Run.
That was the only thing on his mind. Run. He didn't know where he was running to. But he knew he must run. Or they will get to him.
He didn't bother sidestepping the puddles made by then heavy rain he was running through. His scent won't be tracked by them.
He slowed down a little to glance at a sign. He recognized this street. They were living on this street. Maybe they will be willing to help him. That is, if they were still alive.
And he better hurry. He doesn't think his left leg is going to hold out any longer.
Minho had been walking back home from Walmart when it started raining. Cursing the fact that he forgot to bring his umbrella, he sprinted back home. He just hoped the rain wouldn't ruin his things though.
He had reached the apartment where he stayed and was greeted with an odd sight. A person cloaked in a dirty, ragged, brown cloth that reached his calves, knocking on his neighbours' door. He was visibly struggling to stand up straight, especially with his bare feet full of bloody cuts and scratches.
He got closer to the suspicious person, but it didn't seem like he noticed Minho.
"Hey dude," Minho called out, but the person's insistence made him wonder whether the person was deaf. "I don't know what you want with them, but the Bertrams aren't home tonight. They'll be back tomorrow."
The knocking reduced, and when Minho was feeling relieved that the person could actually hear him, something happened.
The person collapsed in front of the Bertrams' door and Minho immediately ran towards him. He shook the person desperately, hoping to get a response from the person. "Hey, wake up!"
He rolled over the person and removed the hood. Minho was surprised to see that he was just a teenager, probably about the same age as him. What's more surprising is that the teen looked familiar to him.
The teen groaned in pain and Minho quickly focused on the task at hand. The boy had definitely been looking for his neighbours, Barry and Bertha Bertram, the elderly couple that lived next door. He hoped the boy or the Bertrams wouldn't mind that he's taking the boy to his own house first seeing as the Bertrams are gone.
He wondered what relationship the Bertrams have with this teen as he carried the boy into his house.
'Light,' he thought. The boy was too light in his opinion.
He settled the boy onto the couch and for the first time he noticed that the boy's cloak was not stained with water, but a substance sticky and darker.
Blood.
He drew his hands back from under the teen. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw what was on his hands.
His hands were covered in blood.