The Sunshine in My Veins (Peterick) ➳ Book 1

Five

"Who the fuck are you?"

Patrick shied away from the harsh tone that bit through the air.

"P-pa-Patrick," he finally stuttered out.

"Patrick," the man said. "Know a guy named Joe?"

Quickly, Patrick nodded.

"Come with me."

"But what about—?"

"Megan went to get them."

"Who's Megan?"

"Stop asking so many questions."

"Okay," Patrick whispered, slowly sinking into his shy persona. He peeled himself from the ground and looked up at the man before him. Like Andy, the man had an array of tattoos: big ones, little ones, coloured ones, black ones. Patrick wondered if they all had meaning. Not that it mattered, of course. These tattoos were painted out over a tan canvas, a colour Patrick couldn't picture on anyone but the man before him. His eyes were brown, staring angrily down at Patrick. His hair was short and black.

"Let's go. We can't afford to be separated."

Timidly, Patrick followed. He didn't know who this man was, but if he knew Joe . . . that was enough for Patrick.

When he was younger, Patrick's parents were convinced he had some sort of attachment issue. Once he made friends with someone—a task proven very difficult because of how attached he was to his parents—it was impossible to separate them. It had been hoped that Patrick would grow out of it, but seeing how Patrick's face lit up when he saw Joe it was apparent he hadn't changed at all.

"You made it!" Joe cheered as he pulled Patrick into a hug.

Patrick nodded silently and took in a deep breath of Joe's scent.

The broke from their embrace and looked around at the large group of people who had settled themselves around the clearing again.

Joe introduced his companions: Megan, Bronx, and the tattoo covered Pete. Patrick rambled off Brendon, Ryan, and Andy's names at top speed as to deter the attention from himself. Everyone got along nicely and in no time "goodnights" were being exchanged until Pete and Patrick were the only ones awake.

The two were silent for a few hour; their minds were miles from where they were seated. Eventually, Pete spoke up, "Where you from?"

Patrick's wide eyes met Pete's in the moonlight. "Here and there. Never really had a home. Just places we lived for minimal amounts of time. You?"

"Chicago."

"Wow. Must've been nice."

Despite popular belief it wasn't. Pete had been the oldest of three, his parents always struggling to make ends meet. He got a job when he was fourteen and was kindly asked to leave home the morning of his eighteenth birthday.

"Yeah," Pete replied, not having it in his heart to kill the glowing light in Patrick's eyes. It reminded him of Bronx . . . and Ashlee.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'm gonna wake Megan and Brandon—"

"Brendon."

"Huh?"

"His name's Brendon. And he'll kill you if you get it wrong."

"Got it. Anyway, unless you've got the stamina of an ox, I suggest you get some rest."

Patrick nodded and laid down though he made no attempt to get comfortable. Instead he watched as Pete shook Megan awake and gently placed a kiss on her lips. After waking Brendon, he curled up next to Bronx with his hand gripping the back of the young boy's shirt. His chest rose and fell evenly becoming deeper as he slipped into sleep.

*

"C'mon, Ry!" Brendon cheered as the group marched on.

So far they had been doing well with travel. No run-ins with the Arkkarredians or the weather. The atmosphere was joyous and light hearted, something many of them had not felt in ages. Perhaps it was the size of the group. Or perhaps it was the promise of another town: houses, beds, cars, food. With a car they'd be in Chicago in no time.

"I'm right here, Bren. What do you want?"

The smile had just formed on Brendon's face when a blast of red hit him from behind. His body toppled forward, motionless.

The reaction time was milliseconds. Weapons were raised and a circle was formed around the body and Bronx. Four figures emerged from the morning fog. Their faces were hidden behind masks, so it was unclear what they were. Their movements were almost robotic. Patrick's mind was reeling.

Ryan fired the first returning shot. He showed no mercy on the attacking party, letting bolts of blue fly. Megan's gun joined Ryan's and the two skillfully took out all the attackers in seconds.

Time dragged on in a single second. Everyone remained frozen in that moment until Ryan dropped to his knees and let out a chocked sob over Brendon's body.

Joe knelt down next to him. Pete kept his gun raised as if he was expecting another ambush. Megan stepped forward to observe the attackers. Patrick saw it seconds before she did.

"Megan!"

It was too late.

One of the figures rose to its feet and took Megan down with a perfectly aimed blow. He body crumpled to the ground just as Patrick's weapon lodge itself in the black haired covered head of her killer.

Three bodies lay on the ground. Nine stood in two rows on either side of the street. The attackers weren't human. They weren't Arkkarredians either.

"Who are you?" Pete asked.

The one with bright red hair responded. "We are the Killjoys, sent by Blurryface to find the one they call Patrick."

"What do you want with him?" Joe inquired.

"His mind. Now, give him to us, and you shall be spared."

"We don't know where he is."

The Killjoy with the red leather jacket raised his gun and fired twice. Andy was down and so was Ryan, the latter having heroically jumped in front of Joe seconds before. The curly haired one took down Joe with ease.

"How about now?"

Patrick was stunned. There could be a hundred different men named Patrick. Any of those could be the one they were looking for. Was it him?

"We don't know who you're looking for so why don't you take us back to your headquarters and let those bastards deal with us?" Pete snapped.

"I believe you do."

A final blast of red illuminated the area as it found its target.