Young Writers Society

Vin Deayer

The rain had ended, roasting the sludge that had been left by the torrential rain. Vin had found some canned ravioli, a little camping stove, and though ravioli wasn't his favourite food, he was tucking in. It was better to eat while he still could, and being picky was something he had often reprimanded Lillie for. The stove was the only thing producing heat in the small room, but he couldn't leave it on for too long. Gas was precious now, and he wouldn't waste it.

When he was done, he chucked the can into the sink and traipsed down into the store to see what music they had. Even if he couldn't play it, songs he knew and loved played in my head. The rain outside had made it impossible to leave the store without ending up ankle deep in sludge. He was waiting to see what would happen now that the sun ha come out. He didn't want to risk getting caught, but he didn't want to leave it too long either.

“Gale!” A shrill voice called from outside, startling Vin slightly. He walked over to the door, cracking it open apprehensively. Two boys were lying on the ground under the sun, one face down, a black guy, the other on his back. That could be Lillie, somewhere, flashed through his mind, and just like that he couldn't leave them there to die. He edged out, making sure there wasn't anyone else alive in the street before hurrying over to them.
“Hey, are you alright?” Vin asked carefully. The boy lying on his back tried to roll over, standing on shaking legs. His shock of red hair was covered in ash He's only a kid... The other boy seemed older, near Vin's age, but he couldn't tell. The boy held a knife in front of him, evidently scared.
“Wh-who are y-you?” The boy asked nervously.
“Relax I’m not going to hurt you,” Vin held out his hands, showing he didn't have anything that could hurt the boy.
“Are you hungry?” He asked. They didn't look like they had eaten recently, and even though Vin told himself he shouldn't care, but it didn't work. The boy licked his dried lips.
“We’re fine,” the red haired boy retorted, more than wary. Vin shook his head. One last try. Imagine he was Lillie's friend.
“Come on, I’ll help your friend." The boy hesitated, then put away the knife. Vin tried to ignore his tears. The guy on the ground didn't look good. “My name is Vin, by the way."
“I’m Jet and that’s Gale.”
Vin grabbed the surprisingly light backpack and chucked it in the direction of Jet, leaning over to pick up the other one, Gale. They were a surprising group and Vin wondered how they had met.
Freaking dead weight, he groaned mentally as he lead Jet into the music shop, up the stairs to the apartment. He had found a camp bed in a cupboard, and there was a sofa bed in one corner. The apartment only had two room, a large kitchen/diner/lounge/bedroom and a bathroom. Vin set Gale down on the sofa bed and watched Jet curl up next to him like a cat, head on Gale's chest, mumbling tiredly. It was like they were siblings. It made Vin wish that Lillie was there.

What are you doing, Vin? He asked himself. Even one more person means less food for you and everyone when you find them. You can't give it up to a stranger. Vin shook his head at his thoughts. He still had a conscience. He dragged the camp bed in front of the few cupboards with food in them. Making sure the other two were asleep, he retrieved his satchel from where he had left it and took out his notebook. He found a pencil and started sketching the music store from the outside, then, once he was done, the two boys lying asleep on the bed, quickly. A quick round up of the day appeared in blue ink, then the book fell shut and was placed carefully back inside the satchel next to Lillie's teddy. Vin stared at it for a few seconds, then closed the bag and swung his legs up onto the camp bed, staring at Jet and Gale until he fell asleep.

Andraya

I remember the first day of school in America. If I were still in Australia, I’d be in year twelve, and not have to worry about school for the rest of my life afterwards. Turns out, in America, there is college.
I slowly walk into the room, my feet dragging underneath me. The teacher was a kind woman, thin and tall with strawberry blonde hair dangling over her shoulders in French braids.
“Hello Andraya,” she says with a tinkling voice, “I’m Miss T.”
Her gaze is so open, so kind. Her bright brown eyes seem to never end. I can see right into her soul. I can see the cruel boyfriend, the misunderstanding family, the unsupportive friends, the love for her brother trying to get over a drug addiction …
I shake my head to clear it. I let a smile curve my lips slowly. Mum always told me I have a nice smile, and that whenever you’re scared, smile.
“Come stand over here and tells us a bit about yourself,” Miss T says, beaconing me over with a slender hand.
Slowly, I stalk to the front of the room, my messenger bag pulling at my shoulder. I stop, my smile widening stupidly, and spin around to face the class. They all stare at me with bored expressions, assuming I’m another red-head American girl. At this thought, my smile changes to a more genuine one.
“Hey everyone,” I say, thickening my Australian accent. Everyone sits up, staring at me with wide eyes. “I’m Andraya, and I’m sure you’ve gathered from the accent that I’m an Aussie.”
I make to sit down, but Miss T stops me. “Where abouts in Australia are you from?” She asks.
“A small country town in the south west of the western state where it’s cold and no body likes anyone from the towns outside of yours,” I rattle. People start to laugh. “Can I please sit down now?”
Miss T smiles. “Alright Andraya, you may.”
Just the way she says makes me angry. And just for that, as soon as I walk into the class for the rest of the day, I quickly tell the class I’m Australian and that I lived in a small, country town. And after that, I was left alone. I couldn't have been happier.
“Andraya, are you alright?” Griff asks, snapping me from my revery.
I look at him and smile. The past week has brought us closer than I could have imagined. It was all I could do not to hug him when he said he’d look after me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.
“Ok, good,” he stops and walks over to me. “Because you’re kinda walking in the other direction.”
I blush and let him lead me back onto the footpath we’ve been following. At his side, Ash barks and wags her tail. I scratch behind her ear and smile.
“Andraya, are you sure you’re ok?” Griff presses.
I nod. “I promise. I’m just … remembering stuff, that’s all,” I tell him.
Griff nods, and we press on, trudging through the ash, hoping it doesn’t start to rain again.

Henrietta Jones

Henri pulled back and wiped her eyes again. These past few days had been so emotionally and physically draining. Her hands shook as she reached for her cane, and a wave of vertigo hit her when she clutched it. She stumbled and only stopped herself from falling by leaning heavily on her walking stick. Miles rushed over and steadied her by throwing an arm over her shoulders.

"Woah there," he warned, "take a seat. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine I just need-"

"Medicine, right. I'll get it."

Henri watched him run over to their pile of supplies and rummage around for her pill bottle. He came back with two iron pills in the palm of his hand and an opened can on creamed corn. He handed both to her and she swallowed them greedily. The cold corn made her cringe, but it filled her stomach and eased the growing pains.

Only when she was done stuffing her face did she noticed the worried look on Miles'.

"What's wrong?"

"Those were your last two," he mumbled.

"My last two..."

"Medicine. You're out of medicine."

Henri's eyes widened and she jumped up from her spot - well, in her head she was jumping up, but really it was more of a slow progression to her feet. Miles helped her up, frowning the entire time.

"We have to find more," she panted.

"Slow down, we-"

"No, like right now Miles! You don't understand I'll die. Quickly. I didn't know how low I was getting. I thought... crap. Crap! We have to find more, please. Please help me."

Miles grimaced before looking away and off into the distance. The sun was starting to get low in the sky. They didn't have much daylight left to burn.

"Fine. We'll go looking."

Miles

Miles stood still. Where do we go? I guess down the road we were headed.
He grabbed all the candy bars he could find, as well as two bottles of water, then swung the backpack over his shoulder. Henri looked like she had recovered for now, but he didn't know how long she could hold on. Probably a few days at the most.

"Let's go."

He pushed the glass doors open and stepped into the warm sunlight. Surprisingly enough, the sun was not blocked by any grey clouds. That's a first. Maybe the air is starting to clear. He made sure his rag was on tight and began to push his way through the ash.


Two hours later a city loomed ahead. An actual city, not just some small town. Miles smiled.

"We can probably find some supplies here," Henri said.

Was there a glint of hope in her voice?

Miles advanced. The towers loomed high, at least a couple hundred feet. Some of them were leaning on each other, and Miles avoided getting close. Most were glass buildings, and they reflected the ash on the ground. The pair worked their way into the city, looking for a drugstore of some kind.

Henri spotted it first. It was called CVS Pharmacy. They entered the smaller building. The lights were all out and the whole place smelled of disinfectant and medicines. Just enough light shone through to show that the shelves had been ransacked.

Henri sighed as they stepped back out into the sunlight. "Where did everybody go?"

Miles looked around, squinting. All he saw were tall towers. He was quite impressed with them. He had never been to a big city like this before.

"I don't know. Maybe there's a shelter nearby. Or maybe they all fled. I'm, sure a lot of them didn't make it out." He re-positioned his backpack. "You think you can move on? Yo look a little tired."

Henri nodded. "Yeah, I can go on."

Miles turned around and stopped. Six men stood, pistols aimed at him and Henri. "Henri . . ."

She turned around and gasped. Miles clasped her hand to make sure she didn't fall in case she got dizzy.

All the men were dressed in jeans and a ragged t-shirt.They also all wore cowboy hats and had rags tied around their mouths, and all looked quite hungry. But the one in the middle, the tallest of them all, seemed to be the leader. He had a long scar on his right forearm. He spoke in a gruff, desperate voice.

"Well, well, well, lookie boys." He let out a guttural laugh. " Are you lovers?"

Miles nearly laughed. "What? Lovers?"

"Well why are ya holdin' hands then?" The man turned to the others. "It'll be sweet to see 'em die together."

Miles palms were wet with sweat, and his heart wasn't exactly at rest, but he tried to keep a level tone. It failed. "K-ki-Killed? W-why?"

"It's this thing called hunger. Take 'em boys."

The five men approached. One of them aimed his pistol straight at Henri. Miles jumped in the way. He braced for the bullet, but the leader of the . . . cannibals shouted: "Stop. Don't shoot. We don't want to 'lert others of our position. Take 'em by hand."

Miles brain began to church. The couldn't shoot. Then they would have to chase them. He whispered to Henri. "Run for the pharmacy. Don't look back. Ready, set . . . Go!"

Henri unclasped his hand and took off. The closest man lunged after her, but swung forward with his fist. It collided into the man's jaw with all the force Miles could muster. His knuckles burst into pain as they collided with the jaw, and Miles let out a grunt. The man spun backwards, nearly losing his balance.

Not waiting for them to recover, Miles took off, straight for the pharmacy. He shoved open the doors and spotted Henri, holding herself up with the counter. She looked faint. Her skin was pale and her eyes looked blood-shot. This physical activity was taking it's toll.

He grabbed her around the waist and carried her deep into the farthest corner, away from the sunlight. Just as he stood to look for an exit, the doors crashed in as the gang of men entered. Miles quietly drew his katana from his back and looked at the surroundings. He was on the far left wall with six aisles separating him from the men. Henri was nearly directly behind him.

To the right were the bathrooms. There wasn't a way out there. Where was the fire exit? Miles looked around but couldn't see any doors. He could barely see the dingy white walls.

"Spread out men! Find those kids and kill 'em." he heard the leader shout.

Wow what hunger did to a man!

Miles crept to forward and slipped into the first aisle. He looked across the empty shelves. Two of them men headed Henri's direction, one for the bathroom, and the other three on the left side of the aisles. Miles got to his knees. He tried to still his breathing, but it sounded like a dying mule, being forced up a mountain with a ton of bricks on his back. Not quiet.

He watched there boots under the shelves as they came closer and closer and . . . Now!

Miles jumped to his feet, swinging his sword in a sideways arc. The blade caught two of the men square in the gut. Blood went all over the place. Both of the men's faces showed complete shock. But Miles had no time for that. He yanked the sword back. The leader of the group, the only one of the three not hit by the sword, attacked, clobbering Miles. He slammed into the floor driving the wind out of his lungs. He felt like he couldn't move. There was no oxygen.

The first fist caught him in the jaw, yanking it violently to the left. Miles tried to get his arms up, but realized that the leader had pinned them down with his knees. Another swing came, jerking his head the other way. The pain was unimaginable. Think Miles!

Then he heard Henri scream. With all his force-some of which he didn't know he had- he swung his feet back, straight into the attacker's back. The man yelled crazily and sailed off of Miles who pushed himself up. However ,he had lost his katana. He looked around frantically. Henri screamed again.

Miles saw the leader of the gang getting back up, rage in his eyes. But Miles was more focused on the gun hanging from his pocket. He dove for it and clasped the cold steel, then landed hard on the ground, behind his foe.

Ignoring him, Miles headed straight for Henri. He could see three shapes looming in front of her. One of them reached down. Miles pulled the trigger. The gun jerked in his hands and echoed like a cannon in the small store. The bullet ripped through the ceiling send plaster raining down.

The three attackers turned. One of them began to pull his pistol out. Miles skidded to a stop. The man had the gun out now. Miles froze, gun pointed directly at him. The man raised the pistol. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Shoot him Miles! he's going to kill you

Suddenly everything was going at a hundred miles an hour as he pulled the trigger. The gun barked again, jerking his hands back. The bullet tore into his assailant, sending him spinning back into the wall, then crashing to the ground, moaning loudly.

"Look out behind you Miles!" Henri screamed.

Miles turned around in time to his original attacker running straight at him. Miles squeezed the trigger twice out of reflexes. The man was so close that the blood splattered onto Miles's hands.

The man stopped short, but Miles turned back to Henri. The two other gang members had their pistols out. One of them fired. Miles was driven to the ground by a powerful force, and fire ripped through his chest.

He faintly heard Henri scream as everything became foggy and muted. Blackness was enveloping. Tears flooded his eyes. Poor Henri

Andraya

“Hey, is that a city?” Griff asks, pointing to the tall sky scrapers ahead of us.
“I doubt there’d be anyone there,” I grumble.
I’ve been lapsing in and out of sanity, and Griff has been patient and calm, helping me recover from my slight shock when I wake up, thinking I had a nightmare.
“No, there’ll be people there,” Griff says, grabbing my hand.
He pulls me after him he sets off at a fast pace toward the shining buildings, Ash loping beside us happily, tong lolling from her mouth, tail wagging. I concentrate on the back of Griff’s blonde head.
We reach the city within ten minutes, and it’s oddly quiet. I pull out my knife and creep forward. Griff and Ash follow. We continue to walk silently, eyes scanning every broken window, open shop and small alleyway for any signs of life. As we near the middle of the city, Ash pricks her ears forward, growling low. All of my father’s training kicks in, and I drop into a crouch.
“What is it girl?” Griff whispers beside me. I look at him to see he’s followed my moves.
Ash stalks forward a couple of steps, and then darts around a corner. I quickly follow with Griff at my heels. Ash is standing beside a pile of rubble, staring at a smashed in shop, growling. I look over to see shadows moving, and voices.
“Do you think they’re dangerous?” Griff whispers at my side, and I jump.
“I … I don’t know,” I murmur, my heart rate slowing down.
Ash creeps toward the store, and Griff calls her name softly. She doesn’t stop, merely pauses to glance at us before continuing. I leap over the rubble to grab her collar, when I hear a gunshot.
I freeze where I am. My fingers have only just brushed Ash’s collar, and her hackles rise. She growls low, but my reflexes act quicker, and grab her collar. Behind me I dimly hear Griff calls us back, but my body won’t move me. Something is telling me to go forward, to see who fired the shot.
More shots, and my hearing becomes blank. All I can hear are the gunshots, and a girl’s scream. Ash pulls at my grip, whining. But I can't hear her. I know she’s whining because that’s what dogs do when you hold their collar when they try to run forward. A hand grabs my forearm, and suddenly, I can hear again.
“Andraya, we have to go!” Griff yells into my face.
I shake my head. “No! Someone needs help!” I find myself yelling back.
“Andraya –”
I pull myself from Griff’s hold and let go of Ash’s collar it was cruel of me, but as she races off, I raise an eyebrow. Griff now has no choice but t go after his dog. The pained look he gives me wrenches my heart, but I don’t dwell on that for long. I spin around, gripping my knife harder in my hand, and run after Ash.
I can hear another scream, and then one more shot. I hear some more screaming, and Ash’s claws clicking on the plastic floor of the pharmacy. I find her standing beside a shelf, ears perked forward. I stop and lean over her to get a look. There are two men standing up, one on the ground, and a girl pressed against the wall. One of the men standing up has a gun, pointed at the man on the floor. An idea comes to mind just as Griff reaches me.
“Speak, Ash,” I say in the dog’s ear.
A whine starts in her throat, and then she barks, loud and savage. The sound echoes through the small shop, making the two men turn to look in our direction. The gun is suddenly aimed at us, and I pull Ash back as a bullet ricochets off the plastic floor. I run down the aisle and turn the corner. I sprint as fast as I can toward the two men making a few steps toward Griff and Ash. I leap over the fallen man with a roar and collide with the man with the gun, my knife lodging itself deep into his chest. We hit the ground hard, and I roll off of the dead man. The gun slides across the floor beside me as the other man whirls on me. I pick it up and stare at it.
The man in front of me pauses, and I shrug. I hold the gun up and pull the trigger. I’m flung backwards, and when I sit up, the man is dead. Griff gapes at me, mouthing, ‘You just killed two men!’ All I can do is shrug and nod.
“Miles!” A girl screams.
Both Griff and I turn to see the girl leaning over the fallen man. I breathe a curse and drop the gun, running over to his side. The girl is staring at him, her hands hovering over his shoulders in shock. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, and plopping onto the man’s face. I look at him, and realise he’s unconscious.
“Is he dead?” Griff asks, kneeling down beside me.
“I don’t know!” I snap, and feel for a pulse. Surprisingly, it’s quite strong, but his breathing is shallow. “He’s still alive … somehow.”
I grab Griff’s knife and start hacking away at the man’s shirt. I pull it away from his thin body to find a bullet hole in his side. It looks like it missed some vital organs, but he’s losing blood quickly.
A first-aid kit suddenly appears by my side, and Griff moves me out of the way. He starts to work on the man’s side. He pulls out the bullet and drops it on the floor. He then starts wiping at the blood, and then shoving a bandage over it to stem the flow.
“We need to seal the wound first,” he says.
I help the girl sit up the man as Griff bandages him up. As soon as that’s done, we lie him back down and watch his chest rise and fall slowly, his breathing jagged and wheezy. The girl sobs and wipes the hair from his face. She looks up at us with gratitude in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says.
I smile sweetly. “Hey, no problem. I’m sure you’d have done the same for either of us,” I say. I hold out my hand, remembering manners. “I’m Andraya, by the way.”
“Henrietta,” she says, shaking my hand. “But, please, call me Henri.”
“And I’m Griff,” Griff grumps, sad I left him out.
Henri smiles and shakes his hand. Ash comes over and whines, nudging at Griff’s arm. He chuckles and throws it over Ash’s shoulders.
“And this is Ash,” he says. Ash barks, wagging her tail.
The man on the floor groans. Henri looks down at him sadly again, cradling his head in her lap. She looks about ready to pass out, but she won’t leave his side, I can tell.
“And this is Miles,” she murmurs. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”
A small smile plays across my lips. I know the feeling. A moment of silence passes before I inhale loudly and look around. “We should get some sleep,” I declare.
“I agree,” Griff says slowly. “We’ll stay here till Miles comes to.”
I nod and lie down where I am. Ash comes and curls up beside me, and I hug her close, instantly warm, closing my eyes. Above me, Griff laughs.
“She’s really strange,” he tells Henri. There is a slight pauses. “It’s ‘cause she’s Australian,” he adds.
“I heard that,” I growl groggily, and then fall asleep.

Henrietta Jones

Henri stays up, alert, until the two new people fall asleep. Only when she hears their soft snores does she move into action. It's difficult getting up from her sitting position, hurts to push herself to her feet, but this is for Miles. They were in a pharmacy thankfully, she'd have everything she needed to help him if he needed it. The other boy, Griff, patched him up thankfully. She didn't know if she would have been able to handle it then.

Henri stumbled through the aisles, grabbing pain medicine, wipes, alcohol, and band-aids with flowers on them because they made her feel better about the situation in general. Once she had a basket full, she went into the pharmacy where they locked up the strong medicine, the type she needed. They had only one bottle of her pills left. She'd have to make them last. She shook two into the palm of her hand, thought about it, put one back and them swallowed the remainder. It would be enough to keep her from dying at least.

She let out a defeated sigh before moving over to where Miles lay. She sat down next to him and moved his head into her lap, examining the scars and cuts. They weren't anything major, far less serious that the bullet wound. But she needed to make sure. Carefully she cleaned and covered the cuts and scrapes. Next came the pills. They were the strongest she could find. She shook him gently, and after a while he blinked sleepily up at her.

"Hen..ri?"

"Hey," she greeted softly.

"You're not dead," he mumbled.

She laughed and shook her head.

"Not yet. Here, take these you'll feel better."

She placed the pills in his mouth and tried to help him swallow. He screwed up his face in pain before letting his head drop back down.

"Hurts."

"Yeah, I know," she replied with a frown. "Just sleep okay."

Apparently, she didn't need to tell him twice. He closed his eyes and was out in a second. Henri watched him sleep for a minute before turning her attention to the two newcomers, Andraya and Griff. She was thankful that they saved her life, but for some reason she didn't feel completely safe around them. It made no sense to be wary, but being paranoid is what she did best.

She made a mental note to find out more about the two and let herself sleep.

Miles


Miles woke up groggily. He was on the ground, laid out. A few beams of moonlight peeked through the doors of the pharmacy. Miles remembered Henri giving him some disgusting pill, and then he was out.

His head ached and pounded liked tom toms, he was starving, and his whole body was sore. Oh, and his bladder hurt bad too. He tried to push himself up, being as quiet as possible. His side burst into indescribable pain, like flashes of electricity shooting through him. He inhaled deeply, trying to hold back a cry of pain.

He waited for a few seconds, then pushed himself up again. The pain returned, and Miles couldn't help the whimper he let out, nor the two tears that rolled down his cheeks. He looked over and saw that Henri, and two other people were still sleeping. Two other people? Miles pushed himself up hard, thinking only of Henri's safety.

He felt dizzy and crumpled back to the ground, landing awkwardly on his injured side. He let out a yell and began to cry freely, letting the tears ac as messengers ,taking the pain out of his body. He heard commotion to his side and saw a girl, well she looked about Henri's age, stand up and come over. The others slowly stirred.

She smiled at Miles. "Hey, don't move. You need to lie still," she gently said, rolling him onto his back.

He shook his head. "No, I uh . . ."

The girl looked at him. "You what?"

"I uh . . . need to get to the bathroom." Miles gave a weak smile.

The girl wiped away a few tears and stood. "Oh . . . okay. Griff!"

The other newcomer who looked older than Miles came over, rubbing his eyes. Dark circles hung under them. "Yeah Andraya, what is it?"

"The kid needs to use the restroom."

Griff nodded. "Okay. We need to get you up slowly and gently. Henri, can you help?"

Henri came over. Miles breathed a sigh of relief. She looked like she was doing fine. Maybe she had found some pills. Griff grabbed his left arm, Henri and Andraya his right, and they slowly lifted him ,careful not to jostle him. Successfully they got him on his feet without much pain.

Miles said, "Thank you," and then headed for the bathroom.

"Hey, you might need some help," Grif said, following him.

Miles didn't object.



Ten minutes later he walked out, being helped by Griff. They laid him against a wall, then Griff sat down. Henri sat down besides Miles, and Andraya besides Grif. Miles studies then. Griff wheres a rag around his mouth, and sunglasses on his eyes, so you can only see a little of his face. His hair is a light brown. He looks like a pretty decent fellow. About college age.

Miles turned to Andraya. She had red hair, green gorgeously dazzling eyes, a soft complexion, and rag tied about her mouth. She seemed kind like Griff.

Exhaustion was taking over Miles again, but he didn't want to sleep.Everyone sat still for a few seconds. Then Andraya let out a meow! Henri and Griff just stared at her. Miles inexplicably burst into laughter. IT seemed like the first funny thing someone had said. But the shaking of his ribs hurt and he was cut off mid-laugh. Andraya smile turned to a frown.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that would hurt you. Just trying to lighten things up."

"No, no," Miles said, waving his hand, "I needed that. First funny thing that's happened in a while. Thanks."

"Well," Griff said, "I don't know about you, but I am really tired. Goodnight all. Lemme know if you need any help."

Everyone said goodnight, and then Andraya slipped off to sleep eventually. Henri and Miles sat their in the silence for several minutes. It felt good to just sit there, not having to worry about anything for the moment.

Henri's head rolled onto Miles right shoulder, and he didn't bother to move it.

"Good night Miles."

"Good night Henri. You mean a lot to me. You're just like a sister. I really don't know how I would've made it without you. I . . . love you. Not in a romantic way, but in a friend kind of way. I can't explain it really. Thanks."

But Henri was already asleep.

Gale Wakeley

Gale woke to dirty water dribbling into his mouth and down his chin. He coughed on it, and attempted to sit up, only to be pushed back down. He opened his eyes and peered at Jet's freckled face, but the boy's expression was back to its unemotional blank slate. He accepted the water and reached to hold the crinkled plastic water bottle.

"Sorry I don't have any water that's cleaner." For a wild moment he panicked at the unfamiliar voice, and reached to stand. He got as far as sitting up before Jet rested his hand on his shoulder and nodded, telling him that's it's okay. Gale cagily squinted towards the long-haired rangy figure that sat on the floor with his elbow propped up on his knee, looking at them offhandedly, where the cold and contemptuous voice had originated from.

"Would you be the one I'd want to thank for saving us?" Gale asked, noticing the music shop's interior in his peripheral vision.

"A thank-you-very-much isn't going to get us food. Or water." The last word stabbed at the empty bottle resting in his hand. The shop filled with a testy silence, only broken when Jet stood to stretch. "Yeah, he came just as you passed out. He's been letting us stay here since. Oh yeah, this is Vin. Vin, Gale."

"How long have I been out?" Gale asked.

"About one in a half days. Maybe two." He replied. Jet stepped over a pile of music books on the floor and reached for something hidden from Gale's point of view, returning with a horribly busted up can of cold cream corn. He handed to Gale, who unhappily peeked into the dull yellow mush, made even less appetizing by the bleak light in the shop. He felt Vin's eyes on him, and he tipped the can back and slurped.

"Thanks." He said it to Jet, but it was also intended for Vin. Jet just nodded.

There was a moment of silence, filled only with Gale's slurping. Gale ultimately put the can down as Vin asked, "So, how'd you two meet?"

Gale and Jet looked at each other. Gale's mind rushed for a deficient lie, something to cover up his old buddies' faces like old times, but then Jet spoke.

"I was out in an abandoned house by myself when we ran into each other. He was with another group, but we split ways with them and went on our own. We've been traveling since then." He acted like that was all that had happened, even as the evidence remained on his body. Vin either must have not had detected it, didn't care, or didn't want to push further.

"What about you?" Gale asked. "What's your story?"

Andraya

I lie awake, listening to the exchange between Henri and Miles. I don’t mean to be eavesdropping, but I can’t sleep. When I can hear the steady breathing of three – sorry, four – creatures in the pharmacy, I stand up and walk to the caved in door.
My thoughts, once again, are on Jet. If my little brother really is alive and out there, somewhere, then I doubt I’d be able to find him. And besides, this hopeless optimism is stupid. Like hell he’d be alive. How could he have survived the falling of the ash?
“Andraya?”
I spin around to see Henri standing behind me, rubbing her eyes. I smile and she step up beside me to stare at the night sky. No ash is falling, and the clouds have cleared somewhat.
“What are you doing up?” Henri asks.
I shrug. “Dunno. Just … can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking about my brother a lot,” I admit.
Henri sighs; a sad sound full of sorrows I may never truly understand. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to miss family,” she says quietly.
“Siblings?” I ask, glancing at her.
“Parents,” she tries to smile. “What about you? Do you miss your parents too?”
I debate whether to tell Henri my sad story. Sure she was nearly shot not long ago, and Miles could have died right in front of her, and she’s probably seen and heard countless other horrors. So why add to that list? But her question is full of genuine curiosity.
“I miss my … family, yes,” I look to the sky again. “My Dad died a few years ago, though. In a car accident. But I had to bury my Mum and two younger brothers. My other brother, Jet, I didn’t find. I don’t know if he’s alive … but I hope he is.”
Henri hugs me. I hug her back, and we cry a little for lost family. When we step away from each other, I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a friend in Henri. I smile at her, and she returns the smile.
“How old is your brother?” She asks suddenly.
I sigh loudly. “Thirteen … I think.”
Of course I know how old my brother is! I just don’t know how much he’s changed. Maybe he acts like a thirty year old. Maybe he doesn’t. My heart aches so much, I miss him more than I miss Dad at the moment.
“Andraya … before, when you made the cat sound,” Henri begins tentatively, “why did you do that?”
A smile spreads across my lips. “It’s what I used to do all the time to cheer people up before my Dad died. Whenever someone was upset, I’d meow like a cat. I got the nickname Kitty,” my smile becomes sad. “Jet never called me Andraya. He only called me Kitty.”
Henri smiles, then yawns. “Well, I’m going to go back to sleep. You should too … you don’t look very good, no offence,” she gives me a sheepish look.
I chuckle. “I probably look like crap, yeah. Alright,” I walk with her, casting one more, wistful glance at the sky. I wonder if Jet’s looking at the sky now, as I am. If he’s alive, of course.

Marco Roman

Marco quickly pocketed his cigarette pack and kicked the door shut with his foot, hurrying down the street. The one that had tried to steal his cigs, the male, he'd been knocked out, and then Marco quickly knocked out the female. Better get out of here while he could.

His feet carried him into town and he cursed under his breath. Being out in public like this, without a weapon, didn't feel right. He could be attacked at any moment,

Marco quickly found a bar and slowly nudged the door open. Chances were, the bar tender would have a gun underneath the bar for precaution. Whether it was loaded was a different story.

The coast was clear. Marco quickly ran in and searched the bar. Sure enough, there was a fire arm with a full round in it. Marco sighed in relief. Sure, he didn't know how to use it, but at least he stood a chance if attacked.

He made his way back over to the door, not paying attention, and slipped on a bear bottle. He landed in a pile of shattered glass and fought back a cry as a piece of glass tore a gash down his left forearm. Quickly scrambling up, he looked around the bar and grabbed a rag lying on a table.

The rag would work for all about an hour. Already, blood was seeking through the material. Hurrying out of the bar, his free hand occupied with putting pressure on his pathetic tourniquet, he stumbled down to where he knew a pharmacy was and yelled in frustration when he saw that the door was caved in.

He crumpled against the door and panted, trying to think through the pain. There's got to be a way in. The windows? It was worth a try.

Carefully, he placed the gun in his pocket and picked up a rock with his right hand and lobbed it at the window, which cracked loudly. He winced and looked around. No one seemed to hear.

The dust started to kick up and his smoker cough kicked in. Marco started to weez and picked up another rock, throwing it again. The window shattered and he heard someone scream from inside the pharmacy. Someone was inside.

Marco quickly took the gun out of his pocked and held it tightly, but kept it lowered. His arm continued to bleed. "I don''t want trouble. Just some bandages. Let me get those and I'll be on my way." He said loudly. "I've a gun. Don't try anything stupid."

Andraya

There is the sound of shattering glass, and Henri’s screams. I’m jolted from a fitful slumber, and sit up. There was loud coughing, followed by words I can’t quite make out over the roaring of blood in my ears.
“What the bloody hell?” Griff begins, sitting up.
I grab my knife and run down the isles to come face to face with a tall guy holding a gun. I pause, gripping my hunting knife tighter, and glare up at the man.
“I’m warning you, don’t try anything. I just want some bandages,” he rasps.
I notice blood seeping through a rag on his left forearm. I consider him for a moment, and then step aside. He shuffles into the pharmacy, giving me a warning look. I smile flippantly and follow him.
“What did you do?” I ask casually.
He grunts. “None of your damn business,” he growls.
He’s searching the shelves for bandages. I know there are still a few left over from when we had to fix Miles, and I’m not too sure if they’re the only ones left in the pharmacy.
I lean against the end of an isle and study the nails of my left hand, flipping the hunting knife in my right nonchalantly. The guy gives me a look as though I’m crazy, but continues searching the shelves.
“You won’t find any there,” I mutter.
He rounds on me. “Will you just piss off,” he snarls. “I can’t concentrate with your bloody annoying accent.”
With a glare, I retort, “Do you want some help or not?”
“No, now get lost,” he shoves his face in front of mine as he spits out the words, then walks away.
“Andray, what’s going on?” Griff asks, coming up behind me.
“Grumpy bum needs bandages,” I huff.
“Who … never mind. The only bandages left are with the first-aid kit,” Griff says, giving me a strange look.
“Ok, give me a minute. Go stay with Henri and Miles,” I tell Griff, and after giving me a warning look, he walks away.
Ash yips beside me, her tail wagging back and forth enthusiastically. I smile and pat her head, then my smile turns to a frown when I hear a muttered curse and footsteps. The injured guy walks back down the isle and stops just in front of me, hands on his hips.
“Alright, where are they?” he growls.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say innocently, giving him a sweet, childish smile.
The man growls and leans forward, his gun all too obvious in his hand. “Where are the bandages?” He snarls.
“Where are the bandages, please?” I correct.
He grits his teeth. “Where are they, please?”
I smile and hold out my hand. “I’m Andraya, and if you introduce yourself, I’ll show you,” I tell him.
The man gives me an incredulous look, and hesitantly shakes my hand. “I’m Marco … and you’re a bloody weirdo,” he says.
With a nod I let go of his hand and spin around to walk back to the others. Marco glances down at Ash and then follows me. He mutters things under his breath, and then begins coughing as we near Griff, Henri and Miles.
“Why are you coughing?” I throw over my shoulder.
“I’ll say it once and never again: None of your damn business,” Marco gives me an almighty glare.
With a huff, I turn to face Griff. “We need bandages for gru – Marco, he’s hurt his arm,” I tell him.
Griff narrows his eyes at Marco, and then gets some bandages. “Here, and if you need help, just ask,” he says almost reluctantly.
Marco nods silently and takes the roll.
“You’re gonna be staying here for a while,” I whisper and then sit down beside Griff. Marco gives me a shocked look.

Miles

It was morning . . . or evening. Miles couldn't tell. He was awakened by a crashing sound and voices. Then watched as Andraya conversed with a male. He looked to be about twentyish, raggedly dressed, not shaved. But the biggest thing was the blood all over his arm. Grif was wrapping it up with a bandage. Henri stood behind them, watching silently. It didn't look like she was too trusting in the newcomer.

Miles didn't blame her either. For obvious reasons it was unwise too trust anybody.He looked at Andraya and Grif. They were trustworthy. At last they seemed to be. Why would they help him if they weren't?

Miles was braced against the white wall. He slowly stood, positioning himself so that the majority of his weight leaned against the wall. Grunting and wincing as little bolts of lightning flashed through his insides, he pulled himself to full height. Then he began to slowly shuffle for the bathroom. It seemed like it took an hour, even though the door was only twenty feet away. Mils felt like he had no energy.

He pushed himself forward, finally reaching the swinging door. He paused, breathing in deeply, careful not to exhale fast, which would expand his chest and stomach, causing pain to the injury He realized that he didn't even know what had happened the past few days. The last thing h remembered before coming to, was the men leaning over Henri. He shuddered at the thought.

Pushing on, he made it to the bathroom sink and looked in the mirror. He looked awful! His face was cleaned due to Henri cleaning of the scrapes and cuts, but his hair was a tornado of brown. His shirt was ripped, ash-smudged, bloodied up, and there was a gaping hole near his right side where the bullet had hit him. His jeans were mostly gray, blood was splattered on them as well, and his shoes looked plenty ragged.


Ten minutes later he had made it out with minimal pain. Henri helped him to the caved-in doors. He enjoyed the feeling of few slits of sunlight the pushed through, warming his face.

"So," he began, realizing the speaking took a lot of energy, "who's the new fellow? He sure looks banged up."

Henri nodded, steadying Miles. "Yeah, he says his name is Marco."

Miles nodded, "Cool name. Anything . . anything else?" I have no air in my lungs! I just want to talk!

"Not really. Says he wants a drink, and that how he got her is none of anybody else's business. He sure is grumpy."

Miles understood it. "Well he's probably just being cautious. Better safe than sorry. Look, . . . there are some candy bars in my backpack. Why don't you give them out. Also,there is plenty of . . . water to be had from the sinks. See if you can find some bottles to fill wit water."

Henri stepped away, and walked past Andraya who was coming to Miles. He looked up at her. "Hey."

She smiled. "Hi. Feeling OK?"

Miles nodded, grinning at her Australian accent. He loved Australian accents. " Yeah, I am fine . . . out of breath."

"Logically after being shot."

"On that subject . . . thank you for showing up wen you did Henri and me owe you and your friend a debt of gratitude."

"No, not really."

"how so?" Miles asked It didn't exactly make sense.

. "Well look, Grif and I are really glad we ran into you. Just two is a pretty lonely number for traveling. Running into you was a good fortune to us."

Miles thought about it. It made sense he figured, although he would only be a hindrance to them. It was frustrating really. He basically was just baggage.

Henri walked up, handing both Andraya and Miles candy bars. "Here you go," she said, and then walked off towards the restrooms. "Could you come with me Andraya?"

The girl nodded and they went off together.

Miles spotted Grif and Marco both coming his way. He leaned against the wall.

Marco Roman

"Crazy. You're all crazy." Marco muttered, but reluctantly sank down against one of the counters. He started to bandage his wound, growing more and more impatient as they continued to stare at him.

The girl, the one who introduced herself as Andraya, was the weirdest of them all. She was nosy and demanding and he had been so tempted to pick her up and throw her outside. He would've too, if it wasn't for his arm and the caved in door.

Once his arm was wrapped in gauze, he slowly stood up and looked around the pharmacy. The gun was back in his hand, lax, but ready. Just in case.

The girl, Henri. He saw her eyes lock on it and she tensed, then glared at him. "Do you really need that?" she spat.

"Do you really want to know, little girl?" he mocked.

Her face flushed and she turned her nose up at him and disappeared down an aisle. He chuckled and continued to look around, feeling his stomach clench in hunger.

His feet trailed down to the front of the store, where he found a bunch of boxes. He shuffled through them fruitlessly. There was nothing but non-edible items in there. He kicked them away in frustration and went to find Andraya, who was just coming out of the ladies restroom.

"Hey, where's the food? Don't you guys have anything?"

She quirked a brow and slowly settled her hands on her hips. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean by those rude words."

Marco felt his hand clench and her eyes located the gun. "Do you really have to carry that around?" she said quietly, and he could tell she was wary of it.

He slowly slid it into his pocket. "Precaution. Can never be too safe."

She nodded.

He sighed and unconsciously rubbed his bandaged arm, then realized he had never thanked her. "Um.. thanks. For, y'know.. helping me."

She smiled, a bit too broadly. "No problem at allll."

His eyes narrowed again. "Look, you gotta any food? Or are you just gonna let me starve?"

Gale Wakeley

Those green eyes measured Gale as the gears behind his unimpressionable face turned, shifting trust and dubiety in his head like he was trying to figure out what flavor he preferred, or whether or not he should trust these strangers with his back story. Gale saw the impression of his tongue as it pressed against his lower lip, briefly flicking across it like a nervous lizard, before the decision was clear in his eyes and he shifted to leaning on his other arm.

"I live- lived- with my mum and my step-dad, and my little sister. I was at home by myself when we got separated." His cutting eyes dared anyone to make a remark, if a remark could be made. Next to him, Jet reluctantly said, "I have an older sister. A lot of people said we look alike, but she was always more, uh, open then I was. Am."

There was a pause of silence and Gale felt the indirect pressure for him to say something, for him to include his own family member that he cared for, that he hoped was alive. But Gale was twitchy about sharing the memory of his sister with them; it was a sentimental thing now, as it wouldn't have been a big deal before, it was something he felt he had to guard. But then again, it was no different for the others. They were wondering, just like him, where their own family was, if they were okay, if they were alive.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Gale flinched and raised his hands at the sudden howl of breaking wood erupting as the door splintered in the middle, just above where his feet rested. He jerked them closer to his chest and waveringly stood, leaning against the wall and snatching the bat next to him, eyeing the door. Vin was already gone into the back, and Jet grabbed a metal guitar stand, holding it out in front of him threateningly towards the door.

Thwap, crack. A large splinter snapped out of the door, jabbing the air menacingly towards Gale's former resting spot.

Thwap, crack. The splinter jerked forward, extending to almost the top of the door.

Thwap, crack. The office door crippled in on itself, yet still clung to its hinges, and the tip of something blunt and metal peeked out of the hole it made.

"Come out come out, Gale. I know you're in there, you son of a bitch!"

Oh, God. Not him.

Morgan had found them.

Jet

“Come out, come out Gale. I know you’re in there, you son of a bitch,” a voice snarls from behind the splintered door.
My green eyes dart to Gale’s shaking form, a question in my gaze. He looks at me and curses, and I know exactly who it is. I step even further from the door, pressing my back against the wall beside Gale.
“Hey, get this fucking door open, you idiot!” The voice roars, and someone starts pounding on the splintered wood. I see a foot break through the crack, and the door is nearly wrenched from its hinges.
“Shit … Jet, we have to go,” Gale whispers.
Still quite weak from lack of food, we turn and run up the stairs of the building, where Vin had disappeared to. Climbing the stairs is hard, and by the time we reach the top, both Dale and I are breathing hard. I managed to lose the guitar stand, and drop to the ground, rolling across the carpet to where our bags are.
“Jet, what are you doing?” Gale wheezes, walking over to me.
“Shhh!” I hiss, and then we hear the sound of the door caving in and fours sets of footsteps rushing into the music shop.
“They went up the stairs, Morgan,” A voice says eagerly.
I grab the bag and search through, finding the knife, and unsheathe it. I stand up and I’m about to charge down the stairs when a hand grabs my shirt collar and drags me to the back wall, and I’m thrown over the back of the couch. I hit the dusty, ash covered ground with a loud thud and try not to cough, covering my mouth with my hands. The knife is under the couch, just bedside my chest.
“Stay near the couch,” I hear Vin command. “If they come near it, swing like crazy.”
“What are you going to do?” Gale growls.
“What does it look like?” There is a silence. “Now, defend this couch with your life.”
I slowly raise myself onto my knees and peer over the back of the couch to find Vin standing against the wall beside the stairs, holding something that looks like a plank of wood in his hands, though I can’t make out much from the dust and ash clouding my vision. Gale stands by the couch, crouched down, the metal bat held tightly in his right hand.
I see the top of someone’s head as they bound up the stairs. I see a face all too familiar for my liking, lips twisted into a devilish grin. The dull eyes find Gale, and the smile stretches wider.
“Gale, we found you, good ol’ buddy o’ mi –”
Morgan doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Vin steps forward, clapping the plank of wood into the smug man’s face. Morgan falls down the stairs, blood splattered over his face. Vin jumps back into hiding as another guy comes up the stairs. Vin attacks him, this time smashing the plank into his chest.
Even from where I am I can hear the sound of a rib cracking and breaking. I wince as the guy howls in pain, falling to the floor. Another boy comes in, and seeing Vin, jumps up him. Vin is quick, and jumps back, but the plank of wood is wrenched from his grasp and swung wildly at him.
“You shit!” The last guy snarls, running at Gale.
I hold in a scream as Gale lifts his bat and cracks it across the guys head. I drop to the ground, holding my hands over my head, holding back a scream. Oh god, I’m being pathetic. If Kitty were here, she’d make me get up and fight. Or maybe not, considering how weak I am. She’d be doing all the fighting.
“Jet!” Gale calls.
I pop my head up from behind the couch again, afraid of what I’d see. Gale is standing over a crumpled body, staring down at his bat in horror. He looks at me, what he’d just done written all over his face.
“Don’t worry!” I say loudly, trying to smile. “I’m sure I’d have done the same thing.”
The way I’d said it makes Gale rolls his eyes, and he turns around to see Vin manage to fell the guy he’s fighting. He stops, fists raised, panting, and looks at us. I wave from where I’m kneeling, feeling utterly and completely stupid.
Here I am, cowering behind a couch like a girl, while these two men fought three men by themselves. No, wait, four? There are two bodies on the ground in this room, and probably two more down the stairs.
“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Vin says, taking on an authoritative tone.
I climb over the back of the couch and roll onto the ground. I land with an oof on the floor and grab my knife. I jump up and tuck it into my belt, before being dragged toward the stairs by Gale.
“I can walk you know!” I holler.
“We need to go, now,” he shoots back, urgency thick in his voice.
We race – well more like stumble on mine and Gale’s part – down the stairs and stop to stare at Morgan and the other guy lying on the floor, blood covering Morgan’s face. As we walk passed them, I spit at him, and get curious glances from Vin and Gale.
“What, he could have killed me,” I snap.
Vin raises an eyebrow, but Gale just shrugs and we start running. We jump over the crashed down door and head out into the sunshine. Vin leads us over to a footpath, and stops. Gale and I gather around him, and he points to the faint outline of a city.
“We’ll head that way,” Vin says. “There will be more shelter, and it’ll be safer.”
He sets off at a steady walk, Gale following. Somehow, in all the confusion, Gale had gotten the backpack. Or maybe Vin had and gave it to Gale. I shake my head to clear it, and start following.
With my green eyes glued on the city in the distance, I let one thought play through my mind, like a song. Soon I’m singing the words in my head, smiling, forgetting all about the last few minutes.
I hate cities. Oh yes I do. They smell like smoke and dead people and garbage. I hate cities. Oh yes I do. The only good is they are far away from my home. I hate cities.