Typical me, starting another story before I've finished the others. But my current obsession with The Walking Dead won't let me NOT write something. So, without further ado, I present Addison and the Asshole. Enjoy.
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Addison crashed through the underbrush, barely feeling the scratches as a thorny bush caught at her arms and face. She was running on pure adrenaline. The lead was hers. For now. It was only a matter of time before she tanked and they caught up to her. The bloody things didn't tire, and that was almost worse than the part where they craved your flesh.
Addison stumbled up a sudden incline, grabbing at the dirt with her fingers for anything to help pull her up. She could just barely make out the uneven, heavy steps of the Roamers over her own pounding heartbeat. They sounded far enough away that she might be home free if she could just make it up the steep rise. The Roamers' lack of coordination would greatly hinder their ability to climb up. However, if she fell back down, she was toast.
That thought was enough to spur her into action. Lunging for a sapling tree trunk, Addison just managed to wrap her fingers around it. Grunting with the effort, she pulled her body up to the tree. She spared a two-second glance back over her shoulder. Three of the Roamers were about twenty feet away from the incline. Addison focused ahead again, looking for her next tree branch or something to use. She spotted a low-hanging branch eight or nine feet from where she was. Bracing her feet against the trunk of the sapling, Addison readied herself for the big push. She wouldn't let herself think about it, the fact that she didn't have the strength to launch herself that far against gravity. She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, crouched, and then pushed out with all her might. Her hands instinctively reached out, ready to grab the branch. Addison felt her momentum slowing and found her hands grasping at thin air, their target a mere six inches too far.
"Sh—!" Before she could even get the whole word out, a dirty hand grabbed hers, seemingly from nowhere. The sudden pull left her momentarily breathless. Addison immediately started struggling to break the grip. She wasn't going down like this. She could feel that she was still being pulled. She kicked out, hoping to make contact with a brittle bone and snap it in two.
Instead, she met something soft yet hard, and rather than the moan that haunted her dreams, her action was followed by a "Fuckin' Christ!" That made her stop struggling, and the mystery man hauled her the rest of the way up. He dropped her unceremoniously as soon as she cleared the edge of the steep hill. "Was only savin' your ass, ungrateful woman," he said in what could only be described as a growl. Addison took deep, shaky breaths to slow her heart before she had a heart attack.
"You came out of nowhere," she said as soon as she could talk. "I thought you were a Roamer." Though he certainly didn't look like one, she added to herself, finally getting a real look. Dirty, sure. But not rotting or trying to eat her.
His slate-blue eyes narrowed when he noticed her staring. "I ain't a museum piece, so quit gawkin'." He adjusted the crossbow slung across his back and looked at her expectantly. "Well?" he said after a moment of silence. "Ain't you gonna thank me for keepin' you from bein' a happy meal?"
"Th-thanks," Addison stuttered, at a loss of what to think about the man.
He sneered at her shocked gratitude and shook his head. "Whatever." He turned and left.
Addison stared after him. After a minute or two, she mentally shook herself. Not Roamer, but Asshole.
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