Chapter 2
"This is so stupid."
"Shut up," Mark held his camera up to his eye and peered through the lens, only catching patches of streetlight in the dark flurry of snow. Roger shoved his hands further into his pockets after pulling up the collar a bit on his jacket.
"How long are we going to be out here freezing?" he asked. He had already decided to go see Mimi once they had gotten back. Mark turned to glare at him. His nose was pink and raw from the cold. He sighed.
"Just a little longer okay?" he turned again to film some more of the freeway. It was remotely quite. Everyone was home and safe for the night. Roger decided to sit on a nearby wall.
"Hey Mark," he called after a second, catching a glimpse of something moving along the concrete median. It was coming closer. With the good of New York came the bad. The crime-filled part of it. And that was all that was going through Roger's mind as he panicked. "MARK!" he shouted. Mark's head snapped up only to meet a pair of dull, sick-looking turquoise eyes. It was a girl. She was very small. But she was beautiful. Her brown hair had subtle patches of blonde streaks. Her face was gentle, her expression soft. But she looked painfully sick.
"Hey," Mark chocked after finding his voice. Roger was at his side in a heartbeat.
"Who are you?" Roger added watching uneasily at the way she swayed. She didn't say anything, her gaze only merely switched over to stare at Roger. Then she collapsed into Mark. He reacted quickly and caught her.
"Wow," he said his knees in the snow. "She's really hot." Roger rolled his eyes and knelt down next to him.
"Usually you're the one having to tell me 'now's not the time'."
"What…? No, not like that stupid. She's heat hot. Feel," Mark took Rogers hand and led it to the teenager's neck. He quickly pulled away. He didn't feel right touching her. Or even being in her presence. It was all too weird for him. Mark was right, she was hot.
"Look," Roger tugged gently on her arm. There was a long cut in what had once been a thin windbreaker. It couldn't have given her much warmth if any at all. Underneath, her white skin had been punctured, a long cut had been indented and matted with dry blood.
"What are we going to do Roger? We better take her with us," he said. Roger's stomach churned slightly. He didn't feel right about it. But leaving her wasn't an option either.
"Okay," he said softly, cradling her in his arms. "Let's go then."