It made contact with Jesse’s nose as Frank spun around. They shouldn’t be fighting, especially not out in the open, but that young prick had something coming to him.
“What the fuck you do that for?” Jesse whined as the blood poured from his nose. He stood in front of Frank, his hands held up in front of his face in the classic pugilist stance.
“You know why you stupid little shit.”
“Are you seriously mad about that? It’s not my fault she went out and didn’t come back. I didn’t put her on the recon team Frank.”
Marta, Frank’s wife, had been part of the recon team who’d been attacked yesterday by another group of survivors. Without gear and a lot of ground to cover before dark, they hadn’t stood much of a chance in the confines of the city. Open territory would have been one thing, but with hardly any exits and too many places for the undead to hide, the city was a deathtrap.
Today, Frank had taken a small group into LA to look for his wife and the rest of the team. The look on his face said it all by the time they’d gotten back with Harry, the lone survivor.
“She wasn’t supposed to be out there. It wasn’t her team – it was yours. You didn’t go so she ended up having to run back to back missions. If that’s not your fault, I don’t know what is.” Frank reinforced his anger and blame with another well-aimed crack of his elbow, splitting the skin below Jesse’s left eye.
“You can keep hitting me man, but that’s not going to bring her back.”
“I know, but it sure as hell will make me feel better!”
All Rights Reserved © 2013 Julianne Snow
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