Gilbert kept his eyes focused on the stretch of cement in front of the van. Yet he couldn't help to keep his eyes from flitting from the road, to the man sitting next to him. To Matthew, he glanced over and had the wind knocked out of him when he saw violet staring back at him.
He also couldn't keep remembering what happened, Arthur had been infected. He'd been infected the entire time probably. Gilbert gripped the steering wheel. Anger gripped him, anger began coursing through his vision. He had put them all in danger of becoming like 'them' as well.
"He wasn't infected from the beginning." Gilbert jumped at the sound of a quiet cold voice resounding from beside him. He glanced over temporarily to Matthew. Despite him still driving he kept staring at the man. The outside world was racing by somehow highlighting his features. His nose was obviously broken at one point, violet orbs staring straight ahead, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. His hair fell across his cheek in short flowing strawberry blonde hair. The blush crept up and took control of his cheeks quicker than he thought it would
"What do you mean?" he heard a familiar French accent ask. Only this wasn't the lively happy haughty accent he knew. This accent was devoid of emotion, it reflected possibly everything Francis felt inside. He sounded hurt, angry, and depressed. Gilbert glanced back at him in the mirror, short moment of eye contact, and an apologetic smile from the albino.
"The way he was acting when I got here," began Matthew, "he was too far lost in the infection. He started rejecting food didn't he?" Gilbert glanced over to Matthew who staring out the windshield like it had personally offended him. The car fell silent as it all dawned on them; Arthur had been rejecting food for the past couple of days. They all thought he just had a temporary illness. No, that was wrong, deep down they all knew on some subconscious level. None of them wanted to voice the truth, knowing that if correct. Francis' heart would break in two.
"Yes. He did start to reject food. How was that a sign of the infection?" asked Gilbert. His question rang through the car, all curious
"Because by then his stomach acids would've started to eat his organs, not to mention the craving for human flesh would no doubt have started to take control by then. It was also the way he was acting. He seemed sleepy, and his eyes were glazed over. Also his pupils were dilated like he was high or something. It's another sign." Matthew stated all of this as if it was common knowledge.
"How the hell do you know so fucking much?" came the peeped question from the back of the van. Matthew glared into the review mirror at Lovino, who shrank back in response.
"I'll tell you some other time." Matthew had evidently decided that he'd spent enough time on the subject.
In the distant Gilbert could see a object growing closer, taking shape. When they were close enough he made the shape out as a-
"A gas station, good we can stop there and stock up on food supplies and the like." Matthew said blandly. As gilbert slowed down, Matthew pulled out his hockey stick and the gun he'd used to shoot Arthur. He heard the click as guns began to get loaded in the back.
"Alright Gilbert, I want you to slow down enough for us get to out. You'll need to fill up on gas, so I want at least one of you to stay here and keep a look out. Francis, Lovino you come with me. Romano I want you to stay here." Matthew unleashed these orders so quickly, it was clear he was used to this sort of thing.
"And who the fuck died and put you in charge?" the insult came hurling with forced from the back seat of the van. Gilbert was impressed the Italian had enough courage to say that to Matthew after the death glare he'd gotten. Matthew simply looked back in the van at the Italian, his violet eyes flashing a warning.
"Arthur." The entire van went uncomfortably silent at that. No one spoke for a long time; they all just finished getting ready for the impending sound of shots that were bound to happen.
They got closer to the gas station and the tension in the car grew higher. Gilbert slowed down without parking, he watched as a red hoodie gracefully flew out of the van in the direction of the convenience part of the gas station. Then glanced back as French locks dove out of the car, and an Italian curl bounced out with gun at the ready. Gilbert didn't really like Lovino, but he had to admit the guy was a good shot.
"So Gil~ let's get that gas huh?" the Spanish accent rang through the van. Reminding Gilbert of what he was to do.
"Right." Gilbert pulled the car so it was next to the gas pump; he turned it off knowing the engine would cancel out the approach of one of 'them'. With his gun at the ready the silverette got out and began to fill the tank of the van. They were there for ten minutes, and gilbert had managed to fill up not only the tank, but also the multiple plastic gas holders they'd managed to get their hands on.
He was seated back in the driver's seat, the engine running, waiting for the trio that went in to finally come out. He was nervous because Antonio was nervous, that was it. He wasn't at all worried for the violet eyed man they'd saved.
When gunshots rang out from the store, both in the car jumped. They glanced at each other for exactly one second before they heard the voice of Lovino Vargas shouting at them to open the van door.
"OPEN THE FUCKING VAN DOOR YOU BASTARDS! LET'S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" another gunshot, the sliding of the metal door, and the panting of an Italian trying to catch his breath, the rustling of dozens of plastic bags. Then the giant banging noises as more gunshots were fired in the store, something shouted at them in French, and more rustling of plastic bags. Finally the sound of another pair of footsteps as Matthew came strolling out of the store.
"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING WALKING! LETS GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE IT GETS US!" the shout rang out from the smaller man's lungs. It didn't seem to register with the strolling man. His hands were casually in his hoodies pockets, and at least another two dozen hung on his arms. His hockey stick slung casually on his shoulder. A true feat of familiarity with the object and talent, Gilbert was marveling at this, when he heard it.
The low moan that said hunger for flesh, hunger for what was. He watched in horror as one of 'them' cam lumbering out from the store. An eyeball hanging out of its socket, skin a pale blue from the ceasing of blood flow and warmth, clothes stained with dried blood and- gilbert almost hurled when he saw what else 'Its' clothes were stained with. Little flecks of flesh, he was sure some of it was organs.
Everyone now began to desperately shout at him to go faster. It was all a mixture of shouts, and even languages. It was almost as unintelligible as 'their' moans, than gilbert saw it reach out missing Matthew by inches. His eyes went wide and he shouted, "BEHIND YOU!"
Matthew's eye's visibly darkened into something cold and cruel. He flung all the bags into the van, expertly hitting the opposite inside wall of the van, before spinning around grabbing his hockey stick in both hands in the process. He then proceeded to sweep 'It' from under itself, he cringed silently when he heard the thump of back on cement. He almost lost what little food he had in his stomach when he heard the crack as Matthews hockey stick came down on 'Its' knee caps, breaking 'Its' legs, then Matthew turned one more time before turning back and breaking 'Its' neck with the hockey stick.
The moaning ceased, and all was silent. Matthew began to casually stroll back to the van once again, his violet orbs showing no emotion. Matthew climbed into the van, not looking at anyone but Francis. Once the van door was closed, Matthew moved. He lunged forward and grabbed Francis by the front of his shirt. Anger flashing across every feature, his voice came out as a hiss when he spoke. It was menacing, cruel, and above all else angry.
"You could've gotten us killed, you could've gotten us infected." Matthew's eyes bore into Francis'. Francis gulped before voicing his own depressed opinion.
"What's the point? What's the point in surviving if rosbif isn't here to survive with me?" the Frenchmen froze the car at the voicing of his point of view. There was only a split second in which Gilbert saw Matthew's brow furrow further.
Matthew threw his hand back, brought it back crashing down upon Francis' cheek. The sound seemed to resonate around the van, as the seat soaked it in, and the roof let it air out of the van. Then the hissing voice was back, except this was even worse, it was calm.
"You think you're the only suffering? Well let me tell you, I've seen women get infected because their child was and they wouldn't let them go. I've seen men, strong men collapse and turn in front of me because they were protecting their family. I've seen people dye and come back a lot more than you have. So don't give me the self-pity act for a second," Matthew looked around the van before continuing "You don't have the luxury of it either, we need to keep to moving. You can either try and move on and survive for Arthur, or we can leave you here out in the open. With no weapons, and we can survive and continue on. Which is it?" when Francis didn't respond Matthew looked him up and down before commenting in the same tone.
"You've got skinny legs even though they are long. Let's hope you have enough stamina to run from 'them'" Francis gulped before shaking his head no. gilbert sighed a breath of relief that they wouldn't have to leave one of his best friends behind. Matthew nodded before climbing to the passenger seat, hockey stick still tucked close to his body.
Gilbert stole one stare at his magnificent profile before starting the engine and driving away from the gas station.