FoA S3 Chapter 5

The weed hangover is the least of your problems. The part where you push the blankets off and you and Vicky both have your shorts around your thighs with your privates out… the visible cum stains, the stench of weed and body odor. None of that matters.

“Ungh,” you groan, rolling onto your back and blinking through the morning daylight.

Blearily, you peer up at the two women standing over you and Vicky. They’re dressed a bit shabbily, but you’re more interested in the shotguns that they’re holding. Both women are on the skinny side. You don’t know their names, but the most obvious thing about the one on the right is her nose ring. The one on the left: her mohawk.

“Um,” you say.

“Huh?” Vicky rolls over and freezes at the sight of them.

Joey stirs. Mohawk walks over to her and nudges her with the shotgun. “Wake up, bitch.”

“What’s happening?” Vicky asks, straightening her borrowed clothes and sitting up.

“You’re shutting the fuck up,” Nose Ring tells her, racking her shotgun and pointing it at Vicky’s face.

“For fuck’s sake,” Vicky says, looking startled.

Joey sits up groggily. “Oh, fuck.”

“That’s right,” Mohawk says.

The color drains from Joey’s face so fast that you think she might pass out. She doesn’t. She just starts to sweat.

“I can explain,” she says, throwing a wild look at you and Vicky.

A mosquito lands on Nose Ring’s arm and she slaps it. “Just do it,” she says to Mohawk.

“Yup.” Mohawk points her shotgun straight at Joey’s face.

You and Vicky act at the same time. You kick Mohawk’s knee from behind as Vicky grabs Nose Ring’s shotgun and yanks her to the ground. They grabble while you pounce on Mohawk. Meanwhile, Joey scrambles up and sprints into the swamp.

A shotgun goes off, scattering birds from the trees as you punch Mohawk in the face. Vicky yanks the shotgun away from Nose Ring and hits her in the face with the stock, knocking her cold.

But Mohawk kicks you off and fires at you. Vicky knocks you out of the way, and you both stumble into the swamp after Joey. You run full tilt. Joey’s clothes are thin and too tight, but at least they exist. You still have no shoes.

You hear another shotgun blast behind you, but Mohawk doesn’t hit anything; the swamp is too thick. You and Vicky don’t look back. You run until you catch up with Joey, who is doubled over and gasping for breath.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on?” Vicky demands through gritted teeth, keeping her voice low even though you’ve almost certainly lost Mohawk.

“Who the fuck are you?” Joey shoots back breathlessly.

“Bitch, we just saved your life,” you say, joining Vicky in looming over the skinny girl. She swallows. “Who were they?”

“They work for Z,” Joey replies, scowling. She is wide awake and sober now.

You and Vicky exchange a glance. Z? Who the fuck is Z?