Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

They disappeared after a few seconds of whispering and gesturing.
    I wished more than anything I could tell Peter I was coming for him. I sent him telepathic messages, letting him know that he was never going to be a meal or dog’s chew toy as long as I had breath left in my body.
    What seemed like ages later, I saw a movement over on the other side of the yard. I tiptoed over the top of the wall, balancing as if on a beam, since I no longer had any branches to hang onto. Trip was sneaking across the lawn, going towards the back of the pool house.
    I ran back to the tree and climbed down, dropping to the ground when I was still about five feet up and accidentally biting my tongue as I landed on my feet. I could taste the salty blood in my mouth, but ignored it and its accompanying stinging pain. It had the weird side effect of keeping my brain anchored in reality, to feel the hurt in such a weird place. I stayed hidden behind the tree trunk that was effectively keeping me out of the view of anyone near the back door of the house. Anyone in the pool house could have easily seen me, but the glass door was so black with sunscreening tint I couldn’t see into it. There could have been just two or a hundred kids in there and I’d never know.
    Trip motioned for me to join him. I peeked out from behind the tree towards the house, waiting for a few seconds, taking the precious time to scan all the windows and the several doors of glass that lined the entire back end of the house. Luckily the tinting there was only light and I could see inside to the interior of the house. As soon as I was sure there was no one there, I ran. I was next to Trip’s side in an instant, breathing heavily, but not so much from the run as the stress that was getting me up to panic level ten very quickly. It crossed my mind that battles and wars were for stronger people than me.
    “Hey,” he whispered. “Where’s Peter?”
    “In this building,” I said, gesturing to the wall we were hiding behind. “This is the pool house. They call it the meat locker.”
    “I heard. I’m gonna destroy this place and the assholes who live in it.”
    “Be my guest. But let’s get the kids out first.”
    “I wish we’d brought the whole damn suitcase.”
    I knew exactly what he was talking about, and right now, I didn’t really disagree. But I had to focus on the important stuff and not dreaming of blowing them to smithereens.
    “They’re eating breakfast and having a meeting right now. We need to get in there before they leave, otherwise we lose the element of surprise. They have spies that are going to rat us out.”
    “Fohi went to get the truck. He’s going to park it a couple blocks away and keep the engine running. All we gotta do is get there.”
    “And what about the canners?”
    “As soon as you and I get these kids out, we’re going in. You’re welcome to join us or not. It’s up to you.”
    I looked in his eyes and didn’t see any condemnation there at all. I truly believed in that moment that he wouldn’t hold it against me if I ran away back to the swamp and left them to the killing of canners.
    “What kind of girl do you take me for?” I asked, acting offended.
    He gave me a half smile. “An American white girl.”
    “Yeah, well, this girl went American white girl all over your ass one time, if I remember correctly; and you didn’t do so well, either.”
    “Yeah well,” he said, looking around the corner of the pool house towards the back door, “I was having an off day. You wouldn’t get the drop on me again.” He turned back and gave me a truly devilish smile this time. He was almost beautiful with it.
    “Challenge accepted. For another time. We’ve got some canners to waste first.”
    “Right. I’m going to go get that door open,” he said, before disappearing around the corner.
    ***
    I heard chains rattling and decided I was better off standing by Trip’s side helping him, rather than watching out for canners from behind the shelter of the building. I got there in seconds and immediately saw the frustration on his face.
    “What’s wrong?” I whispered.
    “These chains have a key lock on them!”
    A tapping came at the glass, and the pressed flesh of a finger was visible through the tinted film on the surface. It was pointing to our right.
    I looked over and saw a nail with a dirty string hanging from it. At the end of the string was a small key.
    I grabbed it and shoved it into the lock while Trip