Flashback - Day Two - "This is my Boomstick..."
Who: Loren & Tony When: Day Two Where: The Ruins of Detroit
Loren threw all of his weight downward against the pavement, the pain in his left arm unimportant as he thrashed and fought against the iron-like grip around his wrist. Teeth clenched and eyes wide, he hissed and fought, his tiny frame like the beating wings of a butterfly against the foot of a giant. The man holding his wrist was huge, massively deformed and though he still retained some of his human mind, he was definitely a far cry from being normal. Long tusks stretched out from under his hips, twisted and cracked as they headed back upward into the sky. The hulking figure continued to move, dragging what was his behind him as though there had been no need to ask for permission.
"You great prat!" Loren managed, his insult hampered by his hesitance to speak at all. He'd just witnessed possibly the most disgusting slaughter he could have ever witnessed, the group he'd been with until now smeared along the floor like they had been nothing more than insect guts. His throat and head were sore after the explosion of sound that had ripped out of him, and as he struggled he coughed, the simple phrase he'd let out bringing up blood with it. He could hardly think straight right now, could hardly see what was happening. Being dragged, twisting and fighting, shocked and half-crying, Loren was a mess - and at best, completely helpless.
The thing dragging him off grunted from the depths of his chest, turning to look down at the woman it thought it was dragging. It smelled like a woman, sounded like a woman, looked like a woman. There was no more confirmation needed. The creature was acting only on instinct, not willing to listen to reason. "Quiet," he said, and yanked the smaller man hard to continue dragging him.
Loren wished badly that he could trust his voice long enough to call for help, to scream... to do anything. As it was, he was stuck here, and it wasn't looking good.
Anthony George Reid had decided fairly early on in all this mess that he must have been a very naughty boy when he was little - or maybe he'd done something particularly evil just last month - and as a result, he'd been transported to Hell early and it looked remarkably like Detroit.
The long tale of how he'd reached this part of town with his small, Samsonite suitcase - containing his worldly goods - strapped now to his back, a shotgun in his right hand and a revolver tucked in a shoulder holster would have to wait for another time. He still had his plane ticket for Switzerland, but he wouldn't be using it now - or ever, from the looks of things. He had to improvise, but that was fine. He was good at improvisation. He had ammo for each weapon in a different front pocket of his jeans and his small, zippered lock-picking kit in one of the back pockets, for easy access.
Day Two in Hell. Mad Max, you can kiss my arse -
He was currently standing near what appeared to be an abandoned office building, in what was obviously the wrong end of town, because he'd heard a scream. A Human scream, he thought, and if anyone else had survived this nightmare, maybe they wouldn't be around for much longer if he didn't make some sort of effort.
Trying not to think of the woman he hadn't reached in time, despite his best efforts, the day before, Tony pressed himself against the wall and inched closer to the corner. He distinctly heard the word 'prat', which made him smile, and then the word 'quiet' from the... thing, which made him frown. It was still capable of speech. Maybe it was still capable of reasoning. He couldn't tell if the intended victim was male or female and frankly, didn't give a shit. They were still Human and alive and that was all that mattered.
He sighed. He wasn't a hero. Never had been and never would be, but though he lacked experience with the role, he could hardly not apply his skills to at least trying to save someone.
The monster continued to drag Loren behind him, the hulking form headed into the nearby building. Loren knew he was done-for if they made it inside. Escaping now was probably the last chance he'd have... not that there was a lot for him to do. He reached out blindly to try and catch something - anything - that might help him. Loren's fingers scraped across what felt like glass, hissing as it sliced his fingertips. He grabbed for it though, twisting to turn and lunge for the beast that had been dragging him. The glass sank into flesh and a howl of pain erupted from the monster. The large hand on Loren's wrist released, and it was all he needed to try and make a break for it. Not particularly interested in sticking around for a written invitation, Loren clambered to his feet and began to head back out the door.
"NO!" came the voice of the monster behind him, and before Loren could so much as gain a few feet, he found himself falling back downward into the pavement. His hands shot out to catch himself, scraped as he landed. The monster had lashed out in an effort to stop him, and it had worked for the time being.
They were headed inside the building and though he wasn't a military type, even Tony knew that would put him at a disadvantage. He pumped to load, took a deep breath, and rounded the side of the building, gun raised - and the monster was yelling and grabbing at the person, who had made a break for it. It hadn't worked, but the Human was on the ground, so Tony shouted, as confidently as he could, "Stay down!" and fired.
The blessing with a shotgun was that as long as you pointed at your target, it was difficult to miss it. The creature was hit and it howled like a demon. Tony started to run toward the person and pumped another round into the chamber as he went.
"Get up! C'mon!" He reached the Human, grabbed some fabric and heaved up. "Move!" There was blood. He tried to ignore it.
Loren stayed down as the voice directed, eyes and mouth wide open. He thought for a moment that he might shit himself, given the circumstances, and stared in shock as someone entirely new arrived to save him. The monster was gnashing its teeth and throwing its arms around, bleeding and trying to stop the flow. Loren had seen just about enough blood for a lifetime, and as he was commanded to get up, he did his best. His hands stung and he cried out, using them to vault to his feet to run. A light dribble of blood ran down his chin, staining his lips and he took off, his sneakers beating hard against the pavement as he bee-lined for the door. All he could think of was escape, finding someplace safe, hiding and crying and waiting until the next terrifying thing happened to him.
This place was god-awful. He'd told his mother they should never have come to Detroit, and now... Well, he'd been right in the end. They should have stayed home, where they were safe. Where they might still be safe.
The kid moved. Tony had decided he - she? - was young because of their size, but who knew? Who cared? They were on their feet and running and that was all that mattered at the moment. He held onto the shirt a little longer, then turned and ran backward a few steps to see if there would be any pursuit. Nothing yet but more howling, but who knew what that noise might attract? He faced front again and asked, "You know the city at all?"
His voice was ragged from the running and the yelling. God, when would the madness stop?
"What!" Loren half-shouted, half-gasped to the other man, eyes wild with fear. He didn't have anything to offer that would be helpful, aside from 'hospital an 'alf-mile back or so', and he had a feeling that would be most useless. He shook his head instead of trying to speak again, the blood still coming up in small dribbles from his throat. It hurt so bad to talk, and panting while running was not helping his case any. "Dunno!" he finally offered, throwing a hand up in a motion of defeat. "Find someplace!"
"Bloody fucking hell," Tony managed, then said, "Take a right at the next building." It would lead to one of the main streets and, at the very least, give them lots of options when it came to choosing a direction. He didn't know if they were running toward the hospital or not, but then, he was a stranger here, himself.
Taking another look at the other person, he said, "You're hurt. How bad? And I know you're probably... not a doctor - Right here! - but tell me what you can..." And he headed right, dodging parked and smashed vehicles, still running, full tilt.
Loren didn't have anything to say to the directions, and for the moment was glad that someone was taking charge. They'd had a leader for the day that the other group had been together, and he'd been good at what he did for them while he was still around... Loren didn't want to think about it and did his best to push it as far from his mind as he could.
"I-" He coughed, swallowing hard against the coppery taste in his mouth, "-cut up 'ands an' throat... I got... scraped... I dunno, Christ! We gotta find a place to 'ide!" He simply wasn't with it enough to offer anything better.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said in return, working on that 'voice of authority' thing that could come in so handy from time to time. Of course, he wasn't usually running for his life when he used it, let alone running for his life with some kid who was bleeding -
It had registered that the boy - he'd decided on 'male' - was British and not just using slang terms because he knew them. It was interesting that two Brits should encounter one another like this...
"We're going to be fine, yeah? We'll just get... a few streets over..." A quick scan and he decided to make a short cut. "Right. This way..." He veered left, hoping the boy would follow. Tony ran across the concrete to a door and flung himself against it, thinking to use the lobby of the office building as a faster way to get one road over. The door held. "Bollocks!"
Tony stepped back and kicked it, hard, just at the handle, like they did on telly all the time. No joy. He sighed and raised the shot gun, then decided that would just waste ammunition and attract attention to themselves. "Well, the idea wasn't bad. Round the building it is, then..."
Loren stopped when the other man that had saved him went for a door nearby. He panted heavily, not used to so much activity, and watched as though this other person might be a little retarded. When the door had proven to be too much, Loren followed the stranger again as they took off. It had definitely occurred to him that it was strange to have met another Brit like this, but he wasn't about to be ungrateful for it. He could have been stuck with a lazy American, and then where would he be? Probably dead.
"Right..." Loren didn't have anything else to say at the moment. He didn't know what he could say. They just needed to find someplace safe to hide, and stay there for probably forever, as far as he was concerned.
Blood. Tony tried not to think about the blood as they ran around the building - stupid fucking door - and reached the next street, the next intersection, the next building. He approached the nearest door on this structure more warily, slowing before testing it. It opened.
Hurrah.
He flashed a winning smile at the boy. "How about that? We'll check to see if it's clear..." His voice trailed off as he entered and turned. "Then we'll bolt it shut, yeah?" He wasn't Rambo or Bruce Willis in those 'Die Hard' movies, but he could manage this, couldn't he? Keep himself alive and at least one other person in this God-damned city -
"Look lively, show me your ticket, get on the bus..." A little punch-drunk that they were still alive? Oh, yes. He'd have to deal with the blood and the boy, but first things first...
Loren came to a stop as Tony tried another door, head tilted back and mouth hanging open. He gaped for air, his throat burning after being so agitated from earlier. There was no way he was just going into that building without knowing it was safe first. He wasn't stupid. Well... he wasn't rash. Er... well, he wasn't going into that building just yet, anyway.
"No," Loren said, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before licking his lips and backing away. "I don' think... um... doesn't look good to me," he said, not sure what else he could say. "You go in first, just... like, look around an' whatever. I'll just... wait right 'ere." There was obvious fear lining Loren's eyes for the moment, something that didn't show itself very often. He didn't like to give away his weaknesses, thought right now was proving to be the exception.
Tony sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. The adrenaline pumping through him was making him feel invincible - which he wasn't, of course. Still, being in the building was better than being exposed on the street, wasn't it? If the boy wouldn't come in, then he wouldn't come in.
"You want to hide, but you want to stay out there? Fine. I'll check this floor and see if there are any suspicious smear marks. I want to get out of the street. I don't want that thing catching up with us. I blew a fucking hole in it, mate, and it was still moving." He nodded to a line of cement, which marked off a flower bed with a hedge in it. "You hide there, if you want. I'll be back. Door's unlocked." He didn't want to leave the boy, but he wanted to check the building. He wanted his 'bolt hole', and he wanted a First Aid kit or something to bandage the boy's hand. He really wasn't good at this shit.
God, I'm not his Dad or anything...
Loren panicked at the realization that he'd be out on the street by himself, realizing that this other man was going to leave him out here alone -- hidden or not. He was unarmed and bleeding, and didn't think he would be able to suffer another attack and survive. "No," he said, hurrying up to the stranger so that they were only mere inches apart. It was as though this way he couldn't be left outside, not if he kept really close. "Just 'urry it on up, then. Go on!" he whispered. Waving his hands toward the entrance, Loren scooted past the taller man and into the unknown, not patient enough to wait any longer. He just needed to get inside someplace, sit down, pass the bloody fuck out.
He was bleeding from the throat and one hand, tired and scared. The last thing he wanted was to be out on the streets any longer.
The panic wasn't lost to Tony. He'd been panicked for the first twenty-four hours, too, but he'd been able to use it as a rush to get his arse in gear and get himself some straps for his suitcase, to break into the gun case at a hardware store and find and break into the ammo storage. To keep moving when all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and rock in terror.
He'd woken up with Rebecca dead beside him and then there were creatures and then there as a woman, alive, and he hadn't been able to save her...
Loren darted passed him. Tony shut the door and bolted it.
"Look, I don't know if this helps you or not, but I'm fucking scared, too. We're going to make it, though." He pointed between them with the hand not holding the shotgun. "You and me. We're going to be fine. Got that?" He managed a grin. "We're fucking British. All we need is a kettle, some tea and an attitude." Tony hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.
Loren looked around as soon as the door shut, startling minutely at the sound but unable to help it in his anxious state. He held his bleeding hand up, cupping it with the other one as he glance through the dark. It was a little more than terrifying, not knowing what could be lurking anywhere at any given time... but hell, at least they were off the streets now. "Yeah," he agreed, looking back to Tony over one shoulder. Slowly he turned to face him, nodding as he settled, his sneakers squeaking through the mostly empty building. "Yeah, that's right. Just some bloody tea an'a good attitude or something." He smiled, though it faded another few moments later. He was definitely on edge right now.
"So um, I'm Loren," he said, settling on needing to get introductions out of the way.
The boy seemed to like that, so what the hell?
My work here is done.
"Right. Positive attitude." His eyes drifted down to the bleeding hand and Tony found himself thinking of sharks. Swarming sharks, around the scent of blood in the water. Blood. He wasn't fond of the sight of blood. His gaze lifted back to the young face before him. "Loren. Hi. I'm Tony." That name fit two of the passports he was carrying. Some options remained open. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but really? We need to get you bandaged up, so let's go..."
He turned and pointed toward what looked like a tuck shop down the concourse a bit.
"That way..."
Loren nodded and headed toward the shop, glad to see it and realizing belatedly that he was hungry. "Hopefully we can find something in there then," he said, glancing down at his hand as they walked. At the very least, he could probably rinse it out with bottled water. "Thanks for the 'elp, Tony. With that thing, I mean..." He was careful to keep his voice low, as though he were afraid to speak up too much. "I don't really think it 'ad me best interests in mind."
When they reached the tuck shop, Loren headed inside and began pulling bags of chips off of the shelves, looking them over as he tried to pick something that seemed reasonable. "We should maybe stock up, yeah?" he asked, giving Tony a sidelong glance. He was clearly seeking guidance.
Tony snorted. "I'll bet there's junk food, mate, and lots of it. Maybe they'll have a box of Band-Aids or something. Don't worry. We'll figure it out." He smiled. "You're welcome. Ah, speaking of which..." He checked his shotgun and yes, he'd pumped another load into it after shooting that - "No, I think it liked you, but you didn't seem to feel the same way."
He was keeping it light without trying to be dismissive. Best to not dwell on it, or so he thought. They reached the shop and the boy gravitated toward the first stash of junk food.
"Yeah," he said, well aware that Loren was looking for leadership. Shit. Tony dragged the free hand through his hair. "You going to stock up on crisps?" He grinned. "Right. Any salt and vinegar? Come on, hand 'em over..."
Distraction. He was good at that. He'd keep the boy distracted as best he could while they ate crap crap and he found something that dealt with the blood...
"Yeah," Loren scoffed, clearly disgusted by the notion that the creature may have liked him. Whether he was going to be dinner or something else, he didn't want to know. "Well, I don' really think I ever wanna see anythin' like that again, thanks. Yuck."
Eager to get as much as he could grab, Loren handed over the salt and vinegar chips more than willingly, blinking his good eye a few times to clear his vision. He rubbed at his bad eye and sighed, going back to collecting candy bars for himself. He shoved a few into his jeans pockets and then tore open a bag of chips for himself. "This'll be the first thing I've 'ad in days," he told Tony, his tone lighter than it had been.
"So," he said, turning to watch Tony better, "what're we doing, then? I mean, like... for keepin' ourselves alive or whatever."
"I doubt we've seen the last of those..." They used to be people, didn't they, Anthony? "Creatures," he said, choosing that word instead of 'monster' or 'freak' or something even worse. He accepted the bag of crisps and opened it by pulling the sides apart at the top. "Where were you when all this happened? Someplace with no food, I gather..."
Tony popped a crisp into his mouth and wandered further down the aisle, looking for bandages or something similar to stop the bleeding, prevent the boy getting infected with... Could he still change into one of those...? Regardless, standard infection was likely still around, so...
"As for what we do now? We fix you up, we find food that isn't full of sodium, and we find somewhere safe to spend the night. You know, set up a 'bolt hole'..."
It made sense to him.
"Definitely," Loren agreed, nodding eagerly as he picked up a box of bandages. Offering them out to Tony, he sighed and told him, "I was in the hospital nearby..." with me mum, he almost said. For now, he would keep that bit of information to himself. He could still hear her voice in his head, calling for him over the hordes of people struggling to escape the building. "Let's just find someplace to hunker down an' be done, then. M'getting tired."
After Tony took the bandages from him, Loren turned to head out of the small shop, lips pressed tight together in thought. "I saw like... sofas an' shit down this way, I think."
He watched Loren wander toward the exit and called out, "Hold up." He grabbed a box of gauze and some of that medical tape on a ring - quite convenient for a convenience store - and wished there was some alcohol handy. Ah, well.
Tony stuffed the items into one of his pockets - as best as he could manage, given his pockets were getting full - and caught up with the boy. He lifted the shotgun.
"Let me take point, alright?"
He wasn't one for stepping into a possibly dangerous position, but Tony was surprising himself a lot these last two days.
Loren slowed down when Tony called out to him, looking back over his shoulder with an almost bewildered sort of expression. "Sure, yeah," he said quietly, nodding and letting the taller man take the lead. He was the one with the shotgun, after all. Seeing as Loren had literally nothing to protect himself with, it made sense to let Tony play the bigger man for now. "I can't wait to just lay down," he grumbled, the words muttered into his palm just before running his fingers through his hair. All he wanted was to lay down and pass out, pretend this wasn't happening and maybe even wake up in simpler times...