck. My. Life.
What a fucking stupid fix for a massive issue.
With the metal dislodged, the wall begins moving, and a large chunk falls directly in front of the masked Skull. The man who is looking dead at me as I lie on the floor, the only obstacle in our path being the freshly fallen wall.
