The man looked down at Melly, and his expression seemed to soften but it was quickly replaced by his gruff voice. “You too, stand up.” Melly stood, the tears not yet dry on her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered as she locked eyes with the man. He motioned with the gun for her to step over next to her father and she did so, never looking away. The man quickly stepped forward and patted James down, finding nothing of danger. Then he shoved the barrel of the gun into James' back and Melly gave a hiccuping sob and walked forward with her father. The three moved in silence, James' hands still on his head. It didn't take long for them to find a small dirt road with a few houses lined up along it. James recognized the sign that cheerfully said “You are now leaving Holly Glen, hope you enjoyed your stay!”, and realized that they had been walking perpendicular from the road that led to the military facility. This was the outskirts of Holly Glen, and the people that lived out here were a bit... odd. Melly stifled a sob as she stepped over the corpse of a man whose head had been bashed in by a blunt object and whose sides had been eaten away. The smell of blood was thick here, and she could see in the faint moonbeams that in some spots the dirt road was a suspicious darker stain. The man kept hurrying them along, until they finally approached a small ranch house off to it's own. “Get in. Don't try anything,” the man said. James obeyed, trying to give Melly a reassuring smile. Melly couldn't return it. She heard the door shut behind her and she began to cry softly. The man pushed her towards the couch, away from James. She heard him yell at her father to shut up and sit down, and then he felt her push gently on her shoulder so she'd sit as well. “So, if your story is true, explain to me what's going on,” the man said, waving his gun around. “Lie to me, and I'll put you out back with the others.” He gestured to the window behind them. Melly turned her head to look and out the back window she saw something burning about 12 yards out in the man's backyard. She shivered, the flickering red coals unnaturally bright in the darkness. Then she realized with a shudder that the smoldering pile was made of human bodies. James had come to this conclusion first, and spoke quickly. “As I said before, I'm the sheriff of Holly Glen. We were on our way to the military facility when our truck was hijacked by those... people. We were little more than prisoners going there. I suspect because of martial law–” “Shut up!” the man yelled suddenly, pointing his gun at James. “Give me a reason to keep you alive. More people means more food for these freaks, so give me a reason!” “Please!” Melly shouted, her voice strained in fear. She shrunk back as the man turned the gun towards her. “Don't shoot! Just let us go, I promise we won't come back, please!” The man's expression again softened when he looked at Melly. He seemed torn in shooting a girl so young. His grizzled face was a mix of emotions, and James took the chance as he leapt forward, tackling the man to the floor. The two scuffled and Melly screamed as the gun went off with a rat-a-tat, leaving a trail of holes up the couch where James had been sitting moments ago. James managed to wrestle himself on top of the man and with his bound hands, punched the man straight into the face. The man's head bounced off the wooden floor, blood spraying from his broken nose. James hit him again, using his hands like a club. The man groaned as he slipped into unconsciousness, his mouth a bloody mess from where he had bitten his own tongue. James turned to look at Melly and saw her crouched on the couch in terror. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, knowing he had taken a giant risk with her life.
Haha I had to catch up on GaW so I released this part there first. That's the first time I've done that
Melly's eyes were wide and she couldn't move from where she was, frozen in shock and terror. James picked up the gun, setting it on a nearby table. Then he bent down and from practiced habit, rifled into the man's pocket and pulled out a wallet. Even in times of crisis, people were slave to routine so James flipped through it until he found the ID card. It read “Mackie Messer”. A soft whimper made him look up and he saw Melly was crying into her hands. “Melly,” he said, but then stopped. “I'm tired dad,” Melly said through her tears. “I'm so tired.” James stood, dropping the wallet to the floor. He went to Melly and lifted her to her feet. Melly looked up at him and he felt sorrow for her pitiful state. He turned to grab the gun that was on the counter and moved away into an adjacent hallway. Melly followed him like a child, grabbing at his jacket. The lights were all off, which made James' search slower, but at last he found the bathroom. The bathroom was in a shabby state but was better than anything he could have hoped for at this point. James flipped on the light, not surprised to see that it didn't work here either. He went to the tub and turned the faucet. Thankfully, water poured out. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't frigid either. “Take a shower, and I'll let you lie down for a bit, okay Melly?” James said, heading for the door. Melly nodded slowly and closed the door behind him. It took her a moment to realize that she'd actually have a shower before she quickly divested herself of her sticky clothing. Flipping the water to the shower, she shivered as she felt the water run down her back and over her face. Thoroughly drenched, she began scrubbing her body with her nails, desperate to get the dirt, blood and grime off of her. Her black locks fell into her eyes as she stood, the minutes passing by as she frantically rubbed at her skin until it was red and raw. There wasn't a window in the bathroom so the darkness felt like it was closing in on her as she stood under the spray. Every creak of the house made her jump, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to relax again. The memories of Natalie, Gina and that red-headed girl who attacked her kept playing in her mind. The look on the face of the military man when they had ran from him, leaving the teacher's behind. Her mother's jeep sitting in the middle of nowhere, soaked in blood. She gripped onto her head, slumping to the floor of the tub. The water continued it's relentless pounding across her back, the heavy pressure almost painful. At long last she heard a tentative knock on the door, and looked up. James' deep voice came through the thick wooden door “Are you okay, Melly?” “Y-Yes,” Melly responded, surprised her teeth were chattering. The water had long gone cold and as she stood, she nearly fell over from the cramps in her legs from holding such an awkward position. She felt around in the pitch dark bathroom, finding a towel. She didn't even care what was on it as she dabbed the water droplets from her body. Even though it was almost summer, the air in the house seemed freezing as she leaned over to turn off the water. She reached around for her clothing, bumping her knee against the toilet and wincing. James knocked on the door again. “Melly, I found some clothes,” he said, cracking the door open and dropping the clothes on the floor before shutting it again. Melly had managed to pull her underthings on and she groped along the floor until she found the jeans and shirt. She was surprised to feel it slide over her body and conform to her shape easily. As she stepped out of the bathroom she realized she was wearing a graphic t-shirt and somewhat fashionable jeans made for a teenage girl. “Where did you find these?” Melly asked, surprised. “They were in one of the bedrooms,” James said, surprised himself. “Feel better?” Melly nodded. The clothing was a weird find, seeing as she hadn't seen any other humans in the house besides the unconscious man in the foyer. Was this even that guy's house? She let her father lead her to the back and saw a small bed in one of the back bedrooms. “Lay down,” James said. “I'll be out there if you need me.” Before Melly could say anything, James had walked away down the hallway. As he retreated she saw him limping slightly. Too exhausted to think any more on it, she fell onto the bed and was asleep in mere moments.
James walked into the foyer and stared down at the man who was now bound with thick twine he had found in one of the kitchen drawers. He sat down on the nearby couch which sagged under his weight, proving how much it had been used in the past. His hands were tight on the gun, even though he expected no quick movements with the handcuffs still restricting his movements. A few hours passed and James felt himself drifting in and out of unconsciousness. He was exhausted from the entire day, and his side still ached from the wound the metal bat had inflicted earlier in that horrid house. He lifted his shirt as best he could manage, and saw the bruise had grown a dark purple. Poking it with a finger he hissed in pain. James let his shirt fall back down underneath his jacket. His wrists were chafing from the handcuffs. The metal had cut into his skin from the harsh recoil of the gun, and blood had now dried beneath them, making them itchy as well as painful. He looked over the slight bulge of his belly. Was it too late for him to wish he had done more cardio? A slight movement from the corner of his eye made him sit up. Getting up, he knelt on the floor, approaching the bound man cautiously. James prodded him roughly with the butt of the gun, seeing the man shift slightly. It didn't take the man long to realize his predicament, sputtering and yanking futilely at his arms. James had a nasty look on his face that didn't suit his normally gentle disposition. He pointed the gun into the mans' face. “Give me a reason to keep you alive. You know, more people means more reasons for those guys to come.” The man visibly began to sweat as he gaped, his mouth opening and shutting without a sound. “Don't shoot me, okay? I'm sorry! You know how it is at this point, everyone needs to look out for themselves.” James growled and positioned the gun awkwardly so he could reach the trigger, resting the stock on his leg. “No reason to point a gun at my daughter!” The man struggled from his position, belly on the floor and arms and legs hogtied behind his back. “I said I'm sorry, look, I can help you!” James slipped his finger over the trigger. The man began sweating more. “Stop, stop! I can get those handcuffs off of you,” he said. James narrowed his eyes. “How do you figure?” “It... It's my past, I did some bad things but learned some tricks. I can get them off of you! Just let me go on my way,” the man begged, entirely ticked off at his position. James set the gun down. “How do I know I can trust you?” “Get the girl, she can watch me. I'll do hers too, just promise to let me go.” James looked back towards the bedrooms. “She's sleeping right now. I have some more questions for you anyway. Who's house is this?” “Mine,” the man said. James looked unconvinced. “I swear it's mine,” the man said. “Your name's Mackie, right?” James asked. “Yes,” the man said his eyes opening in surprise until he realized what James had done. “You son of a...” he cursed, writhing over the ground like some kind of snake. “Why are there women's clothes in here?” James asked, picking up the gun again and pointing it at Mackie. Mackie's eyes dulled and he stopped his frantic movements. He didn't respond, even when James asked him again. He stubbornly pursed his lips when James prodded him with the gun. At last when James hit him over the head with the butt of the gun, he gave a shout and responded. “It's my daughter's!” he shouted, cursing in a way that even James hadn't heard before in all his years on the police force. James was still suspicious. “Where is she?” Mackie grew silent again. Despite James' efforts to get him to speak, Mackie refused to open his mouth again. At last, exasperated, James stood and went to the kitchen where he peered out the small window. The front yard was still clear from what he could see. It was well into the night now, probably even early morning at this point. James weighed his options. He needed the handcuffs off, but was the risk worth it? He had already risked Melly's life before and he didn't want to do that again. The look on her face was enough to make him feel ashamed that he had even taken the chance, regardless of the fact that it had paid off. He strode back over to the man. “You'll undo my daughter's handcuffs first, and I'll have this gun in your guts while you do it,” James said at last. “Try anything and I swear I will kill you.”
..... .... ...yes... Right now he is... Might change a little but to the core he has some *** qualities. Feel free to place your vote in the sign ups forum to decide which part is updated next. thanks
Melly woke, her body twisted in the sheets. She had been having nightmares of watching Gina die over and over, by her hand. It had morphed into a grotesque image of Gina, laughing with the bullet hole gaping open like a mouth, snapping as if to eat her up. “No!” she shouted, sitting straight up. Stumbling from the bed, she fell to the floor her legs caught up in the blanket. She managed to pull herself to the doorknob and opened it, flopping into the hallway. She didn't recognize where she was, yet she groped in the darkness, knowing her dad would be at the end of the hallway. Sure enough when she managed to clumsily crawl to the living area she saw her father on the couch. “Melly, come here,” James said, his voice tense. Melly obeyed, managing to extract herself from the sheets. The man from before looked up at her sullenly, his arms undone but the rifle pressed into his stomach, firm enough to indent into his clothing. His throat caught at the sight of Melly in her new outfit. His expression ranged from confused, to angry, to despairing. “Sit,” James commanded. “This is Mackie. Now, put your hands out, he's going to get you free.” Melly sat in front of the man, and noticed for the first time some metal tools lying next to the couch. With a rough shove from the gun, the man picked up a long metal piece and a slightly shorter and thicker metal piece. He wedged one side of the thicker piece into the small lock on Melly's handcuffs and began manipulating the other with deft practiced precision. “I'd like to know about this history of yours,” James said, prodding Mackie with the gun again. Mackie snarled, but continued his work, choosing a different pick this time. He continued to work, sweat beading on his forehead. Melly looked at him closely, able to study him now that he wasn't in the complete darkness. The faint light that shone in from the small windows of the ranch were not adequate, and the man seemed to be cursing in a long string of foreign languages. Mackie picked up a flashlight from the ground, the tiny light barely making a difference in the dark. He wedged the small light between his teeth and went back to work, raking the pick back and forth. Another string of curses erupted from his mouth and the flashlight fell. “What's the problem?” James asked, nervous. Mackie looked up at him dolefully. “It's definitely military-grade. Much more difficult than I'm used to. Just give me time.” James was agitated. Mackie went back to work, again in the light from the windows. James didn't know how much time they had. Once dawn broke, he was afraid that the house would be a likely place for them to gather. While in the dark they were somewhat hidden, it was a priority for them to get moving before light. Half an hour passed, and Mackie continued to play with the tumblers, a concentrated look on his face. Melly looked at the lines in the man's face and realized that he was probably older than her father, though not by much. He had worn hands, that looked incredibly callused and rugged. The stubble over his chin was thick and beginning to gray in spots. Despite the cunning gleam in his eye, Melly could easily imagine him as someone's dad. Another half hour passed and James was thoroughly frustrated. At last Mackie made a noise of joy and with a loud jangling, the handcuffs fell from Melly's wrists. She rubbed her wrists and gave a sigh of relief. She smiled up at her dad. “Take the gun Melly, and if he makes any move to escape you shoot him, understand?” James said, his tone a little snappish from lack of sleep. Melly looked down at Mackie who was clearly unhappy. She took the gun and nodded. The gun was heavier than she had expected, but she pointed it at Mackie as the man turned to work on James' handcuffs. Another twenty minutes passed as Mackie toiled over the handcuffs, when a shattering noise made all three of them look up with a start. The noise had definitely been a glass pane from one of the rooms in the back of the house. Melly looked at her father with worry, and James clanked his wrists as an indication for Mackie to hurry up with his task. Mackie hunched over and began working the tumblers with his pick again, his fingers sore from the tedious work. “Hurry,” James said, his wrists aching even more now that he was so close to being free. Melly felt a shiver going through her body as she heard groaning and thumps coming from the room in the back. Mackie's fingers kept slipping on the metal tools, slick now with his sweat. He couldn't concentrate with the screaming in the back of his mind that was telling him to screw all of it and take his chances running. He didn't want to die by their hands. He had seen it first hand, and he would never go down that way. Sparing a glance up, he saw Melly was distracted and looking away at the noises. He looked back down at the man's wrists whom he was trying to free. His eyes darted to the front door. It was only a few feet away. The girl didn't seem experienced with a gun. Most likely she'd be unable to shoot, and if she did, she wouldn't be accurate. His fingers twitched, still playing with the tumblers, but he no longer was concentrating on that. Sliding one hand down to the floor as if to grab another pick, neither James nor Melly expected his next move. With a lightning quick flick of his wrist, he flung one of them at James, who instinctively dodged backwards. Melly turned towards him, seeing the movement. Mackie sprung from his crouched position and dove towards the front door. Within seconds he had closed the gap between the door and him, flinging it open and racing out into the darkness. James swore violently as he stood up, but it was too late. Two men and a woman stumbled awkwardly from the hallway, their blood dripping on the floor. Their eyes were red and stared hungrily at Melly and James.