Blood & Fire: 2nd attempt » Places

         Flynn had never been so cramped in her whole life. Not to her memory anyway.

Frightened out of her mind, she had slammed herself into the rotting carcass of a nearby vehicle. The windows had all been shattered long before and some birds had clearly made a nest out of the front seat. Flynn, thanking whatever gods there might or might not be, practically flew through the back shattered window. Her thin boyish body was a blessing at this moment as it helped her avoid the shards of glass dangling like teeth in the old warped window frames. Blood would only draw them. Some of the nesting birds chirped at her--startled by her appearance but thankfully, they did not take to the air. It must be sitting on an egg, Flynn thought gratefully. She had heard about the protectiveness of mothers. She couldn't remember her own.

Flattening herself, Flynn wedged herself under the back seat in the small rotted space between the floor and the back bench. It was very cramped. But the scent of the birds should cover her own. Should. Should. Her heartbeat seemed to say it too. Should. Should. Should.

But if it didn't? She was a snack for them. Waiting to be tasted. Waiting to die. A tin can snack. Flynn swallowed dryly, focusing on steadying her panicked ragged breathing. It was far too loud in this tiny space. Her sense of time felt warped. Her feet began to cramp uncomfortably. Gingerly, slowly, she tried to stretch her toes in her awkwardly fitting boots. How long had passed? Minutes? Hours? Would the pack even look for her? Maybe they would just be grateful...

Time passing. The gentle rustle and chirping of the mother bird. Time passing. Flynn shifting as gently, softly, gingerly as possible. Listening. Straining her ears for movement. Any sign that she was found. None came. She must have fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion at some point. She jolted awake, nearly exclaiming in surprise when the sound of running footsteps, fast, very fast came to her ears. She stuffed a fist into her mouth, biting down to silence herself.

"Brandon!" She heard a male voice. Familiar. The same one from before? Then a sound as if someone fell. Could vampires be clumsy too? She was shaking with the effort to keep herself silent. Shaking with the fear of discovery. Flynn heard moment, someone getting to their feet? Someone else running. Two pairs of running feet? The sound grew distant. She waited. Silence. The mother bird twittered in her nest. They didn't smell her? Was this a trap? Hesitantly, she inched from her hiding space. Her body protested, aching as she drew herself into a crouch. Cautiously, she peered through the back window at the bookstore. The scent--the very cold scent was fading. The mother bird, realizing Flynn was still present began to cry out loudly. This seemed as good a time as any to make her exit.

It was light out--an early pink of morning. Were vampires weaker in the day or was that a myth? Flynn couldn't remember. She didn't want to personally find out. As quickly and quietly as she could, she made her way toward the edge of the city. Her bag rattled softly as she jogged, the medicines she'd scavenged clinking around. A sense of relief washed over her as she made it to the treeline. She was nearly home. And she was not dead. Or undead.

         Lance left the colony to go hunting. He was old and most of the colony thought he was crazy, but he made himself useful. He walked down to the waterfront, skeletal wreckage of large boats lined the docks from the flare knocking out their engines setting them adrift until they came to rest against the docks. He had his fishing pole with him today and he went into one of the wrecks so he could fish without being seen easily. He cast his line out into the water from the broken down deck of an old yacht that had run aground and only the back end was still in the water. He sat in an old chair and kept an eye out for vamps, though most of them had stopped hunting this area thinking that the humans had already been wiped out in this city. He kept a makeshift axe next to him, made from sharpened steal scrap metal embedded in an old baseball bat, and it doubled as a blunt object too. He was good with it and had decapitated many a vampire with it in his younger years and he made sure to train a little every morning to stay ready and in shape should he ever have to do it again.