#jblackwell

Why do people keep asking me these things? I would not know, and I don’t care.

She washed her hands, once, twice, three times. Disease was everywhere, and in times like this, whatever madness was happening, there was no such thing as too careful. She unloaded her gun, refilling the magazine, took it apart, oiled and cleaned it, and put it back together. She walked the perimeter of the house, checking every window and door, twice. 

The downstairs was secure, and she headed up. She’d been told there was another woman up there, and she moved carefully, hand on her gun. “Hello?” She asked, her voice not tentative, but commanding. “You up here?” She hadn’t got the girl’s name, and she moved up the stairs, carefully, listening out for any movement. 

She didn’t care that the third unknown had been taken in by these men. She didn’t trust them, and she didn’t trust this girl, but she had to assess her before she could start arranging to get to somewhere that could be used as a runway for the jet. She needed to get home.

Day 2:

Unknown 1: I don’t know anything about him. He’s dangerous, served in the Army, he’s fit, and strong, and good with an axe. Might get me access to transport, and should have some food. Seems to have a better idea of what’s going on than me, which isn’t saying much.

Unknown 2: Injured, bullet wound to the shoulder. Also physically fit. Quite possibly Army, too. Real chance of danger if the both of them decide to attack at the same time.