Aim for the Head (Chapter 4)

They left at the crack of dawn, when the sun rose just over some of the buildings and
blanketed the rumble beneath their feet with shadows and a golden light. Lucas packed a backpack full of food and water needed for the long day ahead and kept his gun satchel hidden from Dante, just in case he took his approach the wrong way. Dante gripped his weapon in his dominant hand, now a crowbar instead of a pipe, set out in from of him, ready to swing. They walked through the city in a rush, going front and back around every building to look for an entrance, finding none. But their hope wasn’t lost yet; they continued on their way.

“What do you think about all this?” Dante asked, gesturing around the town and looking down.

“…What do you mean?”

“This,” he gestured again. “As in, are you scared of the screechers?”

Lucas gave him a complexed look. “Hm, so that’s what you call them. That’s fitting. But I’m not sure, actually. I’m sure if something happened to someone I cared about, I would be. My parents fled the city without me.” Lucas glanced at Dante. “What about you? Why are you out here alone, like me?”

The change in Dante’s expression was quite noticeable, and Lucas immediately regretted the question. But he knew now that his blond friend was a nice person, and would probably answer any question thrown at him.

Dante sighed. “Uh, well, my apartment building burned down at the start of it all. My mom had left when I was really young, but my dad died in the fire, or the collapse of the building. I don’t know. Look-“ he pointed in a general direction, and Lucas followed. “You can see the crumbling remains of my apartment building,” he pointed.

“Oh, yeah. I see it,” Lucas replied solemnly. He wasn’t quite sure is he should’ve laughed or not; the topic was touchy.

“But yeah,” Dante continued. “I made it out somehow and kinda just… ran. I got to this one place inside an old restaurant. I’m not quite sure what it was, but it was like a secret hiding spot; it was so cool! Perfect for my ideal room size, if you can call it that,” he chuckled fondly. “And, well, I just sorta made my little den in there, where I took you.”

“How did you even find me?” Luke asked with an odd, puzzled smirk.

Dante smiled back at him, continuing to walk. “I heard your gunfire. Were you attacked?”

“Pssh, not even. It was one screecher, and I just didn’t know how to kill the damned thing,” Lucas laughed. “I tried a bunch of times. I shot it in the arm, the chest, and out of nowhere I got it in the head. Somehow that was the only way to kill it. Again. Or, something.”

“So you don’t know?”

Lucas paused, a bit confused. “Huh?”

“About where to hit. You can only kill them if you destroy their brain somehow. It’s because when you “come back”, the only parts of you that come back are your ability to walk and groan. None of you comes back. Do you get it?”

“I guess,” Luke replied, question in his tone. “But, how exactly do you know this? From another one of your books?”

“No, ask anyone. They’ll tell you the same thing. Unless they’re one of those people who thinks that there’s a cure. Those guys are all over the idea of ‘they can come back! These are people, they’re just sick!’” he mocked. “No, you don’t understand. They’re dead, and even if we do find a cure, most of the screechers would be killed by that time.”

Luke nodded, keeping a steady pace with Dante. He had to admit, he was pretty scared of those “things”, or the screechers. But he now knew the way to exterminating them. Again. He felt safer, less panicked than he had felt before.

But an sudden, ear-splitting rattle of a truck horn tore him from his train of thought.

Dante yelled in horror, his eyes going wide and his crowbar dropping to the ground in shock. Lucas cursed bitterly, knowing full well the blond’s fear of noises and yanked Dante’s arm, sprinting to the nearest alleyway and hiding behind the first dumpster walls.

Tears welled and burned in Dante’s eyes and he felt dazed, breathing quickly and audibly, as if the walls were closing in on his feeble physique. He hated anyone to see him cry, even if it was just slightly, so he turned away. Trembling, he flinched as a comforting hand was placed on his shoulder, followed by a tacit “It’s okay.” Dante panicked even still, feeling small and sickly yet.

Lucas didn’t get the chance to move closer to the fragile boy and calm him down, because the vehicle that was speeding on the road just before theirs turned sharply and came to a screeching halt. Two women and two men hopped out of the banged-up truck, holding heavy artillery. They all had hard exteriors and determined, angry faces, as if they’ve been through a thousand years of hard labor and trauma.

“Oh, shit…” Lucas peeked at the group with panicky, wide eyes.

And one of the men, who’s hair was a silvery white color hanging down to his mid-back, sauntered a few yards in front of him, where a crowbar lay flat on the pavement.