Ramona
"She's mute," a new voice said.
I pulled my eyes from Bear to the owner of the deep Southern drawl who broke the silence of my informal statement of 'not guilty'. His cowboy boots click-clacked to where Bear stood in shock. He tapped the obviously older yet shorter boy in the shoulder and pointed to Fox, who has started to break a sweat.
"Help him," he spoke with a raspy authoritative voice.
With no hesitation, I lifted my Polaroid camera and snapped his picture, letting the print fall to the floor and the camera once again dangle around my neck. He stood with one boot forward, his thumb tucked into the loop of his black washboard jeans, his right hand resting on the pistol in his pocket. The 5-inch bulletproof glass between us did nothing to dim his leadership over the others. A Loser crawled to his feet, but instead of ending its fruitless mission, the cowboy simply took a few steps back.
"Wolf," whispered the angel on my left.
Wolf looked to Snake, who's real name turned out to be Junior. Junior's dominant behaviour disappeared and he became submissive and even started helping Fox and Bear. Wolf's head turned back into my direction, raising an eyebrow as he moved closer to the window. In reaction, I moved back, removing and then closing my notebook against my chest.
The cowboy's pink lips pulled in a tight line and his blond brows bunched together in a frown. He looked as if he was trying to decipher me. His dark, almost cold eyes were the same umber brown as Fox's spikey hair. I pulled my eyes from his form to Cat and Lioness, who stood behind him, looking for any Losers coming their way.
The previously obstructed doors hissed with relief as the three boys manically removed its strain. For the first time in too long, the stale smell of rotting perishables was momentarily relieved when Fox pulled open the double doors.
My heart skipped a beat and my palms became slick with sweat. A thin line of oily stress dripped down my neck. Small, dangerous bubbles of paranoid thoughts hastily made their way into my mind as I watched Fox carefully strut to me.
A familiar feeling of despair boiled in the pit of my stomach as time stopped and a miniature replica of myself appeared on my right shoulder. The black some she came in loitered at her red biker boots, constantly moving. The smog licked up her ankle and quivered. Her red arrow tail poked little holes in the dark cloud as she cleared her throat to speak.
Her Texan whisper wickedly sung what I was thinking, "What if they're like them others?"
"They ain't," I reassured myself.
"But what if they are?"
I rolled my eyes mentally, "But they ain't."
She rolled her eyes back at me, "You can't just assume they ain't gon' be bad. Y'know what assumin' gotcher last time."
"Why don't you just go ahead and leave, Red?" A softer Southern voice rang in my left ear.
A whisper of smoke appeared on my left shoulder, along with it, came another miniature version of myself. Her golden halo ferociously glowed as her white feathered wings lifted her up to sit upon her cotton candy-like cloud. She locked her ankles together and swung her legs back and forth in a childish way. While pulling on her white leather jacket, she smiled at me, "Why would a group'a bad people try to help you in such'a haste? They really do wanna help you, Mona."
I nodded, "Yeah. Fox seems like he really wants to help me get out."
"Thas 'cause he probably just wants to get into them right jeans you're wearing. Don't be stupid, Mona. There's Losers all over this here place, why would they help you?" Red pulled on my oily hair and glared at Angel.
Angel rubbed her hand against my neck, away from my scars, affectionately, "Darlin', we don't got any more time for debatin'. It's now or never."
I looked at Fox, who stood in front of me, his golden brown eyes boring into my sapphire blue ones. He took one of my gloved hands carefully in his own. His mouth pulled into a soft smile, "You're going to be okay, love."
My bottom lip quivered, 'Thank you,' I mouthed to him. I reached forward and hugged him, grateful tears sneaking down the dry skin of my cheeks.
"Alright, alright," Junior said from behind Fox, "Get your things together and let's go. There's Corpses all over this dammed place."
I pulled away from Fox and grabbed my brown shoulder bag, hastily shoving my things into it. I ran down an isle to the back of the store, where I had been sleeping for quite some time. I grabbed my Canon camera bag and a few water bottles and energy bars I dumped into my bag. Fox stood behind me, seeing the amount of wrappers and empty plastic bottles behind the counter.
"How long have you been here?"
I shrugged, I really only had a rough idea.
He bit his bottom lip, which had a black ring in the side, and offered to take my camera bag. I shook my head and gave him a small smile.
Startling the both of us, Junior smacked the back of Fox's head and growled, "Bag up those water bottles!"
Fox gave me a shameful smile and went to do exactly as Junior had told him. Junior nodded his head into the direction of the doors and started walking that way. I followed him with a small smile, excited to get out of the store I've been inside of for too long.
Bear stood at the door, waiting on us. The girls stood on either side of him, almost a foot away, looking in opposite directions, their weapons at the ready. Wolf was leaning against the window of the shoe store across the Dischem. A cigarette hung from his lips and a machete sat between his knees, his hands busting by creating a place for the knife to be stored on his person.
I watched him until I remembered the pictures I took, still on the floor where I was standing only minutes ago. I scooped them into my hands and shook them to be stacked neatly. I pushed the photos into an inside secret pocket of my bag, zipped it up, and threw the flap of my bag closed again. I lifted my head to see Wolf looking at me, his umber eyes darkening as I stood up, wiping my hands on my black skinny jeans. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I walked over to Junior standing close to him.
He looked at me, frowning, "Can you fight?"
I nodded, Fee and Finn had taught me some self defense moves that has come in handy more than a few times.
Junior rolled his eyes, "I'm not talking about self defense moves taught to you by your dad or brother. I mean can you fight Corpses?"
I frowned, the twins aren't -
"Can you?" He presses on, interrupting my train of thought.
I nodded my head, I've had some experience in Loser combat.
He nodded, accepting my answer, "Do you have a weapon?"
I shook my head no. The only weapon I had was a cricket bat, taken from me a while ago.
Junior bit his lip anxiously, looking down the mall hall.
"What can you use best?" Wolf asked, taking a drag from his almost done cigarette.
I looked at Cat and pointed to her sword she held above her waist, ready to fight.
Wolf frowned, "A shamshir?"
I shook my head, pulling my notebook from my bag. I wrote down a few things and showed the page to him. He looked at the page, reading aloud, "I'm com-fort-able with any kind of sword, have a large collection at home," he finished, "So if I were to put one in yo' hands, you ca' workit?"
I nodded my head again.
He grinned slightly, finished his cigarette and pulled his machete from his belt. Throwing his cigarette to the side, he held the knife out of me, "Just for now, 'til we get yourself a betta' one."
I smiled at him and nodded slightly, noticing Lioness's dirty look and the scowl on her plump lips.
Before she could say anything, Fox called for help, the bags being too heavy. Wolf walked to the door, brushing past me to get to the edgy boy in the back. He smelled of nicotine, iron and sweat, a strange combination that was like heaven to my nose. Possibly because the only smells I've had for a long time was that of rotting food in the fridges.
I put my notebook away and closed my bag, pushing it and the black camera bag from my hips to my back, making it easier for me to move. I exited the store and walked up to the first Loser I saw, it was dressed like an old lady. Taking a deep breath, I launched my arms in the air, the machete cutting the Loser's face and skull open in one powerful swipe. Blood splattered into my hair and face. I spat out anything that might've gotten into my mouth and looked at the items sprawled out at my feet. A few inches from the Loser's head was a box of tissues. I walked to it and picked it up, removing a few serviettes and wiped my face. Just as I threw the defiled wipes and box to the floor, the still dead-living Loser grabbed my ankle, trying to pull my leg to its gaping mouth. I jumped closer to it and shoved my other boot into its head, brain dead muck covering the ankle of my shoe.
I pulled my other foot out of it's dead grasp and moved back to the group of strangers. Cat, Bear, Junior and Lioness looked at me, mouths hanging on their chests and eyes cartoonishly wide.
"How did- Why- Huh?" Bear stuttered.
I shrugged my shoulders and picked up a discarded shirt and wiped the crimson blood from Wolf's machete.
He and Fox appeared, each holding two bags of water bottles and food.
"Lesgo," Wolf grunted, carrying the heavy plastic in front of himself as he squeezed past Junior and the door.