30 Minute Plan - 18

Cargill jumped off him just as fast as he'd jumped on, coughing and clutching at his throat. He disappeared into the pack and several ziggies glared at him as they began to move. Danton had no clue what had just happened. He stood and collected his other machete, watching the pack leave.

 

He hoped it was the last time he saw his brother.

 

Danton didn't know what he was going to do, where he was going to go. He turned to head in the other direction.

 

And saw the little girl standing thirty feet away in a nest of remnants of burned out cars in a semi-circle.

 

He knew she would run so he didn't, but he kept walking in her direction, his eyes darting left and right in case she was setting up an ambush. Whatever she was, he wanted to take her head off before whoever she was with got to him.

 

There was something metallic and sour on his tongue. He spat but it was still there. Danton rolled his tongue around his mouth, the distance closing between him and the girl. His gums were tender.

 

When they were ten feet apart the girl started walking to him. They were five feet apart when she dipped behind a twisted rusty steel door. Danton followed, gripping the handle of his machete. It was tight in the cabin of the half-crushed mini-van and he saw her slipping out of the rear window. He pushed his way to the back and saw he couldn't exit the way she did so he kicked the door with both feet until it fell off its hinges.

 

She skittered over the roof of another car. There wasn't that much clearance as another car rested on top of it. No way was Danton fitting in there, but he squeezed behind the rear of the car where its bumper was melted to another. He was in a narrow corridor of skeletal automotive remains and could see her through holes in the melted, flaked metal wall, separating them.

 

She twirled around with her hands over her head and then placed her palms on the wall where he was. She was toying with him. Was this how she killed her prey?

 

Danton saw a thin slit in the wall and punched his machete through. She gasped, but easily slipped around it before returning to her mock-ballet dancing. Her jerked his machete back, his head feeling thick and swimmy. Maybe that poison was working on him after all.