22 January 2021 - 15 Minute Fiction Friday
The streets were scarce, silent but for the laboured breaths of the horde behind.
Bill looked to his right, staring into the face of his father’s ex-cellmate, his eyes maddeningly wide - a bloodhound finding their scent.
Bill gave him a curt nod, manipulating his face into a doctored look of excited rage.
A hundred metres ahead, the first of them emerged, jeering, wielding makeshift weapons of their own. Of course he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t one of them, this was his father’s life.
His baseball bat slipped within his grip as the crowd ahead roared and charged.