"What?" Hiram and Shelton asked at the same time.
"I said flare you idiots. Flare now!" He ducked down to examine a small hole about half way up a tree. It was tinged red and the wood was splintered. A bullet hole, and the smell of the bloody gun powder was an awful combination that was making his stomach roll uncomfortably.
"Why? What's up with you?" Shelton half shouted. Ben whirled around and growled loudly right in the smaller boy's face. Shelton let out a small, frightened scream and his eyes flashed bright gold. He inhaled sharply through his nose and was sick in a bush.
"What's going on...?" His question wasn't really a question, more like a confused demand.
"Flare. Smell. Try not to lose your breakfast." Ben said attempting to settle his own stomach. Hi flared and inhaled. Seconds later he too was sick.
Ben ignored the two other Virals and began following the awful scent trail Tory and her assailants had left behind. Blood, sweat, fear. His nose wasn't as strong as Tory's but the smell of raw terror was so strong that he had no problem distinguishing it as pure, undiluted fear. Bullet holes, paw prints and shoe prints alike left an easy to follow trail, not to mention a large amount of broken undergrowth and damaged trees. The smells all combined were too much, and finally Ben too was relieved of all contents previously in his stomach. He let his flare die and the relief of the smell of Tory's blood was both alarming to him and a luxury. He looked back to see two other sets of normal brown eyes looking back at him.
"I know where she's gone, I think." He stated. The bloody trail lead onto a familiar path, he could see it through the trees while he was still flaring, although he couldn't see it now.
"I think she's gone to hide out in the Bunker!" He stated and ran off. They definitely were not going to school today. Splashes of red dotted the foliage and the leaf strewn ground, then dyed the sand an unnatural shade of rust. Ben's feet found the familiar path they always traveled from the complex they all lived in to they're old war time hang out.
A reddish hand print stained the wood at the entrance. They all slipped into the dark interior and gasped. The place had been torn apart, tables and chairs flipped, a couple of picture frames with shattered glass lay on the floor. Ben walked over and picked one up. It was Tory's favorite, a picture of her and a pretty blond girl with bright blue eyes. He didn't even remember her name, but Tory had told them once. She didn't like talking about her old home.
"Oh, no..." Shelton whimpered. Ben and Hi looked at where he was staring, and saw the ladder was down, smeared red, the basket Tory insisted on having up there was on the floor and it was bright red as well.
Ben swallowed the illness he was suffering with, the terror wrenching his heart into his feet, and his pride. He climbed the ladder, and it turned his hands red. He got to the top and was almost sick again. She wasn't there, but blood stained the sandy white floor, and there were massive foot prints in the puddles of crimson. There was a very wet, very red piece of paper on the floor. He grabbed it and climbed back down.
""Ben is she..." Hi asked and Ben shook his head. He unfolded the piece of paper, his eyes scanning it briefly before he put one scarlet dyed hand over his mouth and turned away.
The paper was a note. It read nothing they really needed, but it was an ultimatum.
Hello freaks,
Your leaders still alive, don't worry. We'll keep her alive for three days, and each day you can meet us right here at noon or midnight. Every time you don't show we will put another bullet in the scrawny redhead bitch's body. If you don't show by midnight on the third day we'll put a bullet right through her brain. This was written at 1:26 am, and if the blood's still fresh you should know how long you have still she's gone. For good.
I can't say we won't get her heart by accident, or anything. And, just so you know, there are already two bullets embedded in her body. Tic tok goes the clock, hurry up or the tramp is going to pay. If we find out you've told any one you'll never see Victoria Brennan alive again.
Ben checked his watch. 6:38 am. Three bullets. Five and a half more hours until the next time they would show. He leaned against the wall and put his hand over his stinging eyes. This was probably going to be the longest six hours of his life.
Hope you like this, an that you're still reading of course. I've put up another Viral's story called My Own Hells, and I wont tell you anything about it now but I would love it if you would check it out. Thanks so much, lovely readers, and I am sorry for the infrequent updates, but I'm only in grade 10, and my parents don't like me and enjoy my misery, so I can't update nearly as often as I would like anymore, but I will try to update more often than I have been, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die,might I live forever if I lie. (I'm not lying)