He handed me a burger and gave me a drink from his Hi-C. As I nestled into my spot in the trash bin, he began to roll the cart. I had an unstoppable desire to eat something, and McDonald's was so perfect for that situation. Keeping my meal quiet was a pain, though. We passed some guards, who completely ignored us, and we got to the exit.
"Jack," Peter whispered my name. "There's a checkpoint up ahead. If anything goes wrong, we're going to run for it. They have guns, and it's a really terrible idea." He smiled devilishly at me.
Right then was the moment I figured out what kind of person Peter was: the type that gets everyone killed. I was weak, and still hungry and thirsty... not in fighting condition yet. But my anger for the guards breaking the forty second rule pissed me off though. The car havoc was a game for me, and they cheated.
I took off my left shoe. In my emergency pocket, there was a razor, some oxycontin, superglue, and a thin lock picking set. Slipping out the razor, I prepared myself for the worst. Slowing down at the guards, my ears perked.
"Hey Pete! How you doin' today, fatty?"
"Goin' to get more McDonald's?"
"Hey, why you even leaving at all, man? Don't you live here?"
There was laughter from the three guards.
I heard Peter's breathing get heavy. "Enough of your shit, guys. No fucking around, alright?! I'm just goin' to my... uh... my Mom's house."
The guards started laughing even harder.
"You're a fucking loser, you know that!"
"All you got there is a bunch of trash!"
Peter had enough. He roared in fury, and I took that as a cue to get out of the bin. I peeked my head up, and one of the guards saw me. The other guards were getting pummeled by brutal punches from Peter. The guard that saw me pulled a gun, and I ducked. BANG!
Time slowed down when the bullet grazed my head. My right eye cringed, and I felt missing skin where my ear should have been. Jumping out of the bin, I started sprinting, blood leaking from my head.
"Jack," Peter whispered my name. "There's a checkpoint up ahead. If anything goes wrong, we're going to run for it. They have guns, and it's a really terrible idea." He smiled devilishly at me.
Right then was the moment I figured out what kind of person Peter was: the type that gets everyone killed. I was weak, and still hungry and thirsty... not in fighting condition yet. But my anger for the guards breaking the forty second rule pissed me off though. The car havoc was a game for me, and they cheated.
I took off my left shoe. In my emergency pocket, there was a razor, some oxycontin, superglue, and a thin lock picking set. Slipping out the razor, I prepared myself for the worst. Slowing down at the guards, my ears perked.
"Hey Pete! How you doin' today, fatty?"
"Goin' to get more McDonald's?"
"Hey, why you even leaving at all, man? Don't you live here?"
There was laughter from the three guards.
I heard Peter's breathing get heavy. "Enough of your shit, guys. No fucking around, alright?! I'm just goin' to my... uh... my Mom's house."
The guards started laughing even harder.
"You're a fucking loser, you know that!"
"All you got there is a bunch of trash!"
Peter had enough. He roared in fury, and I took that as a cue to get out of the bin. I peeked my head up, and one of the guards saw me. The other guards were getting pummeled by brutal punches from Peter. The guard that saw me pulled a gun, and I ducked. BANG!
Time slowed down when the bullet grazed my head. My right eye cringed, and I felt missing skin where my ear should have been. Jumping out of the bin, I started sprinting, blood leaking from my head.
