Till Deceived Do We Part

The first time I actually remember taking an interest in Flint, was when I was five. I had met him on vague accounts previously, but before the age of five, most of everything was a blur. I remember when I first saw him, standing in the sun, his hair swaying dorkishly in the wind, and his eyes fierce, his arms crossed, and his mouth moving a mile a minute as he argued with Jake. Argued being the key term. Flint always argued, always wanted answers. I think that was one of the reasons he became second in command.

Flint caught me staring, after Jake left, and punched me in the stomach. I hit him with a rock. I was five, I was still learning how to throw punches. That was the beginning of our relationship, and it seemed to spiral downhill after that. I suppose I have no reason to hate Flint, and I don’t exactly hate him, but it’s just how it is. Maybe it’s the familiar feeling it gives, for me and Flint have always been like that.

That, however, doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do care, as much as it may pain me to admit. He’s my family. So when I got in the car, gunned the engine, and watched Jake’s face disappear in my side mirror, I felt sick. Zane was gone. Jake was hurt. Flint was now... well, I didn’t know. Everything truly was falling apart.

I wanted to get in there fast. To find out what was happening, and whether or not Flint was still alive. Jake had called me on the way, letting me know he was relocating the GPS on Flint’s cell to my cell. The car one had been disabled half an hour ago.

It took me fifteen minutes to make a usual hour drive, and I was going to have to ditch the car, for I was sure I caught the attention of cops and some speeding cameras. I was going too fast for them to try anything then, but I’m sure it would come.

I parked three blocks down from the house in question. While driving would be more effective and faster, I couldn’t risk it. When I did reach the street in question, I slowed my pace.

My eyes scanned the area, curses already shooting through my mind. The street was deserted. All the houses were a fair bit away from each other, even if most of them looked run down, with rot and plants beginning to grow on them. A forest lay behind the houses on the left, but from the angle I was coming from, it did no good.

There were no cars or trucks. There were no trees, only stumps and weird flowers and weeds. With the distance between the houses, there was no way I could pull the stealth move. If anyone was watching me, I was screwed. I was only hoping they hadn’t contracted a sharpshooter. Now that would be bad.

I took a deep breath, found the house with my eyes, and dashed. My legs sprinted, my arms holding tightly to my gun, ready for an assault. Nothing came. I reached the house, and quickly pressed my back against the side, my eyes scanning. Quite. Too quiet.

The house squeaked with my back against it. Holes were punched into the siding, and the stairs... well, there weren’t any. I jumped the distance, and without thinking, slammed my foot into the door.

It shattered inwards as I dived, hitting my shoulder and rolling. I surged to my feet, pressed my back against the wall, and pointed my gun... at nothing. My breathing was as heavy as the silence, as I took in the place.

Two floors. However, again, no stairs. I wasn’t going to make that jump. A living room, which I was in, that led to the kitchen. The walls were brown and mildewed, bugs crawling all over the place. There were a few pieces of furniture in the place, but all were overturned, in almost a shield fashion. Upon a closer examination, I found bullets embedded in some, bullet holes in other.

I pulled out my cell, keeping my senses alert. I glanced at the screen, to the beeping red dot.

It was close. Real close. My heart hammered as a sense of dread filled me. I followed it, leading myself to the kitchen. The kitchen looked worse. The fridge had been opened, and the door was littered with bullets. The few dishes that had remained in the place were shattered all over the ground, and it seemed no surface didn’t have blood.

Bloody hand prints caked the counter tops and island. The sink was covered in blood, as if someone had leaned over it as their nose had run red. The floor had bloody footprints smeared together, but one in particular caught my eye. The one, in question, led to the same area the dot was pointing to; the pantry.

I raised my gun, my body moving slowly and quietly to the area. Please let him be alive. Please. The pantry had those swinging doors, the ones in old westerns. They were cheesy and lame, but that didn’t stop people from buying them.

I pushed them open, my gun trained in the darkness. Nothing but darkness. “Flint?” I asked, my voice quiet. No response. I didn’t expect to get one.

My hand trailed the wall, looking for a switch, as my gun remained trained in the dark. This was bad. I couldn’t see if anyone was ready to shoot me or not, and turning on the light could very well get me killed. However, what choice did I have?

My finger flipped the switch, and the artificial light seared to life. I flinched at the brightness as my finger went to my trigger. I didn’t pull. I didn’t need to, for a corpse lay in the middle of the pantry.

It wasn’t Flint. I didn’t know who he was, for his face was a bloody mess. The man in question, was gripping Flint’s cell phone, though. I didn’t have time to worry about it, or the fact this man may have some clues on him. I hurried out to the kitchen, and found my eyes trailing to the ground. The bloody footprints all led, with the exception of the dead man’s, to the back door. I swung it open, my gun trained on the backyard; the backyard that led to the forest...

Shit. Sure enough, the footprints did lead to it, many of them scuffled. This was bad. For Jake had many rules, but there was one that he drilled into us more than usual. Never go into a forest. For help will never come. It’s too hard to come, to sneak up on something and someone you don’t know where they are. There are too many places to hide, and the saviour and can easily turn into the corpse.

I backed up into the house, my heart beating fast. What was I to do? Jake had said to never go in, but it was Flint...

I pressed the speed dial, and held my phone to my ear. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do.

“Is he alive?” Was the response I got, as Jake picked up on the first ring.

“A scuffle leads to the back forest.” Silence. He was thinking.

“Assuming he was alive when we went, he may be dead now.” His voice was quiet. “Could you track the GPS?”

“I found it on a corpse in the kitchen. I want to go in, Jake.” Silence. “Jake.”

“I don’t want to lose you too.”

“Let me rephrase, Jake, I phoned for advice. I’m going in. You can’t stop me over the phone. But how should I proceed? We didn’t have much of this training.”

“For it’s pointless to train a place that is so unpredictable, and where the variables can change every second.” He didn’t argue me, and I’m sure he was relieved I was going after him. He wouldn’t say it, but if I managed to save Flint...

“Time, Jake.”

“Go slowly. Don’t make noise, stay hidden. Listen. Find them. Either circle, or hit them from above. Climb a tree, if you have to. Hit one, then move. The sound, even with your silencer, is going to be loud in the forest. Take them out one by one. Got it? If you can’t, get out of there. Weave. Never go into an open area.”

“Got it. Call you later.”

“You better, Drake.” I took one deep breath before making my way out back. Even if it was only midday, the clouds still hung overhead, making the yard seem dark and deserted. I was hoping for the deserted part.

I quickened my steps once I was relatively sure no one was watching. The footsteps never veered off, so assuming they were accurate, no one should have doubled back to keep watch. I could only hope.

The forest loomed darkly into the sky, and already I knew my eyes would be straining. Did the men bring Flint out here, or did Flint take off for shelter? I didn’t know, I wish I did. Maybe then I would know what I was walking into.

I would take Jake’s advice and go slow. Quiet. I didn’t have much choice. If luck was on my side, they’d be concentrating too much on Flint, and I could just sneak in an-

Crunch. The sound echoed in my head, repeating and repeating. I shouldn’t have cared what I had stepped on, for I had more important things to worry about. Flint’s life for one. But a pulling on my gut urged me to bend down, and I did, picking up the object in my hand. I had to examine it closely to see what it was, for the lack of light, and the fact I stepped on it, didn’t help make the object more identable.

Wires protruded from it, a small square box completely crushed...

Why did it look familiar?