He thought she was a roamer. The way she moved her body behind the dirty car window, she looked like a roamer. With muffled moans she let out, she sounded like a roamer. But then her hand came up to the glass, clawing at it for freedom, and through the grime he could see the pinkness of her flesh.
He still held his knife out, as he reached for the handle of the car – just in case she posed a threat – but as soon as he pulled the door open, she collapsed. Her knees that had been holding her up on the back seat gave way and her entire body fell forward with door. He dropped the knife immediately and reached to catch her before she hit the asphalt.
Half in his arms and half still in the car, he finally got a real look at her. She was a tiny young thing, no taller than five and a half feet. She had soft features and long blonde hair, which was covered in dried blood. The wound – the bullet wound to be more specific - on the left side of her head was to blame for that.
He placed his fingers on her neck. Her pulse was weak, but still pumping, "How the hell are you alive, kid?" She stirred slightly but didn't open her eyes.
He wasn't was sure what he was supposed to do. Should he put her out of her misery? She was dehydrated, probably hadn't eaten a thing in a very long time and the head wound was most likely agony. She probably didn't have much longer.
Carefully, he began to haul her out of the car completely, she was heavier than she looked. "Dead weight," he muttered to himself. She stirred again and he paused. This was someone's child he was about to kill. He thought about Duane.
He could practically hear his son's voice, like right he was there with him, "But Daddy, she's survived this long and there has to be some reason for it right? Everything has reason."
Everything has a reason. That's what he taught him; and maybe the reason he found this girl, maybe the reason she survived a thing that should have killed her instantly, was so he could help her.
"Well shit," he groaned at himself, hoping he wouldn't regret his decision as he picked the girl up. He spotted a rundown shack in the distance. He could carry her that far.
. . .
For three days straight she didn't wake. Not when he cleaned her wound and not when he dressed it. Sometimes he thought she was gone, her breathing was so shallow, but then she'd moan in her sleep or he'd checked her pulse and he knew she was still with him. He stayed with her all three days, living off the last of his canned food he had. He didn't want to leave her to hunt, not when she needed him most.
On the fourth day, the crackling was what woke her up. One second she was lying on the floor motionlessly, and the next she on her feet, her blue eyes as big as saucers. She was yelling at him, some of the words were far from understandable, but she knew her curse words.
He raised himself from the crouching position he was in by the fire place and started calling at her, "Woah, woah kid! Calm down!"
He took a step towards her and she lunged for whatever was closest to her. In this case, it was an iron poker. He went to seize her wrist before she could get her hands on it, but before he even touched her, she recoiled, grabbing her head and breathing in painfully.
"You okay?" he reached out to touch her shoulder, but reconsidered and placed his hand back down at his side.
She raised her eyes at him, her fire now replaced with aching, "Wh – who are you?"
"My name is Morgan," He stepped around her carefully to block her from the poker, "Do you know yours?"
Her eyebrows creased deeply as she thought, she shook her head,"No."
"Do you know what happened to you? To you head."
She reached up to forehead and winced, "No."
Morgan tightened his jaw. She didn't remember a damn thing. She probably didn't even know about the roamers. He was going to have to teach her everything; and everything was going to have to be in baby steps.
He spoke softly to her, in a reassuring way, like he had with Duane so many times, "Okay… that's… okay."
"Do you know?"
Morgan sighed, "I don't know anything, kid" Her shoulders slumped. "But I'm gonna help ya."
AN: Team Delusional 'til death do us part. No pun intended.
