Tough Luck, High Hopes (ON HIATUS)

Gracie

Charlie came back down after about three seconds and traded her bow for a long blade. Before that, I'd never seen a machete. Jake just smiled, while Sean looked wary.
"Be careful," Jake said. Charlie grinned and patted her weapon. Without another word, she grabbed the silver rail leading up to the roof.
Sean opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted. "Why does Charlie act like she hates everything?"
Jake frowned. "She, uh..." He paused and thought. "Has people issues."
"But why?"
He sighed and looked at me. His expression was overly exasperated. It almost made me laugh. "Because of her father." His face went from 'really?' To 'goddamn, I'm sad.' "My brother."
"But why?" I sounded so whiny.
"Her father... Became infected with the spores. Charlie... Had to kill him herself."
Like Sean, I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted. This time, not by someone speaking to me, but a scream from up above. It wasn't a scream of fear, but a scream of anger.
I hurried over to the cream colored latch. I shoved it open, then rushed back to Charlie's backpack. I opened it and pulled out the first weapon I could find, which just so happened to be a handgun of some kind.
I jumped through the latch and aimed the gun. At what, I didn't know until I looked. A so-called Screecher was on top of Charlie, straining to bite her neck. She was fending it off fine, but she wouldn't last long.
I'd never used a handgun, but I used to hunt with my dad. Before the apocalypse. I suppose the trigger mechanics were close to that of a shotgun.
I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Charlie's grunt could be heard from here. She heaved the thing off her chest and laid there. Her chest's rise and fall was so big, I could see it. She sat up and stared at me.
"You just saved my life," she said.