Young Writers Society

Griffin

Griff glared at the sky as it rumbled. "Dont you dare rain." He mumbled, then muffled a curse as a drop hit him on the head. He swalked forward as Ash barked crazy, and started chasing her tail." What is it girl? Realized you had a tail?" Ash trotted to his side and whined. ." All right, we'll find somewhere to dry off." He smiled and looked for cover. Something caught his eye. He turned and saw, another human. Friff was instantly on the defensive. The last people he had met had well... tried to kill him. He lowered into a hunting crouch, pulling his large knife out. He started forward, like a puma stalking his pray. He bit back a curse as Ash sprang forward, barking happily. The girl jumped, and pulled an equally large knife out. Griffs jaw dropped. The way she moved... she knew how to handle a blade, that was for sure. The girl smiled and leaned down to scratch behind Ashs ears. Ash groveled loyally before the girls touch. Traitor, griff thought as he stood up. The girl backed up and pointed her knife at his chest." D-dont come any closer!" She said shakily. Griff cocked his head. Was she Australian? He sat his knife on the ground.
"I dont mean any harm." He said slowly, warily watching the wavering knife point. Sheesh. She might be scared, but she had a firm grip on the knife. Griff held his arms out then lowered his hood and pulled his scarf down. He tried a joke." People of earth, I come in peace." He droned. She didnt smiile. Well, wit wasnt going to work... he smiled at her." Seriously though, I dont mean any harm. I just came to grab my dog before it rains." The girl glanced at Ash who was wagging her tail. She smiled, then slowly lowered the knife.

Griff glanced at her. She may be covered in ash, but damn... he straitend as she glanced at him, as if she knew what he was thing. He blushed." Uh, im Griffin, but you can just call me Griff if you want." She cocked her head." Im Andraya." Griff nodded. Manners griff, he thought." Um, if you would like, you could join my canine companion under a tree for dinner. And I promise I wont hurt you. Two makes a better team than one." He added. She nodded." Id like that. Ok. But, pull any funny buisness, I can handle a blade." She pointed at him and he nodded." Right this way then miss. I know all of the finest trees in this district, and im sure I can find us an excellent deal on 5 star trees with a wonderful feast." She smiled and picked up her messenger bag. Ash walked right next to her." Traitor." Griff muttered out of the side of his mouth. Andraya smirked.

Andraya

Two days before she meets Griff
Bit of a read, sorry, but I hope it appeals to everyone’s sense of humour, and we get to know a little more about Andraya.

In a way … I suppose.


I lean against the tree and stretch my legs out in front of me, my hands crawling up the bark of the pine. My back cracks, and I relax. I look at Griff, and he looks away suddenly.
It’s been two days since I came back to myself. The skies had darkened even more, and today, there were the first signs of rain. My sock, so far, has proven to be very useful, but my foot feels like I’m walking on hot coals, and the material is sticking to its underside, which means I’m going to have a fun time pulling it off. I haven’t spoken to myself since I woke up from the best sleep I’ve ever had, and I’m glad. Griff looks like he’s able to defend himself, and I can tell that with the way he pulled out his knife before. I wouldn’t want to scare him away, or alert him that I’m slightly going nuts.
I realise I’m staring at him, and blush, but he doesn’t notice. At least, I assume so.
The dog, an Australian shepherd, is sitting on my other side, wagging her tail. I scratch her behind the ear, as she seems to like that, and she whines a little. I wonder if she was born here, or in Australia.
“We Aussies have to stick together, huh girl?” I say to her, using the Australian accent actors use in movies. “We’re way out of our depth here. Luckily we have Griff to guide us across the unknown territory.”
I give Griff a lop-sided grin, and he smiles back. He has a nice smile, and I like the way his eyes light up when he does. But I can see a great sadness in those eyes.
I spot the guitar and nod to it. “You play?” I ask.
Griff’s smile widens. “Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t carry it around,” he says with a slight chuckle.
I can feel my face heating up, but smile anyway. “Right, yes,” I stammer. “Well, um, what do you play?” I ask quickly.
“All kinds of stuff,” Griff pulls his guitar into his lap, and strums a couple of strings. “Have anything in mind?” He glances at me from under his eyelashes.
“Nope,” I say, my smile wide and toothy with my eyes closed.
“Well … would you mind if I played a little music?” He asks.
“Go ahead! I love music,” I swivel around to face him and cross my legs as he starts playing a song. At first, I don’t recognise it, but when he starts singing, I realise it’s Green Day, a band my brothers would listen to all the time.
Griff stops playing and stares worriedly at me. I realise I’m crying, and wipe the tears away quickly and angrily. He looks away awkwardly, and I mentally kick myself. I wonder if he thinks my threat still stands. Which it does. But I still could use his company, and he does know the place well.
“Sorry. Memories,” I say, in means of an explanation.
“Hey, it’s ok,” he says. “I could play something different if you like.”
“No, no, play whatever you want,” I say, waving his worries away with my hands. “I mean, I like the music anyway.” I look away and close my eyes.
“What about you?” Griff asks, abandoning his guitar for the moment. “Do you play a guitar? Or any instrument?”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips as I turn to look at him. “I used to play the Djembe,” when Griff tilts his head to the side in confusion, I laugh. “It’s like a bongo drum, but bigger, and instead of two drums attached to each other, there’s just the one drum. My parents used to make them with the kangaroo skins Dad would bring home,” I explain.
Griff grimaces. “Ahh …” he looks very confused.
“Sorry …” I smile as I think of a way to explain. “My Dad used to go out hunting on weekends, and he’d bring home everything he’d catch. We’d eat the meat, use the skin for the drums, and then what we didn’t need, we’d sell,” I smile, and Griff nods, even though he doesn’t look impressed. “We lived out of town, and Mum ran a vegetable farm. We pretty much lived off the land, like the native Australians did.”
“Which would explain the knife,” Griff says, sure he understands it all now.
I tense. “Yeah,” I say slowly.
Griff smiles and looks away. He’s probably noticed he hit a sore spot with the mention my Dad’s knife. But he doesn’t know anything about me, and doesn’t know what I’ve been through, so how could he have known? Then again, I don’t know what he’s been through. I hope I haven’t said anything out of turn!
“So,” I say cheerily. “You should play some music, and I’ll go to sleep.”
Griff studies me for a while, and so I take the time to study him. He has short, blonde hair, and brown, sparkling eyes. He isn’t all that bad looking, though I will admit, his smile is very nice.
“Pick a song,” he says, strumming the guitar strings again.
I shake my head with humour, smiling slightly. I look at the sky, watching the clouds, as I think of a song. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.

Miles

Miles caught the backpack and began shoving all the food cans he spotted. Within a minute he had it filled. He slung it over his shoulder, as did he with his bag, and then picked up his sword. Henri seemed ready so he began to head for the front door.

Half an hour later the two had reached the creek where Miles had been staying, and he scooped up his laptop bag. There was no electricity at the moment where he was, but having the laptop could come in handy later on.

The two returned to the neighborhood Henri had been staying at. They reached the opposite side and began to follow what looked like the road. The ground sloped down on either side, covered in ash. Thunder growled above, and lightning shot out like a panther, lashing at its prey.

Henri looked up and groaned.

Miles looked over worried. "Are you feeling OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, but do you know what will happen when it rains?"

Miles looked at the ash and nodded. "Yeah, this stuff will turn to cement basically."

They slugged through it for another ten minutes in silence. Miles looked over at Henri, weary and tired-looking. He felt bad for her. Ash covered her clothing, her hair was a tangle that looked untie-able, and her eyes had heavy sacs under them.

she needs to rest and get some food. And she needs to be somewhere safe. She'll be killed easily if we run into any danger. I hope there's a town nearby.

A raindrop splattered on his cheek. He looked around for cover instantly. They were still on a roadway, but there was no shelter around. He walked a little faster, only restraining himself from running, for Henri's sake.

The rain began to drizzle, and Miles had to pick up pace. He could hear Henri breathing heavily within minutes, and as the rainfall increased he began to lose his own strength. Shelter was necessary for survival right now.

The sky grew as dark as midnight as the storm came over the two survivors, but still they pressed on. Miles was shoveling himself through the ash when he heard a grunt, and then scream. He turned back, and through the rain spotted Henri, face down in the ash.

"no, come one Henri, we gotta go!" He grabbed her arm ad pulled her up, grunting in exertion.

She was crying, and stumbled forward as if in a daze. "We're gonna die." she moaned.

Miles looked over, tears brimming in his eyes. It didn't seem fair for someone like Henri to have to go through such a thing. That's when the body slammed into Miles, knocking him to the ground. Luckily he pulled his sword out as he went down, and he heard Henri scream behind him.

Gale Wakeley

Gale adamantly peeked out of a window, though it was covered in ash to the point that it was opaque. His arms and shoulders felt odd from the absence of the long sleeved shirt and jacket he had worn, now resting on the stair railing, for the first time in weeks clean. Himself, too, was clean; each one of them had eventually taken an old shirt from the closet upstairs and taken a gallon of water from the cellar and swiped themselves down. Also for the first time in a while, his stomach was full. Gale couldn't think of a better feeling.

Behind him, a loud and ostentatious moan that could only occur out of a jaded teenager came from the couch, where Sam, their fourth person of the group, had thrown himself across it haphazardly. His head lolled from side to side as Gale turned to look at him, Sam's eyes straining into his eyebrows as he surveyed Gale back. Sam sighed, breath pummeling out of his powerful lungs. Quickly, like a cat, Sam twisted himself up and around until he was in a slightly less awkward sitting position.

"I'm bored." He clarified. As if Gale couldn't tell that himself.

"There's cards." Gale suggested. In their more thorough search of the house, an old pack of cards had turned up in the old man's dresser. It had been their only source of entertainment for days, besides eating.

Sam groaned and flopped himself back down in the position he was in before, his growing sandy blonde hair resting on the couch's arm. As he did so, Morgan and Jacob came in from the kitchen, savagely feeding on two boxes of cereal. Sam sat up once again as the two other boys sat down in matching flowery chairs, somehow maintaining their dignity as they did so. Dylan, a boy Gale hadn't known until the ash, eventually thundered down the stairs to join them. Wherever Morgan was, the other boys eventually were to follow.

Gale eyed the cereal boxes. When they had got here a few days ago, there was enough food to last them weeks, even a month if they rationed it. But he knew for sure that those boxes of cereal had been pressed in the very back of the cabinets, out of reach and out of sight. That is, unless the food before it had already been eaten.

They continued to munch, unaware and probably uncaring of Gale's concerns.

Finally, Morgan stood and flung the box on the floor, pausing a second to watch it crash into the ground, and then scutter away like a beaten animal. Gale noted that no stray cereal bits tumbled out.

"We gotta get more food." Morgan remarked. "That's the last of it."

All heads turned to the dented box on the ground, and then turned to the sound of Jacob flipping the other cereal box over and dumping the sugary dust on the rug, dropping the box and standing. Gale felt something black harden in his chest, but it was gone before he could make note of it.

A pause of silence, then, "Well? Don't just fucking stand there. Get moving." Morgan growled.

Jetherson (Jet)

I watch the people shuffle about the makeshift camp. I know I should be helping them, because I know how to set up a tent using tree branches and material, but Nicolas, the ‘leader’ of the group, wouldn’t like that. I’ve decided to keep my head low, speak only when spoken to, and help when I’m asked. I don’t want to get in the way, and all I want to do is look for Kitty, my older sister.
Ridley, the second youngest person in the camp next to me, comes over and smiles at me. I smile back and offer her a seat beside me. She sits down and hands me a biscuit in a clear, plastic wrapper. It looks a lot like the bread stick things baby’s teeth on.
“How is it that a fourteen year old knows how to set up a tent, and the rest of us can barely keep it together?” Ridley asks almost angrily.
“I don’t know,” I say. I felt like saying, ‘Because I’m Australian,’ but I know that’s mean. And racist. And wrong. It’s because I grew up doing this kind of stuff, not because I’m Australian. Anyone could set up a tent, if they wanted to learn.
Ridley chuckles lightly under her breath. “Could you help me with mine?” She asks.
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?” I say, smiling at her.
I eat my biscuit, and then go over and help Ridley with her tent. And then, I find myself showing everyone how to do it. Nicolas watches, but doesn’t say anything. I try not to act dominant, but my sister always told me that if you want to keep people’s attention, you have to be loud and noticeable.
After I finish with the tents, I retreat to my own, and go to sleep early. I wake up before the sun rises the next day and have a breakfast of cold noodles in water from one of my bottles. As I finish, and dump the rubbish in the fire, I feel a pair of eyes on me, and turn around.
Nicolas is watching me. He has a blank expression on his face, but I ignore that. I look into his eyes, without challenge, just calculating. Nicolas narrows his, and then I see the hostility. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to like me.
My eyes shift over to my tent, where I know I have my knife. I always have everything in my backpack in case I have to make a run for it. I don’t hate these people, I just don’t trust them. I don’t know them either.
Nicolas seems to notice my eye shift, and walks over to me. He stares down at me, still with that blank expression on his face, but with hostility in his eyes. I’ve seen a man look at Kitty like that, and she knew he didn’t like her. He said something mean about Dad, and she knocked him out. Just like that. And no one ever gave her shit again.
Nicolas looks like he’s about to say something, but thinks better of it. I wonder if he can see the fight in my eyes. I wonder if he knows that I can defend myself. I wonder if he can tell that, any sudden movements, I’d be at my tent and grab my knife.
There is movement in the corner of my eye. I glance over for s split second to see two people crawling out of their tent. Nicolas turns his head fully to look at him. And that’s all I needed. In those two seconds, I dart back to my tent, strap my knife to my belt, and then start dismantling my tent. Other people start coming out of their tents, and I count myself lucky. Nicolas looked like he wanted to say something. I just hope he doesn’t know where Kitty is. Or maybe, if he knows her, he knows not to mess with me.
Ridley comes over and smiles at me, offering me some food. I decline politely and offer to help her with her tent. After that, Nicolas tells us to get up, because we’re moving now. I look at the others, and then an idea comes to mind.

Henrietta Jones

Henri screamed as she fell back into the ash, but her voice was quickly cut off by a round of wheezing coughs as the fall knocked all of the wind out of her. Over the noise of her choking she could hear the fight going on in front of her. Miles had his sword out and was swinging, hard.

"Guys, stop," she said weakly, trying to push herself up out of the ash.

It felt like quicksand around her, and her limbs were too weak to support her body and she just kept falling back down. This would be how she died, definitely. Already she'd lasted longer than she could have ever hoped. This was it. It had to be. The stranger would kill Henri - poor kid, she really liked him - and then her and take all their stuff.

A pathetic cry left her lips and she slipped once again in the thick sludge. This time, her head hit concrete on the way down. The world blurred into one color and spun around her. Panic gripped her lungs and she grasped around desperately for help.

"Miles," she screamed. "Miles, please!"

Her voice was shrill and seemed to ring through the air. Warm blood was now trickling down the side of her head, mixing with the cold rain. The noise of battle stopped with another scream meeting her own. The area descended into silence before a hand was pulling her out of the ash.

"Are you okay, Henri," Miles asked frantically.

"I'm fine I just-"

"You're bleeding!"

"You're bleeding."

"We have to go find a building or somewhere safe. Come on, lean on me."

She fell into Miles' side and instantly became exhausted. The world was still turning and her hands were starting to shake. They hadn't died today, but someone did. She tried not to look at the body as they passed it, but couldn't ignore the rivers of red blood mixing with the ash around them. She turned away and tried to stifle a cry. Miles still grasped his sword tightly in one hand, the blade stained red.

For some reason she felt like she'd be okay though. As long as she had Miles there, she'd be fine, she thought. He managed to get them to shelter and they both collapsed in exhaustion on the hard floor. Henri laid out on her back and struggled to catch her breath. She was painfully tired and it took her a while before she could form words. She turned over on her side and watched Miles laying beside her.

"Thank you."

Jet

I hear a low growl and pause. I slowly draw out my knife and prepare to fight. There is another growl, but further away. I relax a little, but don’t sheathe my knife. Beside me, Ridley groans.
“It would have been a feral dog,” she says flatly.
I glance sideways at her. “How do you know?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She tries to smile. “Because, it didn’t attack us,” she says snidely.
I sheathe my knife, but remain cautious, just in case the ‘feral dog’ decides to come back. Ridley takes the lead and we continue walking. We stop once or twice at streams to check if the water is safe, and then continue on at a slow pace.
It took a while, but with Ridley’s help, I managed to convince him that we’d be good scouts. Even though she’s my friend, and a very out-going person, she’s Nicolas’s loyal dog and spy, and so he allowed us to scout ahead because he knows we won’t try anything funny.
Most of the people in the group we pick up on the way as we travel, but those closest to Nicolas, like Ridley and seven other people, are more like bandits. I haven’t seen them attack anyone yet, but I’ve heard them talk about the lives they’ve come across and ended in order to get food. And that’s why I hope they haven’t found Kitty, because if they hadn’t killed her, she’d probably be part of the group.
“Hey, Jet, look over there!” Ridley points to a clearing that looks like it would be able to hold the whole group, and a fire and a communal tent.
I smile and start walking toward it. That’s when I hear the twig snap. Ridley takes no notice and pushes past me to stroll to the very centre of the clearing. She spins around, laughing, and sits down. She looks over at me and smiles widely.
“Come on, check it out! The grass is so soft and clean!” She shouts.
I don’t move, just stand there, watching her. She stops and stands there. Her whole expression has changed from happy to a little annoyed and irritable.
“Why do you have to be so smart?” She grumbles.
All around me people jump into the clearing, surrounding me. I draw out my knife again and glare around, and then spot Nicolas. He strolls across to Ridley and smiles at me. I quickly look around, and spot several escape routes, but I’ll probably have to hurt someone.
“Well, well, well,” Nicolas says slowly. “I never thought this moment would come.”
I growl. “Alright, what’s this about?” I say as bravely as I can, even though my heart is beating a million miles an hour.
“We have a proposition for you, Jetherson,” Nicolas says. “You can either join us, and help us survive, or we can kill you right here, and right now.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “What do you mean, join you guys? I already am part of the group!” I yell.
Everyone laughs. “Of come on, kid,” Nicolas sneers. “You know there’s a shortage of food. Soon we’ll need as much meat as we can get. Why do you think I’ve been letting in every human we come across?”
I feel like throwing up as what Nicolas is saying hits me. He’s a bloody cannibal! I wish Andraya were here so I could ask her for help. She’d know what to do.
“Cannibals are funny,” Kitty said. “They don’t really think about what they do, they just act. It’s because they’re embracing their inner animal. You outsmart a cannibal by not overthinking, but thinking simply. How would a gazelle get away from a cheetah?”
I love you Kitty! I want to scream, but I don’t. I clear my mind, and concentrate on escape. Nicolas is crazy, and there is no way I’m going to be a cannibal in order to survive!
“So, Jet, what will it be?” Nicolas asks.
“I’d rather die!” I shout, and jump back.
I trip over a tree root, or maybe something else, and fall. I get up, grip my knife, and run as fast as I can through the forest. I can hear shouts and feet crashing through the forest behind me, and start running in zigzag lines. I can hear curses and more yelling as people try to chase after me.
I break out of the forest and sprint across an open plain of ash. I spot a small smudge in the horizon surrounded by more, larger smudges. I keep running, my feet sometimes catching in the ash covering the ground. I can hear some shouts faintly behind me, but I don’t dare glance over my shoulder.
The smudge in the horizon grows larger, and then suddenly, I’m falling. I’m sliding down a hill of ash, and I have just enough energy to keep my knife in my hand. When I stop falling, I jump up and find myself closer to the smudge. And it turns out to be a house. I smile, wipe the ash from my face, and start coughing.
“This isn’t good,” I wheeze, and rip a strip off my shirt. I wrap it around my face and start running toward the house.

Miles

Miles stood quickly in time to block a swing from a baseball bat. In the rain and ash he managed to see that his opponent was barely older than him. He tried to tell him to stop, but the bat came flying in again and it was all Miles could do to block it with his sword.

"Miles, Miles, help!" Henri screamed from behind.

She sounded desperate. Oh no! Henri! I have to get to her. I can't let her die; she doesn't deserve it.

Miles tried to step back to her, but the wet ash proved thicker then he anticipated and he fell down. The maniac of a teenager glared above him, blond hair dirtied, rag tied around his head. He swung down, Miles brought his sword up to block, and it glanced off the blade,slamming into Miles' right shoulder and skinning his right ear.

Miles felt warm blood trickle down his face and his whole body shook in fear and anger. His right shoulder exploded in pain when he tried to stand up, and then went numb. The boy was swinging again and Miles rolled onto his left shoulder, stabbing with his katana, upward. The blade drove through the teenager's chest and he clutched it as Miles pulled the sword away.

The boy screamed as he dropped the bat, and stood for a moment, leaning over Miles, an expression of fear and sorrow on his face. He tried to say something but failed. Then he dropped to the ash. Miles wiped blood from his face where it was bleeding rapidly and making him become faint.

He stumbled back to Henri who was on the ground, tears pouring down her face and blood staining the back of her head.

"Are you okay, Henri," Miles asked frantically.

"I'm fine I just-"

"You're bleeding!"

"You're bleeding."

"We have to go find a building or somewhere safe. Come on, lean on me."

Henri stood dizzily and plopped on to his shoulder. He began to working his way through the rain, while thunder and lightning boomed above. The ash was just like drying concrete and it made walking painful and slow. Miles was becoming dizzy, and his body shook with exhaustion and adrenaline from the fight, plus the extra load of Henri. But he wouldn't drop her, not for anything. He felt as if it was now his responsibility to keep her safe.

He looked ahead through the gloom and rain and thought he spotted a dark shape. Huffing and puffing he carried Henri to it and realized that it was a rest stop. He wiped rain and blood from his face and dragged Henri across the parking lot and into the building. The door shut behind them and it became eerily still and quiet.

Miles laid Henri against on of the walls and then looked around. The building was nearly all intact, and Miles spotted the vending machines full with, although not healthy food and drinks, something for them to chew on. He felt like lead. But he had to take care of Henri. He ran into the men's bathroom and pulled several paper towels from the paper towel machine.

He returned to Henri and pressed the paper against Henri's head, staunching the blood. Her face was white with fear and loss of blood. Miles found her pills in her pocket and handed her two. He realized he was still holding his sword, and he let it clatter to the ground. He pulled the water bottle from his back and made Henri take the pills. Then she slipped off to sleep.

Miles sank to his knees, the fear for Henri and the adrenaline of the day washed out of him like a river. He had a few unused paper towels and he pressed them against his ear, wincing as the raw skin rubbed against the paper. When he had sufficiently done that he just sat their. His emotions has been pretty bottled up this trip, but with Henri coming into the picture things had changed. And he had just killed someone not much older than himself. He had wondered if he could do it. In the heat of them moment he had. But he wasn't sure if he was happy, or angry at himself.

He leaned against the wall next to Henri and shuddered. Before he could stop himself any longer, he began to cry. First a small tear dropped out, and then a torrent came. His body wracked for a good twenty minutes, fatigue too much for him. He finally slid off the wall to the side. Then he fell asleep.

Gale Wakeley

The sky flashed like the glint of a wicked blade, its war cries shuttering the earth and ash beneath it before plunging the world in a darkness that shaped the insignificant human figures into leering featureless beings. The always present clouds quivered in the might of the thunder, terrified beyond belief of its wrath and shedding hysteric cries of mercy and tears that splattered on the ash before mixing into a suffocating substance that clung to the featureless beings' legs like the sky's newborn infant. The gentle drizzle had steadily increased over the span of hours to a drastic downpour, and as the water ran and mixed, ran and mixed, the boys' moods had steadily soured.

Hints of former civilization had dwindled out nearly half a day ago, and with lack of food and no main source of entertainment, the group had fizzled into a heated argument that had resulted in one black eye and an eternal silence. Gale, always Switzerland, had distanced himself from the conflict, resulting in immediately being demanded to choose a side.

His eye continued to throb.

Gale focused on the suk and plack the thick sludge made as it sucked up his leg to his knee and then protested as he jerked it back out for another step. Gale had learned to tell whether or not they were about to crest a hill; it was much thicker and more stubborn in between hills, and only reached a few inches above his ankle when they were near the top. His body and mind quivered with exertion not to keep going, but to not collapse where he tried his best to blunder on. He didn't trust his fellow travelers to not keep going if he ever fell.

Ahead of him, out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of them widely gesturing ahead of them. He couldn't tell who. Only that whoever it was picked up the pace, nearly charging up the hill. Bewildered, the others followed and then began running themselves towards the shadow of the small house.

The hope of rest charged his aching limbs until he was finally stumbling through the door, drugged with relief. The others were in similar states, and Gale quickly turned around to shut the door behind him, already swiping the sludge off his shoulders. It didn't even cross their minds that someone else could be here.

The small living room, barely a couch, is quickly taken over by Morgan, and the others form a semicircle on the floor, stretching their legs out and pillowing their heads in hopes of sleep. Gale adjusts himself to the corner, leaning his head back on the wood and closing his eyes. But something kept nagging him. The slight disruption of the dust on the tabletop, the way the couch already had bits of ash clinging to its fabric, the sound of a creaking board...

Gale opened his eyes to a crouched figure in the entryway to the rest of the house. For a moment, Gale just stared blankly at him. The boy had yet to notice that he was not asleep, and Gale watched as he stepped further into the room. He registered the wild, uncomely scarlet hair, and the wary look to his eyes. He saw the aggressive nature of his stance, and then the quietness of his step. But only when Gale saw the glint of a knife did he realize what the boy planned to do.

"HEY!" Gale shouted. He was already up with his bat to defend himself, and the others jumped and clamored for their own. The boy started at the sudden movements of his once future victims, charging the closest body near him, which just happened to be Morgan.

Morgan's arm was much faster. The dull metal of his father's gun smacked across the boy's cheekbone and sent him down into the middle of the semicircle, now completely surrounded by teenagers much stronger and bigger than he was. Jacob, aggravated that they had been too tired to look around the house and find him ahead of time, brought the metal bat down on the boy. Gale watched in horror as the others followed his lead, and the living room was filled with smack, smack, smack and Morgan's cries of anger.

No no no no. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. Gale's vision was full of the sight of the boy in a fetal position in between them, the blood on the bats as his group pummeled the kid. All he could think of was that, and then of the other's disregard they would have if this was his sister. His vision played tricks on him as he stared, the boy's red mop shifting into puffs of a frizzy black hair and of a bat with his hands coming down on the back of Jacob's head.

He didn't remember the impact, only Jacob suddenly asleep on the floor and the others turning to stare at him, and the boy peeking in between his bloody fingers. Mostly, that was a backdrop though. The look in Morgan's eyes required full attention.

"What the fuck do you think you doing, Gale?" Morgan said, dead quiet. To be honest, Gale didn't know what he was doing. Looking back, he knew that he was half deranged by dehydration and hunger.

Slowly, as if making a sudden move might break whatever stillness the room was ensnared in, Gale reached for his coat and zipped it up and then threw his pack on, tying the damp cloth around his neck. They watched his progress, Morgan in particular, as he bent to hold the crippled boy. The boy made a slight protest in between his lips, but only seemed to have enough strength to grip his knife.

He headed for the door, Morgan now shouting at him. "So this is it? You throw your lot in with a worthless kid that tried to kill us? To kill you? After all we've done for you, after all I've done for you. I've fed you, clothed you, even wiped your damn ass when you were too much of a dipshit to do it yourself. You are NOTHING without ME! Just LOOK AT YOU! I hope you die out there, you bastard, and if you don't I'll find you and kill you myself."

Jet

People. People in my house. They shouldn’t be here. They must go. This is my house. I was here first. It belongs to me. They shouldn’t be here. They must go.
I crouch in the doorway to the room. My room. They’re all asleep, spread out around the room like dead rats after eating poison. Only they’re not dead. Not yet, anyway.
I creep forward in a silent crouch toward one. I clutch the knife in my left hand so hard my knuckles turn white, and my arm shakes. I’m nearly there, to the first one, when a shout startles me, making me jump.
“Hey!” One of them yells, and suddenly the rest are on their feet.
Thoughts of ration fly through my brain a million miles and hour, but I can’t make sense of them. I rush toward the nearest person, ready to attack. He’s tall, and I’m probably way out of my depth here, but my crazed mind doesn’t care, and spurs me on regardless.
Suddenly, I’m on the floor, hard things hitting me. I curl up on where I lay, hands over my face, knees squeezed against my chest, but the blows still hurt. One of my finger bones shatters, and I can feel blood trickling down my face and arms. I want to close my eyes, but all I can do is yelp with each blow, watching the blood drip to the floor in horror.
Sense and reason returns. I was about to become Nicolas! I was about to kill without reason other than I was hungry and crazed. Though I doubt I’d have eaten them, but considering the three weeks I’ve had, I’m not so certain. To give a hint, this place used to be full of rats, mice and bugs. Used to.
I dimly register that the blows have stopped, and I’m hauled to my feet. The pain in my body screams in outrage, and I try to protest, but I can’t talk. Then I’m moving. Blood coats my face, and drips into my eyes, blinding me.
I hear harsh words being thrown around the room, but I don’t know who’s speaking and to whom. Then I feel coldness. The ground tries to eat me, dragging my sore legs down, but I’m being pulled along.
It’s raining. And it’s very loud and windy. The rain washes the blood from my face and eyes, and I can see a dark figure dragging me along. He thrusts something over my mouth, and indicates the cloth covering his mouth. I tie the material around my face, and then we’re running again.
I want to pull back, I want to tell him that the house if safer, and then I see where he’s taking me. The forest, and it’s coming closer with each step. I know Nicolas would have gone by now, but it still creeps me out. I want to pull back, but I’m too weak. So I let the boy dragging me along lead me to my doom, and probably death. I’m going to die anyway.

I open my eyes and wince. I don’t know how long I’ve blacked out for, which worries me. I vaguely remember people and being attacked, and then running, but nothing more.
“Are you alright?” A voice asks above me.
I jump and sit up, eyes darting around for my knife. Three of the fingers on my right hand throb in pain, and the rest of my hand I can barely feel.
“Hey,” the voice says calmly, and a man bends down in front of me. “Are you alright?”
I just blink at him, not knowing what to say. I don’t know what to say. Yes or no? I don’t really know, and I want to express this to the man, but my shoulders hurt.
“I’m Gale,” the man continues. “What’s your name?”
I look around, and notice we’re inside a cave. It’s small, but large enough for a fire and three people to sleep in here with enough space to move around. I can hear the faint trickling of water somewhere, and I lick my lips.
Gale’s hand comes near my face with a cloth, and out of fear, I bite it. He yelps and falls back, clutching his hand in pain, staring at me with wide eyes. I blink, and then look away, ashamed of myself.
“Look, I know you’re afraid,” Gale says, voice etched with anger now, “but I’m not going to hurt you.”
His words hit me harder than the realisation that Nicolas was a cannibal. I look at him with shining eyes and try to smile, but burst into loud tears. I’m not ashamed of the tears, because Kitty always told me that if a man cries, there is nothing wrong with that. It just means he has a heart. So I cried when Dad died.
Gale tentatively moves closer, and I leap into his arms. I hug him tightly, and he tenses out of shock. Slowly and carefully, he wraps his arms around my slender, shaking body, and I bury my face in his shoulder, crying.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok now,” Gale soothes.
I pull away and wipe at my face. Tears and blood coat my jacket sleeve, but I don’t care. I have someone that won’t hurt me now.
“I’m Jetherson Windsdale,” I say, holding out my left hand. “But you can call me Jet. Have you seen my sister? Andraya?” I watch him steadily.
Gale seems shocked by the sudden change in me, but shakes my hand awkwardly. He isn’t left handed then.
“Gale Wakeley,” Gale says. “And I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen your sister anywhere.”
I don’t know whether to be glad or not. I try to think of it as a positive, and smile.
“And thank you … for saving me,” I add.
Gale smiles back. “No problem, Jet. I couldn’t have just stood back and watch you get beaten to death.”
We look at each and shiver simultaneously. I burst out laughing, and soon, Gale joins in. I like him, he’s funny and kind, and I think he’d be good at surviving.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, trying to get up.
Gale pulls me back down. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. We’re not going anywhere until those gashes have healed,” he says.
I frown and stay where I am. My stomach suddenly decides to make an input, and I blush. “Well, I suppose food is a good idea?” I ask.
Gale smiles and rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “It is.”

Henri woke coughing. The late morning sun was hot on the earth, drying the water and ash from last night. There was a heavy wind outside which stirred up the ash and caused it to heavy the air. Inhaling was lethal. Henri brought up her shirt to cover her face with desperately searching for her face mask. No doubt it fell off while she was sleeping, but now she couldn't seem to find it. By the time she was able to secure the cloth around her nose and mouth, she'd already coughed up more blood than she should have and was nauseatingly dizzy.

Once she'd composed herself she stumbled over towards Miles, who'd surprisingly managed to stay asleep through her coughing fit. His mask was still fitted on his face, but she leaned in closer to check anyway. If Miles died then... she didn't know what she would do. She'd just met him but already she felt attached. She would have been dead without him. She was just stepping away from him when she noticed dry tracks of tears on his cheeks. Something in her clenched and she frowned.

'I have to do something,' she thought as she walked around the rest stop, Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a vending machine and rushed over to it as quickly as she could. Of course, most of the food was gone, the glass had already been busted, but there were still some scattered snack packs and candies at the bottom. She grabbed an arm full and dumped it in the middle of the room. Just as she'd started up a small cooking fire, Miles stirred.

"Hey sleepyhead," she greeted brightly, all the while trying to scan for any serious injuries. "I'm just trying to cook us up some breakfast, but we have snacks now. How are you feeling, are you okay?"

Miles

Miles shuddered. His body ached with soreness. He heard someone walking about and instantly opened his eyes, clutching his sword. He realized it was Henri who was up and about starting a fire with something. He also noticed she had a few packs of candy beside her. she called to him and he mutter back, yawning and shivering, trying to wake up. He thought he'd only fallen asleep for about twenty minutes, but from the sunlight pouring through the glass doors it was morning.

The boy spotted a pack of M&M's lying in the colorful pile and snatched it. Henri smiled. but she had a look like she wanted to say something too him. Like she was feeling bad for him.

"What is it?" he asked, ripping open the candy bag and chewing on the chocolate candy. It tasted more amazing then could be described. He looked over at the vending machine that had a few bottles of water left in, as well as some powerade.

Henri looked down. "Hmm? Nothing."

Miles eyed her suspiciously. "Come one now, you aren't acting right."

She looked at him, but avoided eye contact. "what do you mean? I'm acting normal."

He growled. "Henri what is it?"

She looked at him surprised. "You!" she shouted. Miles stepped back. He hadn't suspected her to blow up like this. She continued in an angered tone. "You need help of some kind! you're putting on a show of being fine but I'm not stupid. you're hurting."

Miles scoffed. " I need help? I'm the one who found you and got you out of that dangerous house. I'm the one who killed that maniac last night! I'm the one who carried you here and probably saved your life!" He felt the anger well up inside. "what do you mean I need help?"

Henri's lip quivered. Miles barely noticed though.

"Look, it is not like I'm trying to be ungrateful, but everyone has a breaking point, and you are near that point. I just want to help." She pleaded with him.

"I don't know what you're talking about.Why don't you just shut-" Miles stopped, choking as he watched Henri. A tear rolled down her cheek.

What is my problem? come on Miles, She's trying to help you. Miles stood till unsure of what to do. Henri had turned the other way. Miles wanted to just comfort her. she needed him . . and he needed her. come on! Quit letting your stupid pride get in the way!

Tentatively he took a step forward. He tried to speak but didn't know what to say. Henri was breathing hard and most likely crying. Miles laid a hand on her shoulder. She jumped away, putting her hands in front of her face.

"Stay away! Don't touch me."

Miles ignored and gently grabbed her wrists. Then he looked straight into her eyes, resisting the urge to look away. "I am sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have yelled. Forgive me."

Henri stood, eyes darting back and forth, obviously unsure. Not that Miles blamed her. He didn't wait for a reply.He let go of her arms and just hugged her. Hugged her like a friend . . like he would his sister of she as hurting. and that moment bonded them together, closer than any pair of friends, ever before made. They may not have the same family veins. But they were brother and sister.

Gale Wakeley

Gale huddled in on himself, starvation ravaging his insides. Over the peak of his sleeves, where his arms were crossed over his knees, his dark eyes steadily watched the young boy sleep fitfully in the twisted pile of misfit blankets, scavenged towels, and his jacket. The boy's fiery hair stuck up like fuzz now; it seemed as if it was the only vibrant color he'd seen in the days they'd been in the small cave. Gale felt like the cave's walls were now closing in on them- most likely a side effect of the tightness the lack of food did to his head. The last thing he'd eaten was a stale pop tart an hour before they'd left his first hideout with Morgan and his group, more or less four or five days ago. How long could he go without eating? He could only guess how the kid, Jet, was doing.

Now he had to put in effort to move, instead of the unconscious ability to lift his limbs. He couldn't just put his hand on the wall to help him get up; he had to think and plan and fight himself until he could unsteadily put his weight on the baseball bat, like a makeshift walking stick. He did just that, meandering over to nudge Jet awake. With a moan the boy rolled up to where he could lean on his thin purpled arm to look up at him.

"We need to leave. Find food. We can't stay here any longer, and I don't think anyone's following us. Did you see any towns or buildings around here?"

Jet rubbed his left eye, where a scab was just below it. "I think... I think I might've passed... passed this crop of buildings a little ways south-ish of here, a while ago."

"Do you know how far?" Gale asked, fatigue sneaking like an unwanted snake into his voice. Jet was still beaten up pretty bad, and he relied (even if he wouldn't agree) almost completely on Gale. He'd hate to show how beaten up Gale himself was, to show him how much of a plightful situation they were in.

"Umm... maybe a three-hour walk from here?" Jet said, his eyes slightly foggy. Three hours. Three hours from here, walking. Gale nodded, but did not show the finality he felt inside. He knew they weren't going to make it. The only hope, however futile, was to get in the open and pray like hell that some miracle would come to them. But Gale never relied too much on the hypothetical.

"Okay. Okay, okay okay..." Gale mumbled, turning in a circle to survey the small 'camp'. "Could you... Can you help me pack this stuff up?"

"Yeah... Sure." Jet said, warily standing. After packing only the things they needed, they set off in the direction that was what they both thought was generally in the direction of south. After a few minutes, his breath was pummeling out of Gale's lungs like some laborious animal, and with a worrisome thought, so was Jet's. They haven't even left the tree line yet.

"Jet."

"Yeah."

"Come here."

Gale took off his pack as Jet walked up, and slung it around the boy's shoulders. Gale could see where the wounds had ripped open , blood seeping through the dirty cloth.

"Jump on my back."

"Wh-What?" Jet said, his voice rising slightly. "Your'e not in any better condition than I am."

"It's better than both of us wasting energy at the same time. At least if I fall, you could take care of me and bring us somewhere close to sleep for the night. There's no point in both of us collapsing, for some looter to find us." Gale said. Jet continued to protest, his pride too loud even then to accept it. But finally Gale convinced him, by pointing out the angry wounds on Jet's body. Begrudgingly, Jet climbed on Gale's back, using a stepping stool as leverage. The boy's weight nearly crippled him, but Gale repeated in his head food shelter water Jet Tatiana Dad Ma food Jet Tatiana food, a constant ramble of a chant. Somehow he managed to step forward, with one foot and then the other.

*******

Gale was sure acid was burning through him, spreading through the center of his abdomen. He had stopped walking a while ago, and now it was just pathetic staggering. He couldn't hear, he couldn't smell, he couldn't even see. He just had to keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.

food shelter water Jet Tatiana town south food food food Gale...

Food shelter Gale...

Gale...

"Gale!"

Gale staggered and fell to his knees, and then felt the tickle of ash on his cheek. He felt the jab of Jet's bony knees shifting on his back, but he couldn't cry out as Jet pushed himself up off of him. He had the faint idea that he could hear voices talking, but he had no idea where they were coming from, or if they were just from his own head. Sleep , or more like unconsciousness, called to him in a singing tone, and Gale feverishly stumbled toward it.

Jet

Gale starts to stumble, the words he’d been muttering for the past three hours rambling and becoming one word.
“Gale?” I murmur, my own voice feeble and weak from hunger.
He doesn’t respond. At first I think he hadn’t heard me, but when I say his name louder, he still doesn’t respond.
“Gale!” I scream, and my voice is undignifyingly shrill.
Gale shakes himself and then falls over. I manage a scream, and then we hit the ground. I use as much strength as I have to push myself off of Gale’s back. I roll onto my back and let out a soft sob. Tears streak down my face, and the sun burns my eyes.
“Hey, are you alright?” A voice above me asks.
My eyes snap open and I try to roll over. Ash covers my body as I stand up on wobbly legs. I pull out my knife and hold it out in front of me, my hands shaking.
“Wh-who are y-you?” I stammer.
“Relax I’m not going to hurt you,” a tall man around Gale’s age says, holding out his hands.
He’s very tall, and he has long, black hair with tiny plaits through the ponytail. His clothes a long and baggy, making him look hindered and unable to run.
“Are you hungry?” He asks.
I lick my lips, mouth watering at the thought of food.
“We’re fine,” I snap.
The young man shakes his head. “Come on, I’ll help your friend,” he says.
Even though I have a knife, and I’m showing hostility, he’s going to help me. Tears prick my eyes as I sheathe my knife. I quickly dash them away.
“My name is Vin, by the way,” the young man says.
“I’m Jet,” I tell him. “And that’s Gale.”
I grab the backpack handed to me and follow Vin into a small music shop. We’ve finally reached a town, and we finally have someone that can help us.
Vin sets Gale down on a makeshift bed, fast asleep. I collapse down beside him, mumbling a thank you to Vin, and fall asleep, head resting on Gale’s chest, curled up beside him.

Teagan Elliot

"Come on," I whisper to the tiny flame peaking out from behind a piece of wood I tore off a couch. I blow on it softly and then if erupts in flames and warmth. I clap my hands together at my small victory and lay out my soaked socks next to it to dry.

I lean back staring deeply into the fire adjusting the green bandanna tied around my head covering my mouth and nose. I hear shuffling outside and I quickly dash to the window. 3 figures are trudging through the ash and into a music store across the street. I lock the window and the click comes out louder than usual. The tallest out of the 3 turns to find the source of the sound and I instantly drop to the ground. I hug my knee's to my chest and tighten the grip around my sleeve. After a moment of silence I peek back outside and see the 3 figures now inside the store. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and stand back up straight.

The small sports store I've been hiding in seems darker than usual next to the dim firelight. The baseball equipment makes a shadow against the wall imitating a person freaking me out for a moment before I come to my scenes. I brush off my shirt a bit revealing the Blue number 14 printed printed on the chest. I sigh and let the ash settle back on top of it hiding my history once more.

My stomach aches but I ignore it still saving those last few powerbars for an emergency. I pick up a bat off the shelf, tighten and soak the bandanna and head out. The ash hits my face as soon as I step out of the store. I tighten my grip on the bat before trudging on through the ash. A stay hair falls in my face binding me for a moment before I fling it back behind my ear in a flick on my head. Every sound I hear I finch and turn protectively towards the noise. Every time nobody is there so after a while learn to ignore it. My legs soon tire out and I give up on the idea of saving the powerbars and open up one. I feel instantly better and keeps on going munching on the bar as I go.

"Shit," I hear a voice whisper from behind and I instantly whip around to see who said it.

Nobody, must of been just the wind. I trudge on through the ash till the bar is gone. I take one more good look around for anyone then swing the bat onto my shoulder and jog back to the little shop.