DYSTOPIA [hs] |Complete|

xiv - Sweats-A-Lot.

chapter song; bury your heart - flyleaf

a/n; an early update because i'm not well and i hope you all are (:
it's hard to find a gif of Lark when all that comes up is Abraham Lincoln smh

     We've driven for approximately an hour, hoping to escape the wandering chaos that would occur back in the forest and cabin. For the first twenty minutes we set off into our journey the flames were visible and bright, full of life, and taking away life. We drove up a mountain and onto the main road; if we looked back the orange flares could still be seen. It terrifies me what we have killed and sacrificed in order to save our own skins.

     Although, I am hoping that the fire attracted the attention of the walkers and brought them to it. Savannah assumed that the fire won't be enough to kill them, only if they stood in the midst of the flames and melted until they were only bones and mild flesh. The thought disgusted me, but she was right.

     "I haven't listened to music in so long, damn," Lark tutted, resting left right elbow on the edge of the car's window and steering the wheel with his right. I hummed in agreement, looking to my right and out the fogged window. Lark had told us there would be some motel about another thirty-five miles down the road, and suggested we take a stop there to ransack the place of any valuables. Harry grunted in answer, the rest of us just nodded.

     Ash and Savannah were surprisingly being sensible, although every time Lark swerves the car to the left Savannah slides on her seat and eventually elbows me in the face or stomach every time. I've lost count to how many times she's done that, and how many times she's apologised.

     Boredom struck me hard, seeing as there's nothing to do but sleep I've kept myself occupied by tracing my index finger on the condensed glass. It felt cold against my skin, but it didn't bother me. My finger began to swirl in odd intricate patterns, trailing its way in many directions until I reached the edge of the glass. I suck at drawing, bad. Art has never been my thing, creativity was never my thing. I'm more of the 'if you give me instructions and show me how to do it I can do it', otherwise I'm pretty hopeless.

     "How about we spice things up a little?" Lark exclaimed.

     Harry groaned and exaggerated his head turn. "What?"

     "Let's sing some songs yeah? We can make our own music! All right, all right, we've all seen a shitload of movies where they sing in the car, so why don't we try it? Entertain ourselves a little?"

     Ash only laughed at his friend. "Yes, but then arguments occur and somebody always dies."

     "Ash!" Savannah scolded while I cringed. I'm not very fond of hypothetical deaths. It's like deliberately jinxing yourself and others.

     "Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. Take one down..." Lark sang softly to himself. I watched as Harry's shoulders tensed and his fists clenched together. Lark looked to his right, quickly glancing at Harry before continuing. "Ninety-eight bottles of—"

     "Finish that, and I swear I will hit you," Harry snapped.

     Lark only raised both his arms then quickly slapped them back on the steering wheel once the car began to slightly swerve to the left. I nodded to myself, turning back to my re-fogged window and beginning a new shitty portrait.

     Sun in the left corner, three squiggly clouds, birds in shape of the letter 'm', and a simple house with a chimney on the top right corner of the roof. Of course a fourth grader could probably draw better than me, but we weren't in an art competition now. We're in the middle of an apocalypse, fighting for our lives.