Cold Bitter Air (pt.2 of 5)

Part Two

He constantly turns around to see if the girl is still following him. She seems lost in her own world as they make their way across the dark barren streets. He stops in front of a store, shocked at the reflection the mirror-like window is showing back. His face is dirty, probably from when he fell on his run over to the girl. His sweat has mixed with the dirt and smeared it over his face. His light blonde hair is still clean, surprisingly, except for the very tips that are blackened from the soot of the last fire before everything fell apart in the city hall. His button up shirt is torn in so many places it barely offers any concealment at all and he can see the gashes on his upper body from the people he had to get away from to get to the girl. He’s a complete mess.

Unaware that the girl is staring at him, he unbuttons the last two buttons left on his shirt and takes the dirty rags off, throwing them to the side. He touches the gashes gently, feeling their fiery sting before sighing and looking down at the ground. He needs medical help. He turns around and stares at the girl, suddenly conscious of the fact that he’s half naked. He sighs again. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like she is going to be any help. She may be beautiful, actually, the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, but she’s no use to him unless she can fight or has a medical history that’ll stop his pain.

“Let’s keep going,” he whispers sullenly, waving his arm forward, “I know a place where we can hide.” He starts walking, crushing broken glass with every step. The girl stares after him, her face worried.

“Are there still more?” she asks. The boy stops and turns around to face her. His bottom lip quivers. He wants to cry, but he knows he won’t. He has to keep strong for her because otherwise, they won’t make it out of the town alive. And if he lost her, he wouldn’t know what to do; he’s developed feelings for her.

“Just come,” he whispers.

They walk together, neither saying a word nor stopping. There might be someone listening. The air is still cold, freezing on their skin and stopping their blood. The girl shivers slightly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She looks at the boy as he stares at her and brings her arms down. He’s not even wearing a shirt. She turns away from him in embarrassment before speaking.

“How much longer before we’re there?” she asks. He looks at her for a few seconds, scrutinizing her it seems. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, “And we’re almost there. Actually, it’s that house right there.” He points at a two story house in the middle of the vacant street with broken windows and major signs of neglect on the outer walls. He looks back at the girl, noticing her horrified expression. Of course, she was the mayor’s daughter, she was used to luxury. Well, she just has to bear with it. “The outside may look like that, but the inside is a lot better,” he adds, watching her cheeks blush. She didn’t mean to insult the hiding place. He turns on his foot and walks to the house, hoping to God that the girl will, for her own safety, follow him into the house.

He walks up the front steps, pushing the door in slightly and peering through the slant into the house. It’s exactly how he left it. He finishes opening the door and steps in, not bothering to turn around and check if the girl followed him. She makes enough noise as she walks up the stairs and directly on the broken glass. That’s what it’s there for; to warn if someone’s coming. But only she would be slow enough not to know that she doesn’t step on the glass. Well, at least he knows it works.

The first room they enter is a living room; the couch is torn up with long gashes down its cushions will stuffing trailing down from it. The floor used to be a carpet, a plush carpet, but now it’s been plastered down and stained with blood and who knows what else. The pictures that used to hang on the wall are now blank, the glass crushed repeatedly. It’s exactly how he left it. If people think someone already raided this house, then they won’t come to see if there’s anything left; they’ll think everything’s already gone and not bother looking upstairs.

He leads the girl upstairs, guiding her by moving her whenever she might just step on a step that he purposefully manipulated to fall in. If she stays, he’ll have to tell her every trick he pulled on the house for their safety. She takes a wrong step and falls in. the boy immediately grabs her from around the waist and pulls her out, placing his hand over her mouth so her breathing isn’t so loud. He listens, waiting for any sign that anyone heard. When all returns silent, he looks at the girl and they hurry to the second floor.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as he pushes her to a room. He only nods and continues to guide her, stopping at a door that looks far worse than any other door in the hallway. This part of the upstairs also looks bad with torn furniture and giant holes in the walls. The door they stand before is black because he burned the outer layer and the door knob is jiggling because he loosened the screws. There are stains of yellow on the door that he made out of honey and sap from a tree to make it look as if someone already marked the room as empty. That’s what the people have been doing; he was just smart enough to copy it. He pushes the blackened door in, gesturing for the girl to go in first. She steps in and as the boy closes the door behind them, he hears the sound of men laughing and shouting in the street.

The girl grabs his hand and pulls him to the window, pointing out at the street. The men are standing in a circle, laughing and being men. There are six of them, all big and gruff. And one stands in the middle, holding up a picture of the girl; the last of the mayor’s family. He brings out a lighter, its silver coating reflecting the little light from the street lamps, and lights the picture on fire. They’re coming for her next.

A/N: So, tell me what you think and the next part will be out in a couple of days, (most likely).