Worth Fighting For: Prologue

Prologue

The wind blew past my face like a slap of ice. I could barely open my eyes, still trying to force myself to keep going. I opened my eyes wide enough to actually see, just in time to evade a minivan two feet ahead of me. I blew out a big breath, making my chest wheeze. I could feel my nose turning red and running, so I rubbed it with the edge of my sleeve. I’m not sure if I stopped it from running for the moment because it was so numb I couldn’t tell.

I turned around with the flashlight to make sure a Roamer wasn’t following us. I was so paranoid I couldn’t tell my own footsteps from theirs. I can barely see in the dark, especially while a snow storm was on full blast, so I relied on my sense of smell. I swear I could smell one of those things from a mile away. Nothing was out of the ordinary – even though every single thing about this week is anything but ordinary -, so I turned back around and looked down at Falon. I had to make sure I didn’t let her out of my sight. There was no way I’d survive without her; although she needed me way more than I needed her. Just then she looked over at me, nose red and eyes watery.

“Kaylie, how much more do we have to walk?” she cried. I squinted at her through the snow.

“A few more blocks.” I said. As I talked, dirty snow got in my mouth, but I didn’t dare open it again to spit it out. I knew if Ron was here he would definitely say something funny to make me feel stupid about swallowing snow. I wish I knew where he was; I missed him. I missed Mom and Jason. I missed Yana too, but not her annoying little dog. He peed on my couch at least five times, so I could care less if he ended up dead or otherwise.

We’d been walking for hours. My feet were sore and my legs ached. My fingers were well past frost-bitten, even though I had on the thickest pair of snow gloves I could find. I knew Falon was tired because she’s carried her heavy bags on her back the whole trip. I told her she should alternate hand carrying them for awhile, but she’s so stubborn. I could tell that her only focus right then was making it to Grandma’s house… alive. I don’t blame her.

Just when I was about to say something to her again about her bag, I smelled that God-awful rotten garbage smell. It had to be one of two things: damp, snow-covered rotten trash, or a Roamer. It couldn’t be number one, because I know grandma’s trash man always comes on Wednesdays. I stopped cold in my snow tracks. I grabbed Falon by the arm and held her close. She shrieks.

“Shhh! I smell something.” I covered her mouth lightly, careful not to give her a new snow beard. I moved the flashlight frantically all around us, trying to figure out where the smell was coming from. I couldn’t see anything but snow and tipped over trashcans.

“Maybe it’s just an old trashcan.” I whispered. I eased my grip on the flashlight, stopping the violent shaking my nerves were causing it. I let go of Falon finally, and she grabbed my hand tight. She barely understood what was going on, and I knew she was terrified. I squeezed her little hand to comfort her.

“We’re almost there, Falon.” I said to her.

“Okay.” She said in a small whimper.

I could see Grandma’s house in the distance; all the way up the hill. This was the homestretch. Finally we would be safe, Grandma would give us food and warm us up, and we would be safe. We would have nice big quilt blankets and hot cocoa with mini marshmallows for days. I remember when I was about Falon’s age; the only child then. Grandma and I used to make gingerbread men in the kitchen. I loved to bake with her; she was the best at it. We always used to bite off their heads first, and make them walk around like headless little gingerbread-zombie things. It would be so funny to me, and I don’t even know why. After we’d had fun being gingerbread man killers, she would take me by the fireplace and sing to me these little songs in German or something while I drunk hot cocoa. I never understood what they meant, but they sounded nice. That big fireplace was the thing I looked forward to the most. It was something about it that made Grandma’s house feel so snug; so complete.

I got so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t realize anything else around me. I didn’t notice the horrid smell grow stronger. Falon clenched my hand so tight I could feel it going numb. She started screaming, and I jumped out of my trance.

“Kaylie! Kaylie, help me!” My heart skipped a beat as I felt her hand slip out of mine in an instant. I eagerly turned the flashlight in her direction, and I saw her backpack being ripped apart by a hungry Roamer.

“Falon!” I ran after her in the nearly knee-deep snow. I tried to grab her hand, but our gloves were too slippery. I grabbed her arm and tried to pull her into me, but the Roamer was putting up a mean fight of Tug-a-War. I yanked and yanked at her arm, trying to free her more than hurt her, but it was no use. The Roamer had a grip on her backpack with both her arms in the loops. It grabbed her long ponytail, jerking her head backwards until I could see the throat bones in her neck. Tears strolled down her ruby red cheeks as she screamed in utter terror.

“This can’t be happening. I can’t lose my little sister. She needs me.” I kept thinking.

I let go of her arm for a few seconds, and ran around to the Roamer. It was a woman; probably in her mid 60’s. She had long brown hair, and glasses that were cracked and crooked. Her face had hints of heavy blush makeup, which made her somewhat more bearable to look at. She was wearing a battered pink long sleeve blouse with a small, cut out heart at the neck, and black sweatpants. She had on dirty damp slippers with socks to match. She was silent in her efforts to kill my sister. I grabbed her bone-like arm, and slimy skin fell from it, some clinging to my glove. I almost vomited at the sight. She didn’t budge, and I started to panic. Then I heard Falon’s incredulous scream, and my heart sank. The woman bit her. She continued to bite her and tear her skin, and Falon continued to scream. I couldn’t take it. I panicked, and didn’t know what else to do. I shut my eyes tight. My sister is another Roamer’s meal, and I might as well be next. I cried through the cold, squeezing my eyes until the lids felt like they would tear, then I heard a loud pop and two thuds in the snow. It was silent.

I shook, frightened for what would happen next. After I heard nothing for a few seconds, I peeled open my eyes and saw the Roamer and Falon lying on the ground; both lifeless. I raced over to Falon, pushing the Roamer off her. The side of her face was gushing dark red blood, and she was completely pale, almost as white as the snow. I grabbed her head gently and lifted it up, looking into her face. I cried my eyes out as soon as I touched her soft little forehead. My little sister was dead. I couldn’t save her. I had nothing left. I cried for what felt like 5 minutes until I felt a large cold hand on my shoulder. I jumped back, accidently dropping Falon’s head on the concrete ground.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.” The person held their hands out as if surrendering. In one of their hands was a pistol. I couldn’t see their face, only a dark silhouette in the pitch black night. My heart jumped, afraid of who might be behind that voice. It sounded deep; it had to be a man. But it sounded young; he couldn’t be much older than me. I sighed a breath of relief though, for I hadn’t heard another person’s voice – or actually seen another living person besides Falon - in about 5 hours. It was somewhat comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one left to deal with this chaos. I looked back and realized I was backed against the Roamer’s lifeless body. I jumped up and nearly knocked over the man standing next to me. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

“Are you okay?” He said. I looked up at him; I still couldn’t make out is face clearly, but he was tall. I looked down at Falon, then the Roamer, and back to him.

“No, I’m not okay. My grandmother just killed my little sister.”