Ruben:

Part II – Crimson Tendencies

The room explodes in darkness. The long tube lights shatter overhead. Jay pulled his trigger. At the exact same time as Natalie. The door behind Jay struck back against the white tiled walls. The shotgun exploded, sending veins of crimson and gold flaming across the room. It blossomed around Jay's body, enveloping him in its tainted grasp. His shot went unbroken into the lights above. Glass hailed around me, ringing on the floor. In the darkness, new shots blew through his body, erupting his chest in carnage. The light of the weapon continued well into the dark, its fingers outstretching even to me. Tentacles fingering ever closer. Then it cut off, shots warbling indelibly through the air.

Jay's body stopped trembling on its dead feet. I was slammed back against the far wall as his body flew across the room into mine on the final discharge. It felt like all my ribs cracked as one on impact. My head slapped against the wall, sending a framework of blood scattering across it.

Natalie rushed to meet me. Her eyes were wide with fear and shock. Her face was patterned with Jay's lifeblood. It dripped down off her chin and around the corner of her lips.

She just stared at me, stuck in a nauseating disquiet. Then she gripped my shoulders and kissed me long and hard.

The door across the room was kicked open once more, several students pushing through.

Tubs', the fat, greasy haired student stood at the forefront of the action, along with Kent. They saw the satchel on the bench, rings scattered on the floor.

I smiled then, when they looked at me in shock and distress. Natalie spun,

'Their cannibals' she gushed. The two boys smiled.

'We know' Antoine stepped forward, 'and you just slaughtered Jay.'

In a flash, they were both being dragged on their knees through the diner, out into the car park.

'Antoine, you don't have to do this.' Ruben said, trying to be calm, but the quiver at the end of his sentence ended all hopes of that.

'I think I do.'

'Antoine...'

'No! I don't care Ruben, I don't care about you or your backstabbing harlot.'

'Then why-'

Kent landed a flying blow to the side of his face, sending him toppling over onto the gravel. Beside him, Tubs' was necking Natalie whilst her hands were tied from behind.

'-Did you give me this?'

Ruben pulled the colt Antoine gave him earlier and cocked it, blowing Kent's cranium into mist. He turned, blasting Antoine in the gut. He collapsed backwards into the tire of the truck, grasping his gaping wound.

The other kids stared in horror. Ruben placed his barrel against the back of Tubs' head. The boy slowly slipped the rifle off his back… …and handed it to Ruben butt first, who hooked it over his shoulder.

'Natalie?' he said, reaching down for her hand. She took it, gracefully returning to her feet. He handed his newly acquired weapon to her, and they both stood awkwardly with their firearms aimed at the students.

'No!' Antoine screamed and roared as they both walked regally away.

'KILL THEM!'

Squabbling in the dirt, he reached for his pistol. Cocked it, aimed with one hand down the road.

Blam!

Tubs' already had his pistol out.

The last Ruben saw, a figure reached over Antoine's body, and the other kids pulled him away inside the diner.

It was only a few hours later when the sun manifested itself on the ambit of his vision. They'd followed the rode for half a mile, before steering back into the woodlands to the west. Skyscrapers soared above the trees to their south, ominously beautiful, signs of a lost world; one no one could control, nor ever hope too. The evenings passed, every hour more vital than its predecessor, every moment of his life mattered, and it shocked him at first. But he soon grew used to belonging to the single society around him, the unnatural world that grew without neither hurry nor haste.

It was a morning later, maybe two. Natalie held a bottle of wine or whisky, or maybe even scotch. He didn't know anymore. Their clothes were soggy, dirty. His jumper was hanging over the rope they'd strewn between trees. They sat with their backs to a satellite dish overlooking Atlanta.

'Take it.' She handed him the bottle, He shrugged and took it, downing a long swig. He swished the remaining liquid.

'Watch this.' He tore a long piece of cloth off his sleeve and rolled it up, tucking it into the bottle before striking a lighter. Nat' said she'd stolen it from Tubs', or was that Kent, or Antoine, or… he couldn't remember.

He lit the shirt that hung from the neck of the bottle.

'What are you doing?' Natalie yelled in sudden panic. Ruben just laughed wildly, manically. He held the bottle out in one hand, looking at her. Spinning, he tossed it swiftly. It arced across the view, crashing down somewhere in the trees below.

On a street somewhere down the hill, a thick, grumbling vehicle could be heard gunning the engine, Skittering on the gravel and hastily taking off up the veiled road.

'You idiot' she said, running across through the thicket to where the road stumbled upon the crest.

He raced off after her, tearing his jumper almost in two as he yanked it off the line.

The trees thinned and abated as he neared the interstate.

From the side, a hand rushed out and halted on his chest, holding him back. Natalie.

A filthy RV rattled up the road.

'Wait here.' Ruben pulled the colt from his waistband and started out. Natalie slowly pulled the rifle off her shoulder and trained it on the road ahead. Ruben traipsed, head down and steely-eyed onto the middle of the road. The vehicle ahead didn't seem to be slowing down. He stared at the woman driving.

It sped up, hammering down on him. In a final attempt he dropped his pistol and raised his hands.

It was too late, the car slammed into him. It was closer than he'd thought; alcohol does that to a man.

It felt like his body split in two.

The glass in front of him exploded in a fountain of blood. At first he thought it was his own. Then he heard the gunshots ringing in his ears. Natalie ran out to meet him. The RV met a brisk conclusion to its acceleration.

Natalie held his head under her chin. She screamed his name, howling in animal wretchedness and ire.

Rivulets of blood fissured the pale yellow frontage of the RV.

On the road in front, that's where she held him.

His forehead was broken, eyes distant. A long, gaping wound cleaved through his torso like an oozing canal. Tears watered down his blood.

Natalie hardly noticed the figure step down from the RV; it sat on its haunches, hands buried in its face.

A young boy, eight or nine, skinny but tall with bright crimson lips and thick unkempt hair the colour of oak hopped down beside the figure. Three starving dogs followed him down, heads by his heels.

He marched across in front of Natalie and Ruben. Hands stiff by his side.

Ruben looked up into his bright blue eyes. The child met his ebbing gaze.

His name was Tony.