Diary of a Fox

Entry 3

May 24

I am not alone.
As I was in a shut down gas station, doing my own version of guerrilla warfare-Revolutionary war hit-and-run technique used by the Patriots-(robbing and ditching), when I heard footsteps coming. So, of course, I held my gun-cash register, Walmart- up, secretly hoping I wouldn't have to use it.
"Don't shoot!" The one with dark curly hair said. Their were five of them. And all of them had their hands up.
"We're not soldiers!" The one with blonde hair yelled in fear. I I squinted my eyes, slowly moving towards them.
"Why should I believe you? You all have British accents. Well, except for blonde over there." He looked at them.
"Uh..." The one with light brown hair said.
"Their for our disguise. When British troops come, we use British accents so we don't get caught." I tilted my head slightly. Trying to decide if I believed them or not. Then, I came up with a genius idea.
"I believe you." I started. They heaved a sigh, lowering their arms, "But, I am trying to find my family. And, well, I'm gonna need food and money to survive." They looked at me, confused. "Which means," I lifted my gun. "empty your pockets. Now!" They all looked at each other, fear in their eyes.
"Wait, your looking for your family, right?" The one with tattoos up his arms asked. I nodded in a duh-I-just-told-you-that look, "Where do you live?"
"On the run." I snapped.
"Before, that. Where did you live?" I lowered my gun for a second, but quickly pointed it at them again.
"Why should I tell you?" I asked, quickly.
"Because. I may know where they are." I froze. Hands shaking. A lump formed in my throat, and just writing this is makes me shake.
"In a town fifteen miles south Los Angeles." I replied. He nodded.
"I know where they are." The others looked at him. I squinted my eyes, lowering my gun. I dropped it by my side.
"Fine. You win." They smiled in relief.
"What's your name?" The boy with curly hair asked.
"No. No name's. Call me Fox. Scarlet Fox." I replied.
"Why Scarlet Fox?" The blonde one asked.
"Because. My favorite color is scarlet red. And my favorite animal are foxes." I replied.
"So I can be Green Giraffe!" The blonde one said. I stared at him. "Or maybe just Neil."
"I'm Zach." The one with black hair said. I nodded.
"And I’m Luis.” The one with light brown hair said.
“Edward.” The one with tattoos on his arms said.
“Call me, Harold.” The boy with curly hair said. He flashed me a smile, but I just glared.
“Come on. Look for food, water, anything that we could need. Got it?” They nodded. I groaned. And started searching. We managed to find six bottles of water, four candy bars, two bags of chips, a giant two liter of Ginger Ale, and a flashlight, which is what I’m using to write this now. We managed to get about a mile away, before dark came. So, we’re in a forest. The forest freaks me out. Its dark, and gloomy, and only shows a little bit of the sky. I don’t know why, but I’m starting to feel homesick. Why didn’t I just stay home? If the soldiers found me, wouldn’t they’ve taken me to my family? To Anthony? I guess I’ll never know. I hope they aren’t leading me to a trap. I’m starting to like Harold. I hope no one reads this. Or I don’t know what I’ll do.
These guys seem familiar. Too familiar. I feel like I know them. But, I can't tell. Well, I guess its because I've survived a whole day with them. Them talking softly to each other. Probably about if they should ditch me or not. I don't want them to leave. They might know where my family is. And, if I want to find Anthony and mom, and dad, and my brother again, I've got to keep them around. Maybe I should be nicer. Well, I don't want to use up the batteries.

Notes