Ch. 31
'Brutality Part two'
Grass grew along the sidewalks and vines crawled up the walls of skyscrapers, the wind was still, as the sounds of birds and insects filled the environment with a calm stillness that the human race couldn't appreciate during their time.
The peaceful tranquility was broken with the collapsing of a horse and the groaning of a person seconds after being thrown from their steed.
Forcing herself up to her hands and knees, Genevieve looked to her beloved horse, choking on an arrow as blood spurted from the animal, another projectile whistled past the teenager's head making her flinch.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she saw several men ambushing her position, her mind had wandered away from her, thinking of her dead lover and of Amanda and of Blake and Summer, getting up quickly, Genevieve saw five people rushing her with melee weapons such as hatchets, and machetes.
Moving swiftly, Genevieve jumped through a window that led into an abandoned storefront, glass shattered and Genevieve fell to the ground and rolled onto her right knee as the sound of a man closing the distance with her, beckoned the survivor into action.
Unsheathing her knife as she rolled, Genevieve turned on her knee and threw it at the man, hitting him in the throat, picking herself up from the vinyl flooring, she wrenched the machete from his dying hands as he fell to the side clutching the object lodged in his throat, blood gushing through his fingers.
No sooner had she obtained the weapon another attacker came with a machete, swinging downwards, pulling her machete up, Genevieve let the blade slide down the machete she wielded, effectively deflecting the attack and leaving an opening, she then spun around and transitioned, smoothly into a stab that struck the opponent's abdomen.
A low yell alerted Genevieve to an incoming attack, shifting her shoulders and dipping her head, Genevieve ducked the hatchet strike, withdrawing the machete in the process.
After removing the hatchet from his comrade's neck, the attacker stood across from Genevieve, she held her machete out in front of her, pointing it at the man while keeping her feet spread apart to keep her balance.
After a heated moment of anticipation, the duo met in combat, the man swung the hatchet in a sweeping moment, grazing Genevieve's machete as she deflected the attack.
The man's second attack knocked the machete out of the teen's hands. Genevieve retaliated by lifting her leg and putting her boot in his chest, and pushing him away, creating a ten-foot space between them.
Genevieve analyzed her situation and the attacker, he still held his weapon, he was larger than her, Genevieve switched her stance to one of defense, knowing well she would lose immediately with the fight in his favor.
Her opponent charged, brandishing his hatchet, taking a step back, Genevieve stepped swiftly to the side, hopping backward to give herself space, keeping her stance in place, her eyes darting across the room in search of a weapon.
The man stood to his full height, puffing himself out in a display meant to intimidate the smaller survivor.
Genevieve saw that the machete she had been wielding had been knocked across the storefront's floor, too far for an attempt at retrieving it.
The attacker moved forward and the sound of the rest of the ambushers was now audible to the teenager, if she didn't move fast, she would die.
Genevieve rushed forward, dodging the opponent's wild, hatchet swipe, moving quickly and decisively, grabbing the weapon arm, Genevieve swept her leg against the man's Achilles tendon, bringing her right hand into his chest and pushing him to the ground with a thud.
Genevieve took the opportunity to bolt, hearing the man's teammates closing in with their ranged weapons, rushing for the back exit, Genevieve retrieved her knife before running out the back door.
Three men entered the storefront; they surveyed the area hastily before helping their comrade off the floor; the four marauders crept forward after the lone survivor.
Genevieve vaulted over a low wall, resting her back against its concrete, the beauty of nature's sounds around her had been replaced with the sounds of grotesque growls and groans known to be from the ever-present undead.
Genevieve's breath hitched as the ambient noise changed, exhaling through her nose to remain calm, she cautiously got back to her feet and crouched as the bandits entered the back alley.
"Ah, fuck! Shamblers are around!" A man wielding a bow hissed as he scoured the nooks and crannies of the alley.
"Let's just find the bitch! She killed Jacob and Drake, we'll feed her to the dead," the one who Genevieve had fought earlier, growled as he rummaged around.
Leaning forward, Genevieve set her fingers on the cold concrete, balancing herself, she crawled away from the group of four.
After approximately ten yards, an arrow skidded across the pavement, right by Genevieve, getting off the ground, the teen raced forth never looking back, projectiles flying by and threats hung in the air.
While the teenager had been missed several times, Genevieve felt an impact in between her shoulder blades.
"I got her!" The bowman shouted as he pumped his fist in celebration as Genevieve stumbled then jumped into a doorway and out of view.
"Shit, let's get her!" The melee wielder said as he ran forward with his hatchet in hand.
Genevieve was breathing heavily as she got out of the line of fire, shrugging out of her backpack with haste, Genevieve found she hadn't been punctured by the arrow, only her beloved rucksack.
The sounds of footsteps approaching, caused the teen to snap her attention to the doorway she had just entered, pulling the arrow out of her pack, Genevieve swooped silently to a broken window which she vaulted through quietly.
The men entered, hatchet wielder first, then the two bowmen after him.
"Spread out, let's find her," one of the bowmen said, motioning to the surrounding area.
Genevieve slipped back into the alley end through the door she had entered through before, the man who had entered last, lingered far enough away that her predatory senses compelled her to strike swiftly, jamming the used arrow into the man's jugular, a court of blood and a gurgle was all that the man could muster before falling to the ground with a thud.
The young survivor quickly scavenged through the bandit's pockets and pulled his quiver off, throwing it on her back and crawling towards the next victim after grabbing the marauder's bow.
Like a feline stalking its prey, Genevieve moved to a darker part of the building and set an arrow in the bow, the two living bandits wandered aimlessly, evidently looking for her.
Lining up the shot, Genevieve breathed in, waiting for a short moment before releasing on exhale, the familiar thunk If an arrow hitting its target was audible followed by cries of pain and the melee man cursing and shouting.
Genevieve didn't take time to check if she hit the mark, instead opting to move from the location as the man would most likely search there first.
Walkers began pouring into the building as if they were water, the melee man's demeanor changed drastically, Genevieve on the other hand took the dead's arrival as a new opportunity opening up.
While she was in the same room as the man, he was the most visible food source, and the noisiest.
The young survivor slipped into a different hallway as the man started running for the front door, the undead gave chase in their classic walking fashion, snarling and groaning as they did.
Genevieve came around the corner and peeked out of the doorway to see a walker trip over nothing, Genevieve noticed he was wearing a nametag that read 'Phil', it crawled after its prey just the same.
Waiting for another short moment, Genevieve hooked an arm around a walker's neck and put her foot on the wall next to the door, and pulled it into the hallway with her, crawling up the undead enemy, Genevieve drew her knife and planted it directly into the walker's forehead.
With a newly re-killed walker, Genevieve put her knife into the walker again, just below the sternum, and forced it down the belly, tearing through its skin.
While this tactic had been tried and truly worked, a survivor needed to be very careful to avoid ingesting the muck or getting it their eyes, while these didn't typically turn someone, they often caused infections that would lead to death, something Genevieve had seen during her time with the scavenging teams.
Slathering the guts and blood and other bits of muck on her clothes, neck, and face, Genevieve painted herself up to be a convincing member of the walking dead.
Adopting a perfected shambling limp, Genevieve fumbled into the mass of walkers, an intense expression was formed upon the girl's face as she saw what remained of the melee attacker's body being consumed by a ravenous crowd of undead.
While the walkers crowded around the bodies of the bandits, Genevieve stumbled out of the store and into the street where she had started, the Saviours would pay for their crimes, Genevieve would make sure of it.
They had a debt Genevieve would collect.
How will Genevieve make the Saviours pay? how could one person make such a difference against such a powerful militia? Find out next chapter!