it had been at LEAST an hour since the fighting began and hunter was growing as tired of the bickering as she was perplexed. the small group of raiders had set up their camp too close to her cabin for comfort and, upon discovery of them, she had doubled back–setting misleading tracks from her true destination in case any one of them were worth a damn at hunting ( be it game or prey ). after reaching the cabin, she’d stowed away her pack and set back out, fully intending on picking the members of the group off one by one.
lying in the brush, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, hunter was surprised at how quickly the situation had DETERIORATED. while divvying up their spoils, the group seemed amiable. they were calm and collected in a way that–if they hadn’t mentioned the deadly source of their supplies when she’d first come across them–hunter might’ve mistaken them for regular folk. regular folk just trying to get by.
the conversation didn’t SOUR until two of the men were caught in a lie regarding their whereabouts during the raid. an older woman with deep red curls kicked over her pack and said ‘i’m sorry steve, i’m sick of covering for this shit.’ and stormed off–rifle on her back and hands shoved deep into her coat pockets. the two other raiders, obscured from hunter’s vantage point followed, with varied tones of mumbling.
it was only ‘steve,’ his boyfriend, and his lover that remained. so caught up in their own problems, the bickering love triangle did not take note of the survivor who seemed, from hunter’s view, as shocked as anyone at what they’d stumbled upon. cursing under her breath at the prospect of losing the element of surprise, hunter rose slightly from her hiding spot and caught the survivor’s gaze, shaking her head stiffly as if to tell them to leave. it seemed, in her efforts to remain SILENT, the raiders had caught notice of the unintended intruder and now four heads were turned towards them, gazes trained HARD on them. hunter held up two hands; palm open on one, finger raised on the other. there were SIX.
Think before you act, Marnie. It was something had been said to her enough times that the sentence had become meaningless. But it wasn’t that her mind fell deaf to its definition, it was that the instruction had been so ineffectual it became instinct to disobey. Think before you act, they said, as if action and thought were mutually exclusive. Marnie disagreed. In fact, she found that her mind moved fastest when her body moved with it, ideas surging with the steps of her feet.
Her head had been humming a song from the old days, some remnant of a pre-bullshit world. They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me. Marnie glanced at the woman at her side. They could care less as long as someone’ll bleed. Six, her fingers said. So darken your clothes. Six people. Four raiders. One rando. One ardent teenager with two hands gripped tightly around a heavy wooden nail bat, feet poised for the lunge. Or strike a violent pose.
Maybe they’ll leave you alone—
A low grunt escaping through grit teeth, Marnie charged at the nearest raider — Steve? — swinging her bat HARD into his kneecaps, grabbing the pistol from his belt as he crumpled in pain. Had she ever held a gun before? No, but Marnie supposed she played enough Call of Duty to know how to use one. With two swift pulls of the trigger, the pistol fired twice onto Steve’s thigh, until Marnie leveled the barrel of of the gun to the red-haired woman attempting to pull a rifle from her back.
— but not me.
For a split second, eyes glanced at the fallen raider groaning in pain. Blood leaked out of the bullet holes, an ugly, vibrant shade of red. Marnie’s face contorted in disgust. “Yikes. Sorry, dude,” she said, though she only half meant it. Kinda served him right for cheating on his boyfriend ( no, Marnie WASN’T eavesdropping ! ). Eyes fell back on the woman with the rifle, and without tearing her gaze away, she called at the survivor behind her. ❝ Yo, lady? ❞ she cried. ❝ You gonna do something or what? ❞
