Dystopia Rising

Chapter 1: Caravan Ride

"Well, here we are, Rookie. Doin' the dirty work," Eight-ball sighs as we trample ahead through the brush and grass. "Guess that's why they hired us, right? Run ahead while the rest just sit cozy and safe back at the caravan. Not that I'm bitter or anything. No, not me."

"No, of course not," I reply with a grin. It's amusing the way his southern accent comes out more when he's irritated, although I'm sure I sound the same way when I get angry. His blue eyes snap to me before he scoffs.

"Quit smilin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You know what," He replies, and for a second my smile falters, and I mentally question whether he's talking about my teeth, every tooth sharpened to fine points. It wouldn't be the first time I was told it looked unsettling. I shake my head.

No, no, that's not it. He's told me before that's not it.

Still, I push the subject ahead. "You know they make you do this because you're a Natural One. Going off the land is your strong point."

"And what's your strong point, Remnant?"

"'M pretty good at messin' with you."

"Yeah, you just love messin' with me, don't you-" He cuts himself off when a branch breaks nearby, and his hand shoots out to grab my wrist and stop me from moving. "Wait... did you hear that?"

I tense, waiting for another noise, but we're met with nothing but silence. I look at Eight-ball curiously, and he lets out a breath and a nod for us to continue going.

"Man," He sighs. "You know, there was one time I could have sworn that I had heard a rad-bear. Now, it turned out... that it was a bunch of turkeys, and they chased me all the way back to the others."

I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and he looks at me unamused. "Sorry, sorry."

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the small smile on his face. "You can never trust nature. It's out to get ya."

I hum. Can't argue with that one. As we keep going, his statement hits even more close to home as dead moans reach my ears on the open air. Eight-ball tenses, again reaching back to grab my wrist, a way to signal to me to not make a sound.

"That doesn't sound like turkeys this time." He inhales sharply in preparation. "Better go check it out. Quiet now. And load up." He lets go of my wrist to grab his gun and cock it. I do the same. He looks back at me, notices my eyes on him as I wait for instructions, and grins. "Right this way. Keep it quiet. We want to get a look at 'em before they get a look at us."

I nod enthusiastically, continuing forward and following the noise. I look around, trying to see how far these zoms are from the main road and if we'll need to lead them away so they won't hear the approaching caravan. I breathe in and nearly gag at the smell of something horrid. It smells like bad body odor and rotten eggs, which is a lot different from how zoms typically smell.

I mean, they smell bad because they're dead, but not like this.

Eight-ball notices it too, judging by the way his face is scrunched up. "Man, it sounds like zoms, but whew, what is that? Damn. Smells worse than Mia's feet in the morning. I ain't smelt anything like that before and I have straight-up been in zom-infested waters."

I look at him in interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, I..." He trails off when he glances over at me, eyes wide in awe as I wait for him to continue. He clears his throat and looks away. "But uh, that is a story for another time, a-and it was all Bridge's fault, by the way. Come on."