In the Sound

I paused to the sound of Randall's harsh breath. He sucked the air between two fat lips. They looked more swollen than usual, like he'd been punched a couple of days ago or something. Bet that bastard wasn't gloating then.

"In fact he's pro'ly wonderin' where I am righ' now."

Randall's googly eyes glazed over as he smirked. His thin lips were wide against his jaw. I could tell he was sweating, probably because I was too. The barn did that to you.

"Don't play cool with me, you little shit," I muttered hastily.

My boots squished as I swarmed over to him, three long strides and I bounced down to his level. Eyes narrowed into thin slits.

He flinched at that, shuddering his gaze away from me until all I could see was his blubbery cheek. It was flushed pink, like fresh primroses. After a second of silence, Randall slowly slid out of his hiding cave. Those dark bulbs flickered over mine before falling back down to my toes.

Maybe he saw my Dad in me. I hoped so.

"He's with a group, camped near town. Got us out of here an' talked his way into the group," his uneven voice sung.

Eyes glued to my boots like they were the most interesting thing in a zombie infested world. I couldn't help but glance down at them quickly, expecting to see some kind of rotten animal flesh coating the bottom of my shoes. Nothing. Nothing but a little bit of mud and a wimpy kid staring at them. He'd probably shine them if I asked him to.

Randall noticed my eyes flutter down.

"Like hell he did," I snickered under my breath, just loud enough for him to catch. "That hermit couldn't get cat shit out of his front yard."

Randall drank in another mouthfull of air. His adam's apple danced along the centre of his throat, making me shiver.

"That aint Bentley no more. He aint the same," his stare was hard. "Things are different now."

I smoothed my palms over my knees, sinking teeth into my bottom lip. I stretched up to my feet. I knew what he meant, I knew the kind of person he meant. But I didn't want to know. If Bentley wasn't the same, if he was a monster, than he wasn't the Bentley I knew. We'd be strangers. And I wished that I never knew if he was alive or if he was dead.

So I spun in the mud, feeling my left heel slide dangerously. I could hear Randall's breath quicken, maybe even his heartbeat drumming harder in his skinny chest.

Scared.

"You're gonna get me outta here right? I mean- can't ya talk to em or somethin'? Hell we been friends since we was kids."

"They're taking you eighteen miles out. Herschel and Mags, they don't recognize you. So you best not come back here. Just get back to Bentley, get back to him and pretend you never saw me."
His giggle drifted across the barn again. It was unsure. Hesitant. The kind of giggle he did when my Dad phoned his Mum.

"That big guy, he's bad. He's not gonna let me go."

My feet swum through the barn mud, dragging me closer to the door like magnets. "Rick wouldn't let that happen. He's not like that." I paused at the metal handle, curling my fingers around it. Looking back at him cautiously.

"You can jus' le' me go, an' I'll be on my ways now an' nothin' will happen to ya group."

Randall was like a damn gypsy. Cursing me and my family for all of eternity? Just like his mother. The Culver family had now successfully cursed my family for always and eternity, and condemned me to burn in hell for my sins. Sweet jesus, was I screwed. I snapped my lips shut, sheltering the threatening laughter on my tongue.

Randall coughed. "If they kill me, it's on your head. Yours."

The rusty roof creaked above our heads, swaying softly wih the wind. His words were poison. They echoed hauntingly. Stinging into my flesh and infecting my veins.

I shook my head at him. Slowly and steadily.

"It's different now."