Endangered/Issue 16 (Old)

This is a preview #16 of Endangered and is titled Just Watch the Sunset. This is Issue 4 of Volume 2 and is only a preview.

Just Watch the Sunset (Preview)
“I know I wasn’t there a lot, infact now that I think about it, I was barely there. Mom and you spoiled me with gifts and I just spent my time away from you guys. Sad thing is, I never felt bad about it until now.”

“I also wanna talk about me leaving. I guess I was selfish and it was just in the moment, y’know? I was just so--blinded, I guess is the word, about how strict you guys were. I just ignored the stuff you did for me and looked at the shit I thought was wrong, least I know you were just trying to protect me now.”

“The point is I’m sorry, for everything. The disrespect, running away...all of it. I just hoped you guys knew I loved you, because trust me, I do. I always will. Always.”

Dre, who sat on a chair across from his parent’s bodies, soon stops his rambling apology, instead opting to go back to playing with his fingers. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he found them but it’s definitely been awhile, considering it was dark out now. They probably should of left a long time ago but Dre just couldn’t find it in him to leave, so here he is now.

While Dre continues to just sit awkwardly by his parents, McCoy had taken position in the family room of the house. Sitting in a uncomfortable position on the couch, like a man who seems in the wrong place, and just stares forward at the TV. Originally McCoy was waiting in the car but once it became apparent that Dre wasn’t leaving he had came in, and just watched TV. Honestly it felt weird just sitting down and watching TV since McCoy was used to working hard and getting money, but he guesses that his Hot Dog stand was gone by now.

Currently McCoy watches the news, which of course is going crazy over the President’s speech. State of Emergency, no way could that be good. But one thing that puzzled McCoy is why Obama didn’t mention anything about the army working to stop this, or the CDC working on a vaccine. He never did know with damn politics, and he never liked Obama anyways. But the message was still very clear and McCoy saw Obama’s speech as saying “we’re fucked.”

He looks back over to Dre who still remains planted in the chair. While McCoy hasn’t known Dre for long he considered him close, and he currently felt so much sympathy for him. Dre was a great guy and he didn’t deserve that, than again no one does really.

After checking the time on his clock and seeing that it’s late, McCoy stands from the couch and heads toward Dre. Upon walking over he just stands there at first, hands in his pockets, and watches Dre intensely, different emotions in it. “So um Dre, I hate to bother you, but I just gotta ask something.”

McCoy heard Dre say something but he says it in such a hushed way that McCoy couldn’t understand. “What?”

“I asked what it was.” Dre doesn’t even make eye contact with McCoy and that was new for him. McCoy ignored that for now anyways.

“I just wanted to ask about sleeping arrangements. Like where the pillow and blankets are.”

“Where were you gonna sleep?”

“The couch.”

“I ain’t gonna let you sleep on the couch, take my bed, I don-t--”

“Dre.” McCoy interrupts him mid-sentence. “You had a long day, alright? Take the bed, infact, just go to bed right now. You deserve a rest.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah man.” McCoy looks over to the bodies and sighs. “Should we bury them in the morning?” Dre however doesn’t answer and just looks directly at the bodies before turning his head with his tears held back.

“Night brotha.” Dre says before standing and walking to his old room, leaving McCoy in the hallway. After taking another look at the bodies he too looks away and heads back the couch, deciding not to bother Dre about any sheets. The basket blanket on top of the couch should work just fine. Upon covering himself with the blanket and resting his head up against the couch’s arm comfortable McCoy shuts his eyes to sleep.

Dre on the other hand just lays down on top of his bed, just staring up at the roof. After having his whole family just being ripped away Dre has no idea what to do, except for the simple answer. Just go on. He only shut his eyes and mutters his love for his parents, before attempting to sleep.

Instead of sleeping like he probably should, Michael stays awake inside the guest room. He alternates between walking around the room, laying down, or sitting down. He can’t decide on which one to do; so he instead alternates between them.

It’s been a few hours since Tate and him arrived back from the supermarket. The two survived and even got some decent stuff but they had gotten their fair share of bruises. Tate had suffered a bruise on his cheek and Michael had a red eye, which he received after being punched in the face. At least he escaped with his life. However as they were going to James’s house they couldn’t get past the city due to some more chaos, so they had to head back to Tate’s house. Michael swore he was gonna head over there tomorrow on foot however, knowing she was still there.

After messing with his hair and rubbing his eyes, Michael takes a seat on the bed’s edge. For a moment he just stares forward before turning toward a book that was sitting on the edge of the desk; a bible. Instantly he’s reminded of the priest from a night ago, the insane little priest. He tried pushing it to the back of his head but truth was that he was scared. Terrified of what the dude did and how Michael could end up like him.

A man his whole life who is just good and snaps makes him think about himself; he doesn’t want to end up like him. If anything he wants to become a better person and not some psycho. “I’m not really a religion guy, never have been. Whenever people asked me what I believed I just said ‘nothing’. So yeah, that’s that.” Michael says out loud but not to himself, but to the bible.

“I always heard that you were a mysterious God though. How you work in mysterious ways and all. Well, if you are real, then I see you’re mysterious. Well, with all this shit.”

“You turn water to wine and priests into pyscos, right? I don’t know what your plans are but I’m gonna tell you something. Ready? Okay. You don’t own me. You aren’t gonna change me like you did the other fucks out there. I’m gonna survive this.”

“You’re not gonna change me like you did him. I’m gonna find my daughter, survive this shit, and not become some--some crazy.” Michael breathes softly before rubbing his head. “In short, fuck you.” Upon saying his words Michael smirks as he feels a load lift off his shoulder, then he plops back down on the bed. With his head rested against the pillow he simply rubs his head, brushes the hair out of his eyes, before turning over into a more comfortable position.

No positions proved comfortable though as he kept constantly rolling over, switching positions, and tried everything. Each way turned out the same though. Looks like Michael found a new enemy in the form of sleep. After another few minutes he just ends up sitting up and continuing his old routine.