Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Living the Life ❯ Yellow Teeth ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Smortz

Disclaimer: This story belongs to Smortz. Characters and plot created by me as well

Quinn had been diagnosed with bad stress and anxiety attacks since she was nine years old. It'd been caused by pent up emotions, acting out physically instead of emotionally.

When she was ten she had fainted and forgotten how to breathe, that had been when her dad took her in to get checked out.

The cause of her attacks is when they're not handled, or if she doesn't have any meds to calm her down immediately.

This was one of those cases.

They were jogging around the gymnasium when she spotted the two vehicles they'd wanted. The loud beating on the door hadn't attracted any of them. She peered around the corner of the gymnasium seeing the paramedic hitting his bloodied fist against the door.

“Do you think he's one?” Mike asked.

She snorted, “Yea, if he was still alive he'd know how to open the door.”

Mike chuckled at that and she began to walk towards it, her gun aimed straight for him as she climbed into the open driver door. The paramedic's eyes haunted her, the reddish black they took on before she pulled the trigger and his blood splattered against the back. She climbed back out.

“Come on we can use the motorcycle,” she whispered.

“How?”

“It's faster than this truck, if we need a back up, this is it,” she whispered as she opened up the trunk. The body fell on top of her as she pushed it off to the ground and hopped in. There was an orange bag under a metal rack, and she emptied its contents of machines that were unnecessary. Shoving gauze, painkillers and syringes into it she pushed the metal rack out of the truck and waved to Mike. “Roll it over.”

He did as was told before Branson and Alex helped lift it with her to get it into the trunk of the ambulance. “Get in,” she ordered to Izzie before jumping out. “Mike I want you in the back with them,” she whispered and he nodded. “Branson you get shotgun,” she told him.

“You're driving?”

“You don't have a license,” she lectured, muttering to herself, “I want the gun that cop has.”

“What? We're fine,” he assured her. She glared at him, “Pull open the door and when the cop comes out slam it closed okay?”

Mike sighed and nodded as he went to the side of the door, “Ready?”

She nodded taking a deep breath as he pulled the door open to cover him.

They were both happy when the cop was the first to saunter out mindlessly, and she couldn't help the laugh. “For fuck sake, this isn't like the video games, this is like Romero's Night of the Living Dead, they're so slow,” she got out around her laughs as the bullet ripped into the helmet and head.

“You're a lot more morbid then I remember,” Mike mumbled and she cringed at the memory she had of him.

“Surprise,” she grumbled as she stole the radio, baton and guns with ammo off the cop's belt. She smiled when she found Branson in the passenger seat. “Go!” Mike hollered from the back and she pressed down on the acceleration pedal.

“Okay,” she whispered, to herself as she cracked her neck, “Mike you're going to get out and hit the code so I don't have to leave the truck.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but didn't.

She got onto the road around the buildings but cursed when she saw the gate. “Shit!”

A black compact car was sitting in front of the gate, its windshield cracked. The car effectively blocked the gate from opening. “Push it out of the way,” Branson suggested.

“Risk damaging this truck?” She asked in disbelief.

“Back up, get momentum,” he explained and she thought about it as she waited for Mike to punch in the numbers. When she heard the truck's door click shut she reversed to almost hitting the building.

The accelerator pedal hit the floor. She almost flew forward at the impact of the black car as she turned left to scrape across the wall to get back on to the street.

Her phone rang and she put it on speaker. “Hey?”

“Where are you, Quinn?” Ryan asked immediately into the phone. “Are you okay? Safe at school?”

Mike chuckled before peaking his head through. “Ry, your mama here saved all of our butts, came in like the fucking dude from Hitman, now we're strolling around in an ambulance.”

“What?!” Ryan shouted in the phone. “Hitman-like? That can't be Quinn.”

Said girl glared at the phone before rolling her eyes. “Where are you?”

“Local fair, ticket sales booth, on the roof, they're fucking everywhere,” he murmured, “So mama, pick me up?” He asked mockingly.

“I don't know if I'm hitman enough to do that…” She trailed off even though she had already begun towards the local fair a couple streets by her house.

“Quinn, don't talk like that when I have zombies trying to eat me,” he warned and she chuckled hanging up the phone as she crawled slowly into the parking lot, stopping as she stared with wide eyes at the twenty of them under the small ticket booth.

“Just drive up!” Mike whispered harshly.

”Can't too fast and I'll wreck the truck, too slow and they won't get hurt,” she murmured, tapping the steering wheel. “I don't want to waste ammo when I don't need to either.”

Branson cleared his throat, “Do a wide turn, so you can keep momentum.”

She nodded before the phone rang. “What the fuck are you doing in the parking lot? I'm over here, you want me to walk?” She looked at him, his arms waving as he sucked on a cigarette.

“Could you?” She asked sarcastically. “Listen I'm going to pull up to the booth, you're going to jump up on to the roof, we're going to drive back here and you're going to hop in.”

“Then what?”

“We're going to go to my dad's station,” she exclaimed.

“Ha, the freeways completely blocked, there's no way you're getting there without a helicopter,” Ryan shouted pointing towards the freeway he could see.

“We'll go to Mike's then, he has a gated mansion,” she whispered, hating how she knew it. Ryan caught on easily, “How do you know Mike anyways?” She hung up, starting up the engine.

“I don't remember inviting you over,” Mike grumbled as she did a wide turn to the left and hit the pedal. The ambulance smashed against the people, blood smearing along the windshield as Ryan jumped on and she returned to the same place.

Mike pushed Branson over as Ryan pushed his head through the front, tossing his black bangs out of his face. “Quinn, why the hell do you have blood on you?”

“She saved my ass, shot someone, then shot another one, then another one, I had no idea she was like that before,” Mike murmured before cringing. After what had happened between her and Mike she'd unceremoniously threatened him, and after what he'd seen from her, he wasn't able to believe she was bluffing anymore.

“How do you know Mike, Quinn?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

“Same PE class, remember?” she said instantly, having rehearsed this if the time ever came.

“Said it to fast, lie,” Ryan murmured.

“Mike, how do I get to your house?” She asked, even as she turned right on Cint. “Left on Gentaly, follow that down, can't miss it.”

“So?” Ryan asked.

Her phone rang and she couldn't be happier.

“Dad?” She asked worriedly.

“Hey,” she muttered.

“Listen, honey, the guys and I are leaving, we're taking the rig to the military base, is there somewhere you can go?”

“We're going to Mike's house to party,” she mumbled.

“Ryan's going right? His parents called me worried sick about him. I've been worried too.”

“I'm here,” Ryan grumbled, and Mike noticed the weird air that took over the ambulance.

“Oh Ryan, how are you? I'd pick you up if I could, can't though, not in my jurisdiction, anyways, your parents have been calling me, they're locked in at their work, but they seem fine though. You should give them a call when you're at your friend's house.”

“Yea,” Ryan mumbled.

“Dad?” Quinn asked, wondering if he was done worshipping her friend. “Yea?” He asked almost in annoyance.

“Listen, I'll have Ryan call you when we get there.”

“Oh that's great, thanks.”

He hung up before she could say anything.

Ryan opened his mouth but she cracked her fingers against the steering wheel. “Shut up,” she whispered quietly. “H-He was worried about you… a lot,” she mumbled.

Why did that make her feel so horrible? She was worried for him too.

She turned left on the street she wanted. “I like this so far, not a lot of them,” she murmured looking at the few that had followed them, only a few, and at the speed she was going, they'd be lost with the curvy roads she was about to hit.

“So how did you meet my best friend, Mike?” Ryan asked, staring at the man who seemed to become one with the window.

“PE,” Mike explained quickly, “You ditched that day.”

Ryan sighed, “I'm not going to believe that.”

“It's as true as the cigarettes killing you,” she murmured as she curved around a left turn.

“Bullshit Quinn,” Ryan grumbled, “he's in our PE but Mike gets out of everything, and when I ditch I don't think that changes.”

“He had a revelation,” she barbed as she spotted the large one story mansion in front of her.

Mike's dad was a politician, sucking blood and stealing money while his mother was an actress. The mansion was just one of many across the country.

She loved seeing the three inch thick cement gate with spiked iron toppings. “I love your house,” she whispered as she slowed down to let him out waiting for him to pop in the code before sliding into the driveway to park the large truck.

“You fucking tell me how you met him Quinn,” Ryan growled out now that Mike was out of the car. “He's nothing g-”

“Shut up,” she snapped, “you're not the one to talk.”

It was a below the belt insult as she got out of the car, grabbing the guns from it. Mike shut the gate behind him as he helped her into the house.

She went directly for the TV, turning it on.

“In recent events the downtown area of San Diego has been overrun by a strange phenomenon. For those of you now joining us, there hasbeen an increase of attacks, where the murderer's victims will come back to life ifkilled by anything. T-There's been a test and it seems to work if the head is severed orthebrain destroyed.”

She left it running as she tossed the phone to Ryan, “You probably want to call your parents.” Ryan ignored her though and she sighed.

Mike met up with her as she turned on his coffee maker. “You didn't sleep well last night did you?”

“None of your business,” she muttered, “but I am going to borrow your computer and bed. I want to get some sleep after everything.”

Mike nodded before leaning his chin on his shoulder, his breath ghosting down her neck, “I still have some of your clothes here and you're welcome to a shower.” The whisper had her blushing and her nerves on edge.

“Mike, get off me,” she warned as she pulled a mug from the cabinet and set it by the coffeemaker. The three little ones were sitting on his couch talking to each other before she tossed the house phone between them. “Call your parents if you can get a hold of them.”

She passed them and entered Mike's study. It was a large imitation of the Oval Office. Two couches with a coffee table between them, a rug that had the landscape of the golden gate bridge from San Francisco.

There was a bookcase against the left hand side, behind the couch, filled with political records and company books. She welcomed herself to the leather chair behind the cherry wood finished desk.

The computer turned on and she opened the internet browser. A street map popped itself up and she studied it while listening to the recent news.

The door opened and she looked up at Ryan. She cleared her throat, “I-I'm sorry about what I said-”

“Should be,” he said coldly, letting his bangs sit in his face. She was almost scared at that, the clear sign of his angriness.

“I am,” she assured him.

He pressed his hands on top of the desk leaning over, her cell phone in one. “I-I was worried about you, when it started, worried that you were alright.”

She couldn't help the flinch, “I was worried about you too.”

“Then why wont' you tell me? W-We're childhood friends aren't we?” He asked pleadingly. “Mike's probably the worst thing out there other than me, and yes I'm nothing, just like him, but damn it you should know that!”

Quinn couldn't help the scoff. “Nothing?” She asked, standing up to balance out the height. “Ridiculous, you're not nothing,” she forced out, “I never want you to say anything like that again.” She met his eyes instantly, the emeralds mixing with chocolate.

The door opened and Branson slid in, a mug in his hand. “S-Sorry,” he got out.

Quinn cleared her throat sinking back into her chair, “Did you reach your parents?”

Branson nodded, “They're fine. They're at the house in the basement, told me to stay with you guys.”

Quinn nodded at him before he set the mug on the desk. “Mike told me to give this to you,” he mumbled and she grinned at the coffee in front of her. “Thanks Branson.”

“He always says,” Branson gulped and she had to feel afraid, “that coffee stains your teeth yellow.”

Ryan snorted, Quinn's eyes narrowed as Branson fled from the room. She heard the outburst of laughter from Mike before she looked at Ryan. “I'm going to make a call real quick, I want to see if the army has issued anything,” she explained as she started on her coffee.

Ryan nodded and left the room. She sighed, shaking her head before dialing a number on her cell phone.