Hunted || Wesari

Chapter Three: Demands

For a few seconds, no one knew what to do, paralyzed with fear. They'd only just started replanting their gardens, and now their adversaries were back? If their gardens got destroyed again, there would be no way that they'd be able to finish replanting before Spring ended.

The leader shrugged his shoulders, turning around in a circle so he made eye contact with everyone. "Well?"

The first of them to get over their shock was Keith, which was good, seeing as he was their leader. "Uh, how much do you need?"

It wasn't like they had been given a number. The first time they'd been attacked, half of their rivals had burst into their storage and grabbed all of their cans, while the other's had trampled and dug up their gardens. At least, this time around, they were acting more dignified.

"Half of everything you have," The leader grinned, his gold tooth glimmering in the sunlight. "That won't be too much, will it?"

Even though it had been framed as a question, Wes knew it was a demand. He might of well have said, "give us half your food or I'll put a bullet through everyone's brain." Luckily, Keith detected the sinister undertones of the man's words as well.

"Of course not," He pointed at Monica and her wife, who were frozen in fear. "Vasandani's, can you please get our friends their food?"

The two women nodded, before sprinting off to storage. Wes watched their forms disappear into the shed, and wished he could join them. With his leg, he wouldn't be much good in a fight. And from what he'd seen of these people, it was just a matter of time before one broke out.

Wes turned his attention to their "guests". Most of them had significant muscle mass, and looked like they had been born with weapons in their hands. They looked terrifying, and it didn't help that most of them were grinning. Wes knew that no matter how many times he saw these people, they'd always unnerve him.

He didn't understand how they could do it. How they could just attack other groups, terrorize them, kill them. Did they really have that little humanity left in them, that they took enjoyment in the pain of others?

There was dead silence as the two groups waited. Wes had a sinking feeling in his chest; he felt like something was about to go very, very wrong.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the purple-haired woman. Unlike most of her accomplices, who were surveying everyone, she was looking straight at him. He felt like her gaze was piercing him, and despite her height, he felt threatened. He didn't even want to know what she could do with that baseball bat.

He watched as she slid it off her shoulders and twirled it in her hands. Wes looked away from her, trying to calm his nerves. He was a pretty big guy, the tallest of everyone in his group, and the strongest. She probably saw him as a threat, and was making sure he didn't try anything. Right? Still, for some reason, the longer she stared at him, the more he felt the desire to run.

Then she moved. Dragging the bat on the ground behind her, she walked straight up to the leader. Wes watched as she brushed her hair out of the way and whispered something in his ear, before stepping back and giving Wes a smile. His stomach dropped.

"You there!" The leader pointed one of his guns at Wes' chest. "What happened to your leg?"

All eyes were on him now. Wes gulped. "I- I tore a muscle."

He didn't know why he lied, exactly. He just had a feeling that he should, like something terrible would happen to him if he told the truth. Truth be told, the words had just slipped out of his mouth; he'd barely thought about them.

"Did you now?" The man made a "tisk" noise with his tongue. "I hope you're not lying to me, boy."

Seeing as Wes at least five inches taller than that man, he felt like son wasn't the best word that man could've used to describe him. Still, the threat was anything but funny.