Chapter 4

Spike couldn't believe his eyes. Sunny was laying down dead on the floor not twenty feet away, the life drained out of him. His greying intestines entwined with the roads surface like spaghetti. He felt something snap inside him, some horrible and blinding rage began to swell and rocket to the surface.

"Smo-smo-smoker man...Sunn—sunni help me to spak" the jockey muffled under a closed hand rested on his face as he curled up into a ball;

"He hayulp me...hayulp me to speak.." he sniffed again and pulled the mask over his face, his cries now muffled and raspy through the mask. "He give meh..give meh dis massske" he patted his face to signify what he was talking about, even though Spike knew full well what he was talking about, he still smiled inside as the tiny man explained himself with an exuberant enthusiasm underlined with a pang of sorrow Spike could just make out over losing his teacher.

"Me..miss...me miss tall smokey man.." Spike sighed, he couldn't move, his muscles were fried and the engine was on fumes at best. He grunted loudly as the rain carried on slamming down, the salt from the skies stinging his closing wounds.

"NO!" he looked at the Jockey. "ME hayulp big man.." he scampered to his feet, and pulling a flask from the back of his person that Spike assumed was clipped to his belt, unscrewed the top and took a large swig from it.

"Whisk-hic-ey!" he spoke in a high pitched rasp, his small metabolism obviously not tailored to the strong beverage. "Whish-key" he slurred again. Spike found it oddly amusing, and felt himself smile even though all you could have seen was the small remnants of his upper lips and his facial muscles wrinkle up. He looked at the Jockey take another swig and then put the cap back on, pocketing it and then doing a speedy back flip, chirping happily.

He did one more before managed to knock himself out on the concrete, a massive yelp screeching from his person as he seemed to be unglazed by the blow. Most likely due to being drunk or the hardened military gas-mask. He stood up after a while, smiled with a bloody nose and then pulled the mask over his face. And then he simply set off on a run away from where Spike could see him, his minute steps echoing through the empty road.

Alone again. Spike was alone once more. He had grown oddly fond of the Jockey's crazy shenanigans and wished he could return even though right now he would probably be killed by now for diving on a man's head right away or missing and going off the side of the bridge. He could still hear the remnants of a small group of survivors scattering around somewhere and honestly wondered what they would do if they found him. He decided to rest his eyes and heal until he could move under his own steam again. He did not want to be killed when he had revenge to carry out. As well he really wanted to punt that Jockey off the bridge.

He felt some time pass by, his body didn't ache so much and he still couldn't really move. His arms weren't so heavy any more, and the stinging searing agony had dulled to a groaning ache. He had tried to move a few times but to no avail, his wounds were still too severe.

"NO!" he heard a female voice erupt from nowhere "NO! NO NO SUNNY!!" he could hear the panic and the desperation in her voice as she moved closer. Spike tried to open his eyes but, all he could do was turn his head in that general direction, and try to hope he could open them.

"You led me here for this?" he felt a thump, heard a whelp, and then a another solid impact noise followed by another timid cry. "WHY!?"

He could make out that the infected there was Zhay, she was obviously distraught and in pain. He hoped her shoulder had healed and was able to fight again with that stronger pair of humans about. Spike once again tried to open his eyes.

A sound of sobbing made them shoot open. He had heard that sad sorrowful sound before and hoped he would never have to hear it again.

Her holding Sunni in her arms, his lifeless form splayed out limp made something knot up in Spike. She sobbed deeply and her tears could be felt from where he was sitting still propped up against the car. He tried to speak, but he couldn't, his lack of lower jaw only allowed groans and grunts and this angered him. He couldn't tell her how sorry he was, how he wanted to let her know he was there for her, to support her and look after her. All he could do was lie there like a fucking useless doll while his only friend lay dead in his lovers arms.

Spike boiled with rage, his eyes stang from the rain and he felt cold. His skin tore as he pulled away from the car he was stuck to and had began healing on somehow. He grunted and roared as he saw Zhay look up and her face meet his.

She had retained her human looks mostly, her eyes a milky pure white rather than missing like most hunters. Her delicate youthful face had fine scars on it as Spike was sure he did too, a light, shoulder length dirty brown hair, tied back lining her face. She was about half his height and wore a now stained and muggy white hooded top, brown combats and a pair of black trainers. Her hands seemed more wicked than other hunters and he had seen them kill first hand. Smartly, she had bandaged up her wounded shoulder and now sported an armoured vest. A Molotov hung from her waist, in a makeshift holster a survivor had fashioned.

Spike somehow managed to lift himself to his feet, his muscles burned and roared tearing as he felt like he had never moved in his life. He was shaky and would not get very far but he knew he would need to get out of the open, a tank was a tank and he knew they would shoot a moving one until it stopped doing so. Even if he did look like Swiss cheese.

He took in the bridge, there were several cars scattered about, battle scars, bullet casings and a few semi's overturned. It seemed to stretch on for an age as it disappeared onto Cinder, he didn't fancy going there in his state. Many many humans still were alive there and were largely untouched. He felt blood dribble on the ground and limped onwards.

Sighing he struggled to make his way to the edge of the bridge, that would lead to a set of maintenance tunnels where he could go to rest. The survivors generally didn't go in completely dark places for fear of being killed by unseen enemies as they were packed with infected and others like himself.

The rain bit into him, and with each tentative step he slowly made his way to the edge of the bridge, each sluggish and steady stride much more difficult than the last. Like the turtle, slow and steady he advanced, stopping only for a brief moment to look at Zhay. She was holding Sunny in her arms, his face finally looking as if it was at peace, a single tear ran down his cheek. She sobbed watching him with sorrow in her eyes, fear on her lips and anger in her heart. Zhay wanted revenge and Spike would help her get it.

Taking a first step off the concrete to the small dirt path that would lead to the underpass, he felt a small hand rest on his shoulder, it was Zhay. She did her best to support him, taking in the size difference to account and move him on. Spike smelt burning, and glanced back to see Sunny alight in a fiery orange blaze, his body slowly being consumed by the roaring inferno. Zhay obviously used that survivors Molotov. He nodded to Zhay in thanks and let out a very unenergized breath, the cold again taking it along in the breeze as the pair stepped down the muddy path, along the dirt trail to a large double door nestled in the concrete behemoth that was the Cinder bridge.

The underpass was as he always remember it as he stepped into it. Cold, dark and full of old barrels that hobo's used to warm themselves up, which Zhay went and lit one near a corner of the spacious room. He could tell said hobo's were long gone and he chuckled to himself what they must have thought If he came and sat down next to one, grinning and wishing he could say:

"Ello' 'guvnor" as Sunny often did.

Each room was danker and grimmer than the last but Spike wanted a place to dry off and sleep. His wounds on his side and stomach were healing well, but the now reopened wounds on his back were stinging like a mother. Slowly he closed his eyes for a moment and let out another lamented sigh. He would miss Sunny, and wished he was finally happy in whatever afterlife he was currently in. He raised a fist to the sky out of respect, as Zhay struggled to keep him upright for the brief second he did so. She followed it by doing the same.

He stumbled and fell to his knees, then sitting up straight as Zhay did her best to make the move to the floor as easy as she could. He panted heavily, the small trip having taken all his energy from him. Like a faithful puppy, the Jockey had followed them, and had several red Medkit bags with him, all somehow balanced in his tiny arms he looked like a clown his minute legs buckling as he threw them down on the ground next to him. Spike found himself smiling that the small rodent could be so resourceful. He pulled something out of his trousers, something that looked like a small bottle of something.

"PEELZ!" he chirped "PEELZ HERE!" he repeated that for around two minutes, which felt more like ten, or fifteen, or an hour.. Spike wasn't sure.

He saw Zhay laughing, her face alight from the small flickering embers of the barrel as they cast shadows around the room, the trio bathed in an orange light. The small jockey ran around the room saying his new found phrase with much glee until he tripped and stumbled on his ass. He lay staring at the ceiling, his hands down by his sides.

One arm shot up:

"PEELZPEELZPEELZPEELZPEELZ HERE!"

Spike was gonna drop kick him off the tallest building he could find...

...as soon as he could feel his legs...