Okay, I’m bodged.
This is the first — probably the last time in my life that I will be at a party and I’m actually loving it. I can’t figure out the time, hell, I haven’t been able to find the right fucking door all night. The cunts who rescued us, they’ve smoked out the building in celebration. At first, it didn’t seem like the greatest idea to let reality slip out in the open but, I’ll be honest, their home is well-secured.
It used to be a secondary school but you wouldn’t see the resemblance in the smoke. To the best of my ability, I refrained. The first couple of hours were spent outside with Cameron, Jacob, and Lana but sooner-or-later, Lisa came to my aid and tugged me back into the building where, before long, I managed to lose myself in the twisted hallways of education.
I think we kissed, actually.
At first, the smoke could’ve choked a grown-ass man to death but I adapted, evolved. I might’ve grown gills for all I know but right now — in these fleeting moments — I can probably deal with that. It would, at the very least, make a good talking point.
I want these cunts on our side, y’know?
For one thing, that ute would be more than handy. All in all, I guess the phrase ‘the more, the merrier’ is double-true in case of an apocalypse. They’re all young cunts too; our collective experience has got to be a selling point, right? And, like I said, if Sydney doesn’t work out, they definitely know how to put together a close-knit homestead.
This crew is young, but they’re clever. It’s not exactly child-friendly but they know how to keep the place safe and secure. As the party rages on, they’ve got a sober two on the roof and two watching the ute.
Did you know it runs on vegetable oil?
They’re not exactly light-handed with their gear either. I imagine it’s because they don’t want some dumb cunt rummaging through their weapon stash while their brain’s mashed, firing off at whatever shadows they’re seeing. They’re kept behind a locked door which I’ve managed to knock myself against thirteen times in the ten-song space while trying to get back outside to check on Cameron.
It’s padlocked twice: the private home of the crew’s leader, Luke McCoy. God, I haven’t heard that name in years. McCoy was a kid at my school who got tossed out and homeschooled after he was caught slinging by the bike sheds. He always had a attitude problem, never liked me but I reckon we’ve both grown up. It’s not like we directly fought and anyway, his crew welcomed us in.
But what if he just wants to rob me again?
I’m panicking a bit, I guess.
I probably just need to lie down, just as soon as I find my way back outside.