Dystopia Rising

Chapter 3: Rider Rage

Our steps are quiet as Eight-ball and I walk ahead of the caravan. It's similar to how it was a few days ago, with the both of us just moving along, me watching Eight as he moves almost too fluidly around any bumps in the road.

"I think I could get used to havin' you as company, Princess," Eight-ball states, and I tsk. He still hasn't dropped that stupid nickname. "Just you, me, the open road. Caravan at our backs; zombies, Raiders, who knows what ahead. Life of a mercenary, aye?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I respond. "Especially with me accompanying you. For your sake more than mine. You'd probably get bored without me."

"I've found plenty of ways to keep myself entertained when I'm alone."

"None of them were as great as me though."

He huffs a laugh, looking both amused and slightly bewildered. "I'd agree if I didn't think it would skyrocket your ego."

I make a sad face. "What's wrong with stroking my ego every once in a while? I'm pretty sure I've stroked yours every day since we've met."

He cocks a brow. "Oh, really? How?"

I pause and look at him, wondering if this is one of those rhetorical questions, and he just wants me to answer for flirting's sake. His expectant look doesn't fade, and I scoff at him.

"No. There's no way you don't... there's no way you don't know."

"Don't know what?" He asks the question so genuinely I choke. He must be toying with me, right? I've been so obvious! The only way I could be any more obvious would be just blurting it out, and oddly enough, that makes my face heat up.

I can shamelessly flirt, but actually admitting it-admitting feelings. Oh, that's a whole different ballgame.

"Don't know what, Princess?" Eight-ball asks again, and-oh, he's stopped walking now and has ahold of my arm. When did he get so close?

I try to swallow but my mouth suddenly feels dry. Eight looks at me expectantly, lips twitching into a smirk because even if he doesn't know-which he has to know! He's not stupid-he knows he's got me in a tight spot and now I'm flustered.

"I... I-I um-"

"Hey, wait up!"

We both snap our gazes down the road, just barely spotting a figure coming towards us. Eight-ball's blue eyes are ice cold as he glares at the approaching figure. His face changes in realization and he groans.

"Oh, shit," He murmurs, then takes a small step away from me, allowing me to feel like I can actually breathe because holy shit... "Look. It's Riptire."

The large man makes it towards us, lips pulling back to reveal rows of straight teeth besides one chipped tooth near the back. The Diesel Jock still has oil stains on his fingers, long dried with an even longer wait time of finally leaving his skin.

"Glad I caught you," He says, his voice deep and raspy around the edges. "Bridge asked me to come. Said you might need some backup."

Eight deadpans at him. "Yeah, well, me and the princess can handle ourselves. It's just a little scouting."

"Oh, I know that, sweetheart, but with the whole zom-attractant thing-well, Bridge is a bit on edge."

"Great. She planning on havin' someone babysitting me every time I go out?"

Riptire shrugs. "Sure looks like it."

His jaw clenches. "Well, remind me to keep an eye out for you later when I'm takin' a wizz."