Chapitre 6: Leaving
Tristan Harlow:
"You have to be fucking kidding me," I say, staring at the little kid. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You want us to escort some little brat to the next state over?"
"Hey screw you," the kid yells. "And by the way, I don't want to go with either of you two. I'm staying here with Martin."
"Bailey," Martin says, turning and getting on a knee. "We talked about this. You need to go with these two. Being with me, with any Rebels, is too dangerous nowadays. The military is hunting us down. We lost two bases in the last months and far too many friends and families. That is why I have hired these two. They are the best at surviving on the outside."
Bailey:
I look at the two, the two that are supposedly "best at surviving on the outside".
One is a tall man, with aging grey hairs and sideburns, wearing a dark green, plaid shirt with brown pants and a large grey backpack. The other one is a woman, slightly shorter than the man. She had long brown hair, tied back with a blue bandana, and is wearing a jacket with torn sleeves and jeans. Like the man, she also wears a backpack, but her pack is pitch black and smaller.
Martin turns back to the two.
"As I was trying to say earlier, the pay for this mission is massive. Considering we're leaving the bunker, we'll be leaving you two all the ration cards we have. Along with those will be five wooden crates, each of them filled with supplies; guns, food, water, and medicines. If you want, you can go away and see them right now."
"Take us to them," the woman says. The man bumps her in her arms, before nudging his head. The two of them walk away and start whispering.
"Martin, please," I say, grabbing his hand. "Let me stay with you. I can help. I know how to shoot."
"Bailey, this is the last time I am going to tell you this. You are going with them! End of discussion. We meet back up soon enough."
I grind my teeth together, before crossing my arms.
Rebecca:
"So what do you think," I ask.
"I think this is where our deal ends 'partner'," Drifter replies, turning to leave. However, before he can, I grab his arm and pull him in close.
"Let me go," he starts, "Or I will fucking shoot you."
"Did you hear everything just now," I yell, keeping my grip on Drifter's arm. "Everything he is offering."
"Oh, I did hear that, but did you hear the job? It's fucking insane. He wants us to take some little brat to the next state. He wants us to go outside. Have you ever been outside? It is hell. And that's the sugar-coated version of it. I am not doing this."
"You're leaving soon anyway. Just head off in the same direction as he is paying us too."
"Rebecca, one of the main reasons I became a drifter is because, over the years, I have grown to hate companies. Yours included. I am not delivering some brat. I am not going outside with said brat. This is the end of our deal. Bye-bye."
Drifter pulls his arm free and turns to leave. I see no other choice, so I pull out my gun and shoot Drifter through the back.
"What the fuck," Bailey says, Drifter screaming and falling to the ground. "This is who you hired?"
The same two guards from before burst in, their guns looking all over until they see Drifter and me.
"You said you can take us to a crate filled with medicine."
Martin nods his head and starts leading the way. I, Bailey, and the two guards carrying Drifter all follow after him.
"Should we call Dr. Morty," Bailey asks, "I mean, she just shot him."
"Tristan will be fine," I answer, "We taken worst, and personally, I've seen the guy muscle his way through with two knives in him."
"Really? What happened?"
"A deal that went sideways. Jackass tried to rob me, but luckily, he didn't know about him."
Martin leads us to another shack, opening the door and standing inside. As he said, there are five wooden crates inside, overfilling with supplies.
"Well I'll be darn," I say, walking up to the crate and examining their content. Seeing a rifle lying against one of them, I pick it up and look down the iron sight. "Motherfucker. I'll be honest. I was a little skeptical, but I am glad to be wrong."
"If you two agree to the job, everything in this room will be yours. And a little more."
"Done," I say, pulling out some duct tape and ripping a little off. I tape the rifle to the side of my backpack. "We'll deliver the kid, and we get all of this stuff. It'll all be here when we get back."
"And a little more," Martin repeats.
"Okay. For the record, we'll be going through this stuff and taking what we need. Bailey, get over here."
Bailey looks at Martin, Martin getting on his knee and hugging the kid.
"See you soon," Martin says.
"See you soon," Bailey says.
Martin, and the two guards, leaving, I look at the kid.
"Come on," I say, waving at her to come over. "Filled your pack with everything you think you'll need, and then help me pack his."
"Okay."
We go through the crates, sorting them and picking what seems the most useful.
"No way," I say, reaching over and grabbing a pistol out of Bailey's hand.
"Hey," she screams, "I can shoot a gun. I shot a gun before."
"I prefer you not shoot this one. This particular gun had quite a kickback. Hey, take this one."
I hand her a pea shooter, and she places it behind her.
"I think that's everything. Now for him."
I walk over to the crate filled with medical supplies and grab some bandages. I then walk over to Drifter and begin bandaging his gunshot wound. His eyes open when I finish, and he growls at me.
"Really," he says. "You want this payday so bad you shot me."
Nudging my head toward the crate, I nod and smile.
"This isn't an apple," I say, "This is a fucking bouquet, and you are going to help me. Besides, you owe me."
"I owe you?"
"Yes, you do. You owe me since day 1 when I first got you your fake ID and every day after that when I got us deals and then split them 50/50. Call this a return investment."
Drifter still growling like a dog, let out a sigh as I help him to his feet.
"We already fill our packs," I say. Drifter takes in a deep breath, then walks on his own. "Grab whatever is left and what you need and let go away."
Drifter going through the crates packs his backpack full of canned foods, water bottles, and some small first aid kits.
"Hey," he says, pulling out gas masks and filters. "You're stupid if you think you can leave without these."
Taking the gas mask and putting it in my pack, I look at the crates. The crates, once overflowing, are now almost empty.
"So which way is out," I ask, stepping out of the shack.
"It's this way," Bailey answers, the two of us following after her as guides us through the base. The three of us reach the exit, I take over and guide us toward the bunker's exit.
"This is where Drifter here got in all those days ago."
Walking alongside the metal walls of the bunker, I stop at a part of the wall, this part is covered mostly in rust. I pound my fist against the wall for a bit, before a corner pops out. I grab it and, with Drifter's help, pull it out.
"Holy shit," Bailey says, the entire wall falling out.
"Come on," I say, grabbing and pushing her in. "We don't want any soldiers to see this. They would shoot us before sealing it back up."
Bailey jumps in first, I follow after her, and Drifter is the last, grabbing and pulling the metal sheet in to cover the hole. Finding ourselves in total darkness, I feel my way around until I find the door to the outside.
"Gas mask on," Drifter says, the three of us putting the filter on and then the mask themselves.
"Once outside, you're taking charge, Drifter. Got it?"
"Got it," Drifter replies.
I take in one big breath, before raising the sewer grate.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
QuickShot1445
QuickShot1445 I know it has been a while, but here it is. Chapter 6 of Earth Has Fallen. Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone