Chapter 6

I threw myself at Gabe to keep him from being hit by the bullets. He was one step ahead of me. He had already ducked behind the bus and was trying to pull Shay away from the driver's seat. Matthew kept up the barrage of bullets for quite a while. All the thugs had dispersed and ran off, at least, I hoped most of them would. I saw some hiding behind Camus, who was hiding behind another car, alarmingly close to Matthew. He had noticed and started firing towards Camus. Mr. Camus scrambled away as he barked orders to his remaining, loyal force. I did a rough estimate and counted maybe a dozen currently, maybe three dozen a few minutes ago. That last estimate was shocking. If Camus already had that many followers, how fast would this society collapse? Surely not in a few days, right?

Some kids held pellet guns, one had picked up the fallen shotgun and was reloading it, and another was holding a bow and arrows. Seriously, where'd he get that, Big 5?

I stood up and pointed my AK at the mass of bodies. My main concern was that Matthew would get shot; already Shay had been injured, and he's probably still losing blood. The kid with the bow pointed it at me and drew an arrow. I stood up right and started walking towards him. He must've panicked; he let loose a poorly aimed arrow that sailed a few feet away from me. I started walking faster, slinging the AK behind my back and drew a combat knife from my belt. I wouldn't need a gun for what was to come. I walked through the car the kid with the bow was. I looked into his eyes and saw pure fear. I grabbed the front of his shirt and threw him against the car. The bow and arrows clattered out of his hands. I placed the knife underneath his chin and yelled out to Camus, "How much do you care about your thugs, you son of a b***h?". Matthew stopped firing, but kept his gun on the car Camus was behind.

"Put him down, b*****d!" He roared. "That's my brother!" I saw the similarities in the kid's face and Camus'. Sharp ears, pudgy cheeks, stuff like that. Except the fact that this kid was smaller, but that was the only difference. "I'm giving you till five or the midget gets it!" I laughed.

"That's not how it works, Mr. Camus," I said. "He's got you pinned, I got another man pinning your gang down, another asset even I don't know where their hiding, and I've got your brother. So I'll give you a choice: your life, your brother's, and your street gang's lives, or Hell. Come on,  I don't got time for this s**t." Another episode of Camus' head movin'. Man, he need these kinds of problems every day. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Then something really weird happened. As if boys' arms bursting aflames wasn't weird enough, as if me being able to pass through objects wasn't weird enough, as if me collecting firearms for something like this wasn't weird enough, as if me dumping all my friends at my house to "shoplift" some food (no, not dumping in that way), as if all that wasn't enough weird for me today, his skin started to change.