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Fiction Friday!

This week’s Red Writing Hood assignment is to write – fiction or non-fiction – about a time when you took a detour. Where had you intended to go and where did you end up? Your word limit is 600.

Though this is a direct continuation of Knock, Knock, Drip and Run and Caught in Amber, all you really need to know is that these people are under attack. If you want to catch up you can just go to the Sci-Fi Land page at the top and read it all as one longer piece.

Concrit is always welcome. Especially since this is a fighting scene.

Ulysses and Toby move to the flanks and drop to one knee steadying their aim. Tyler stands ready in the center, he is a large man, nearly 6’ 5.” The sun is refracting off his brass colored hair. How Grecian I absurdly think. Tyler fights with two short swords or long knives depending how much you want to split the semantic hair. He prefers the design of these weapons because they cut with every move he makes. Billy is armed to the right of him with a staff much like mine. But once Billy feels like his opponent is coming in too close he’ll drop the staff and surprise them by fighting up close with two curved blades, sickles flashing as they reap souls.

The adrenaline racing across my viscera is making my saliva metallic. Through my heightened senses it feels like it is taking them forever to reach us. They focus on Tyler as intended. He is our large deadly decoy. We need them within six feet to raise the chances of Ulysses and Toby hitting them. Soon enough they cross that line. Four shots ring out, three go down, and that puts the odds in our favor. Two of them are on Tyler and from the slick, warm blood spraying my right arm coupled with a surprised yell at least one is down. Another turns and focuses on me. He has acne, and can’t be much older than Billy, part of me wants to tell him, “Go home son. This is no place for you,” but where is anymore? All I can see now is crazed blood lust in his eyes.

Wait for it Sci, Wait. He raises his arms over his right shoulder to swing his club like a baseball bat at me with all his force. Stupid, he’s left his whole body open. I swing down low ducking under the arc of his arms and hear his ribs break. He doubles over and I swing again cracking it across the back of his head. Tyler, Billy and I are buying time for Ulysses and Toby to reposition and take their second round of shots but there are only two left now and the bullets are better saved for a day with worse odds. A knife flies through the air on my right embedding itself in the back of the man attacking Billy. Tyler quickly finishes his second opponent with slash that nearly decapitates him. In less than 90 seconds it’s over. Billy staggers away from us and vomits on the ground.

Ulysses turns to Toby, “Show off.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“I can see that.”

“Someone take Billy and find us a place to burn these bodies,” I say, reminding everyone we aren’t done here.

We need to burn the bodies to cover our tracks, scout the immediate area making sure there aren’t others so we don’t unintentionally lead them back to our compound and we still need water. Before all of that we need to make sure all these men are dead. I put two fingers against the still warm neck of the acned boy and I feel a strong pulse. My breath catches. I pull a knife from my boot and I feel Tyler’s eyes on me.

“Sci, I can…”

“It’s ok.”

It really isn’t, and as I lift up this boys’ head, cut his throat and take his life, I have to wonder about the detour that my life has taken when not two years ago he could have been sitting in my classroom learning the basics of psychology.