BitterBlue - 2

Chappie Three

"When you said we we're sneaking onto a coach. I assumed you meant inside the main part, not where the bags go." I hiss from behind a car, watching a line of people dump suitcases under the coach into a boot,

"Well you know what they say about assuming, Little one?" Flynn grins at me,

"No I don't. Who's they?" I frown,

"Assuming, makes an ass out of you and me." He grabs my hand and pulls me quickly round the side of bus,

"Oh my god, there's no room." I shriek as Flynn pushes me in with an impossible strength,

"Find room, and hide quickly!" He tumbles in after me, diving over cases and stepping on bags. A crunch from one of them tells me someone won't be too happy when they receive their belongings. The voice of the driver echoes out faintly and I hastily throw bags to cover myself,

"There must have been an easier way to..."

"Shh!" Flynn hisses. I fall into an uneasy silence as slowly a door slams and we're plunged into darkness,

"Brilliant." I say, "How long do we have to stay inside here for?"

"Only five hours or so." Flynn says cheerfully,

"Only. I mean what if I need the toilet?" As soon as I have the thought my bladder twinges. Brillant. Well done brain! Thank you!

"I'm sure we can find a bottle or something. Now make yourself useful and start searching the bags."

"Huh?"

"For stuff. I don't know how many times I have to tell you. We are broke. I can't use my bank cards."

"You mean we're stealing?" I say frowning,

"No. We're surviving." A light sparks up from the torch of his phone, making his face look ghostly white in the darkness,

"This isn't right." I mutter as I unzip a suitcase biting my lip. I feel bad, terrible that I am looking through someone's items. Through personal belongings that,

"I found alcohol!" Flynn swings a large bottle of clear liquid around from a glass bottle. He takes a long swing and smacks his lips, "This isn't going to be a bad journey." He hands the vodka towards me. My gut clenches with indecision,

"Clay wouldn't approve." I mutter. A dark look clouds his face for the moment,

"Well, my brother isn't here right now is he?" He says softly.

I don't want you.

I don't want you.

I don't want you.

The words drum in my head like a beat that never ends. He said he'd never leave me and now he's gone,

"Pass it over." I grunt as the coach rumbles to life.

____

"Look at this! These pants are huge!" Flynn flings a women's pair of knickers at me and I shuffle away in disgust,

"Yuck! Other women's pants do not turn me on Flynn!" I grunt, "They're not pants anyway, it's a skirt." I chuckle,

"But its tiny."

"Oh I found chocolate and some money!" I say. Funny what enough alcohol can do. Like help you get over the fact you're stealing people's things and begin to enjoy being noisy. Also how it can fade away all your problems and make you numb.

Short term solution.

"Put it in the 'it's ours rucksack.'" Flynn says. He looks at me with those light blue eyes. So unlike Clay, he's meant to be the older brother, the responsible one, the serious one,

"What do we do when we get to my house? If there's even a house there anymore." I ask with a frown pulling my gaze away from him,

"We'll sort it out as we go. We have a list of things to do and the first is gather supplies, what comes after that is more complicated." He grunts,

"Like?" I press needing more information,

"Like this briefcase my Dad is hell bent on finding and why he thought you're father knew where it was. Then we find him, then we find Clay."

"And what if your sister is truly alive?"

"She isn't. I saw her body. I watched her die. She's dead." His voice is solid cold. I decide not to press the matter,

"And if we can't find this Case? Or your Dad? What if Clay truly meant what he said?" I bite my lip and carry on rummaging in the bags, not really looking anymore. Flynn shuffles closer to me, so our bodies almost touch. He reaches out a hand and tilts my face to look at him,

"He didn't mean it." Flynn's words are soft and gentle. I take a moment of comfort in his touch, "I know my brother, he's trying to be a hero."

"But what if..."

"Little One! Enough with the what ifs. I tell you what, I'll make a promise." He chuckles, "If everything goes to s**t and we can't figure this out, we'll get some cash and head to the hottest place on this planet. We'll grab some surf boards and live out the rest of the days by a beach. How about it?" I know he's joking, trying to lighten my dark mood,

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." I pull away from him as he sighs softly, "We should be almost there by now." I say changing the subject, just as the coach grumbles to a stop,

"We should have another hour at least, maybe they've stopped for a break." Flynn mutters, "Grab the bag just in case." A faint echo of shouts echo out from outside the coach,

"That doesn't sound good." I say softly. I stare at him in the soft light that shines from his phone. He's counting the bullets I his gun,

"I have three left." He blinks up at me, worry in his eyes for a moment, "Hopefully we can just avoid them. How did they find us so quickly?" The crunch of the boot opening has me darting behind the bags again. Heart thundering in chest, the alcohol makes me a little sluggish and for the first time I realise that maybe Clay was on to something with his all 'don't drink' attitude,

"See there's no one here!" A scared voice rings out,

"Well, I don't believe that for a moment." It's a Gorilla, peering into the darkness. My breath comes out loud and uneven, I'm almost certain that even if he can't see us, he can most defiantly hear me,

"Get the bags out!"

Shit.

Three bullets. Flynn has three bullets and I can guarantee that there's at least five of them waiting for us.

"Get ready to run." Flynn breathes in my ear. The bags are being thrown out of the boot in haste, "Three, two..." One of the rucksacks covering my legs is pulled away, "...One! Run!"

And here we go...