I shot a man.
Those were the words trying to leave my mouth when Mom grabbed the gun out of my hands, and pointed it at Mark. During this whole ordeal, I'm just frozen in shock. I fucking shot him. He's dead because of me. Everything is a blur for a few moments, and I look to my right to see Mark slowly standing up. Damn, Dad messed him up good. I force my macabre thoughts into the back of my head so I can listen to their conversation.
"He's coming with us." What? Mom, really? I start to climb out of the truck to tell my Mom how stupid of a plan that is. Mark kidnapped me. I'm not staying with him any longer. As my feet hit the pavement, words seem to have trouble escaping my mouth. I want to tell Mom how I feel, but the mental image of Steven's head exploding from a bullet keeps creeping into my brain. The carnage, and the gore... oh, God. What has this world come to?
I feel something hit my feet, and I look down. It's a rope. Dad points at Mark and says, "Get him in the truck, and then tie him up." I slowly pick up the rope, and walk towards Mark. I don't want to risk the fear of not talking again, so I just look at Mark and then point to the truck. It's pretty obvious that he gets the picture.
After he sits down in the back seat, I tie his hands behind his back. I tie the rope a little too tight, and Mark winces. "Fuck you," he mutters. After silence that feels like forever, I open my mouth and respond, "The feeling's mutual." I plop down in the backseat, as far away from Mark as I can get. Mom and Dad get in the front seat and we're off again. I tune out their conversation, because I want to stay out of as much as possible right now. I stare out the window and watch the scenery pass by.
☠
The vehicle slows down to a stop, and I pull myself out of my stupor. We're stopped in front of a convenience store, in Who-knows-whereville. Mark is asleep in the backseat, and it's almost dark outside.
I think about waking Mark up, but I figure it's not important. Dad turns around and says, "You and I are just going to check and see if there's anything we can take from here." He hands me a knife, and gives me an encouraging nod. I take it, wishing I could just stay in the truck longer.
Mom stays in the car, probably to keep an eye on Mark. We reach the front of the store, and Dad looks at me. "Ready?" he asks. I reposition the knife firmly in my hand, and then I nod. He opens the door slowly, and it creaks the whole way. We wait a while, but nothing happens. If anything was in there, it would have come out by now.
Dad enters, and I follow suit. The place is fairly empty, like I figured it would be. However, there's a few things left over. Dad grabs some granola bars, a couple energy drinks, and some water bottles. I don't find anything else interesting, but I see another door. It's locked, with an actual padlock.
"Dad, let me see your gun." He looks at the door, and then shakes his head. "Lizzy, we can't risk it. Whether or not, it's wasting a bullet and creating a lot of sound. Not to mention it'd be hard to shoot it off." I'm disappointed, but it's short lived. I start heading back towards the door.
"Hey," Dad begins. "Are you okay?" The question throws me off, although I know what it's meaning. "I'm fine, Dad. Really." The room is silent for a second. He's probably analyzing my response. Reading into it like a parent. "You know, you can tell me anything," he continues. "What just happened was something crazy, Lizzy. Something that's going to be hard to recover from. However, this is going to have to be the way the world works now. You'll get used to it. We'll all get used to it."
A snapping noise comes from the other side of the room. Dad and I stop moving. I slowly walk ahead. Dad's is shaking his head and mouthing something, probably encouraging me to stay away, but I'm not concerned. I turn the corner and I see a shadow. Dad slowly stands up taller and raises his gun. "Whoever you are, you've got 10 seconds to show yourself and why you're here."
The shadow emerges. A man with a grisly beard and a ripped up shirt. Tacky, but presentable. "You know, I was just gonna ask ya'll the same question. I've been coming here for the past few days, and now somebody new shows up out of the blue. Who sent you?" Dad scoffs at the man's comment.
"Nobody sent us," he says. "We're here to pick up supplies for our family. We have more than one person to take care of, unlike you. We could give you a few granola bars if yo-". The man began laughing, which then turned into a hard cackle.
"Bunch of pilgrims you are! Coming into my store, taking my things, and then acting like it's your own. How about this? I take all my stuff back, and you can kiss my ass?" The man seems angry. Dad repositions the gun deeper into his shoulder. "Hell no," he replies. "You can spare us some food, you're here alone. Who else do you need to feed?"
The man laughs again, and his lips turn into a curved, cocky smile. "Counting just the men, over one hundred in total."