I look down around at the surrounding deadheads. Their decaying faces sniff the side of the building, and their decaying hands try to climb the brick wall. They know very well that I am hiding up here. I've probably left a blood trail a mile long, if you exaggerate. The stinging in my leg stopped about an hour ago, when it went numb. I couldn't even flex my toes.
I stared at the bloody bat leaning against the roof's ledge. The next roof over had those things swarmin' all over it. Every once and a while, in an attempt to get to me, they'd jump off the building. Ultimately, if I wait long enough, most of them should commit suicide. I wouldn't even have to lift a finger. The door is cracked and all I can hear is banging. The chain hanging loosely around the door handle. A small group of those monsters are trying to get through to me. I'm surrounded on all sides.
Throughout the streets all I could hear was moaning, scraping of teeth across bone, and the occasional scream. The screams are what haunt me the most. Because they mean the deadheads found other survivors, and now their dead too. Soon anyone left in this God forsaken city, will be dead. And once again, for the countless time in my life, I'll be alone.
There was a crack of thunder and a quick flash of lightning from somewhere, far from here. A dark cloud moving and looming over the buildings, darkening the windows. I knew the exposure itself could kill me, if not the flesh-craving freaks, trying to eat my face.
I curled on the gravel; waiting for something to happen. Guess I got lucky because it didn't start raining. The Georgia sun was still beating down on me, relentlessly, through the clouds. I looked at the pooling blood around my shin. Early this morning, while rummaging in a street, I had to escape through a broken window. To my dismay a shard caught my leg and I ripped a gash down the length of my leg. A rough cut from below the knee to almost the ankle. Thank God I found this rooftop, before I got killed.
There was another building in my view. The rooftop was deadhead free, from what I could see. If I squinted hard enough, I could see figures walking around over there. But they weren't staggering, and the more I squinted, I saw a glimpse of a gun. I know those things can't use a gun, none the less carry one around. Another person? Or in this case a small group of some ones.
I ignored the protesting pain jolting through my leg, and stood. Grabbed my bag and bat and hobbled over to the opposite ledge. "Hey!" I waved my hands above my head, did they even see me? "Hey! Over here." I yelled, but they didn't seem to be able to hear me. "Please." I silently pleaded, tears falling down my face. "Hey, I'm not bitten!" I jumped up, and landed hard with a shot of pain. I gripped the ledge; if I collapse they won't see me.
I breathed a sigh of relief when one of them looked at me. He had a Sheriff's hat on, and a badge. Great a cop, just the person that needs to rescue me. "Yeah! I'm here!" I waved the bat above my head as they ran over to their buildings edge. They were saying something that I couldn't quite understand. "What?" I tried to read their lips. I believe they were telling me to stay here, and something about coming to get me. It made me nervous when they ran back to the door, and left me alone again.
I limped my way over to the door, and leaned on a vent of some sort. Snarling teeth and rotting flesh tried to grab me through the gap in the door. I hope they hurry, because I feel like passing out. There were no gunshots, or anything. "Open the door." A voice called out, and I blinked at it. "Please. We need to get out of here." A hand reached through. A normal colored, not falling off, arm.
I fumbled with the key in my pocket, and yanked the lock off the chain, letting it drop to the ground. I yanked the door open as someone came through the door. "Are you bitten?" The cop stared down at the blood, gushing from my leg. "No, I promise. I just got cut. It hurts something terrible." My knees were about to give out, I think they could tell. This small Asian kid grabbed my elbow to keep me upright. "Can you walk?" Some redneck guy, with a crossbow asked. "No. I can't walk on it anymore." They looked at each other.
"I'll carry you." A medium built man offered, and who was I to disagree. The Asian kid took my bag and bat, as the guy picked me up bridal style. I noticed a bandage on his arm. They practically sprinted downstairs. "What's your name? I'm Rick. That's T-Dog." He pointed to the one carrying me. "That's Glenn. And that's Daryl." The Asian was Glenn and the quiet redneck must be Daryl. We went to the basement of the building, and I didn't know why.
Sewers? This is beyond disgusting and unsanitary, but whatever gets me out of here. I was now riding on T-Dog's back, my head ducked down on his shoulder. When we emerged, there was a bright light. We were outside, somewhere on the other side of town. Damn that was a shortcut I wish I knew about, when the world went to shit. They started heading towards a white van. Or it used to be white, now it has a red tint to the paintjob.
T-Dog slid me into the backseat, and sat behind me. Daryl sat next to me, but still far away. What was his problem anyways? Rick started the car and pulled out into an old dirt road. There was a twinge of pain in the pit of my stomach, and my head started swimming. It was getting harder to breath, and I grabbed onto the back of Rick's headrest. "What's wrong?" Glenn turned around in the passenger seat, and Rick stopped the car.
I felt myself leaning over in the seat until my head hit something soft. I looked up to meet the eyes of Daryl; I was lying in his lap. His face started blurring in and out as I blinked away the pouring tears. With a heave of my chest, everything went black.
When I came to, it was cool outside. Sweat clung to my body, like a sheet of perspiration. My leg was throbbing still, but didn't hurt as bad. I sat up on my elbows and looked at the neat bandages on my leg. Spots of the white, turning red, with small amounts of leaking blood. "You're awake?" An older man leaned over me and offered me his hand. "What happened?" I asked, rubbing my neck, and working out a cramp.
"I think you passed out from pain or shock. Take this, it'll help." He handed me a can of water and what appeared to be two different types of medication. He explained that one was an anti-biotic and the other was prescription pain reliever. "I'm Dale by the way." I shook his extended hand, as he pulled me to my feet. "Rick says he never caught your name." He pointed out.
"I'm Niharika Hoskin." I shook his hand and he looked me over. "Pretty name. What tribe are you?" He asked, guiding through the tent's door. "Cherokee." I answered him and held onto his arm. I limped with him over to a small fire. I noted at least 9 others, two of which were children. "I see she's okay." A lanky brunette lady said and handed me a bowl. It contained what looked like venison and beans.
They introduced themselves one by one. I introduced myself and explained, yet again, that I'm Cherokee. I noticed Daryl sat away from the group but still close enough to join in the conversation at times. I told them how I made my way to that rooftop, and how Rick found me. For him I am eternally grateful.
Slowly everyone went to tents and Dale went into the RV with Andrea. I stayed seated with Glenn and Daryl. "No offense, but I've never been this close to an Indian." Glenn laughed and I just stared blankly past him. "I'm not Indian. I'm Native American, get it right." I joked with him and he smiled. "Niharika, that's a pretty name." Daryl said, startling me as he moved closer to the fire. "Thank you." I played with the loose strands on the bottom of my shorts.
"Your lucky we heard you. We were about to leave." Glenn sighed and leaned into the fire more, running his hands through his hair. "I'm not lucky. Luck is a silly American superstition." Even though that was a total lie. I didn't want to admit that I was bad luck. My tribe even almost cast me out, because they blamed for anything that went wrong. Daryl snorted, "I guess your right." The flames flickered, creating sparks that flew upwards.
"See that band of stars?" I pointed out a group of stars they called the Milky Way. "That's what my people called the Grizzly Bear. A bear went hunting one day, up a tall mountain. As he climbed, ice and snow clung to his fur. When he crossed the sky, the snow trailed behind him. Creating the Milky Way." I broke my concentration and brought it back to staring into the fire.
"That's a nice story." Glenn said and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Good night." He got up and disappeared towards a tent on the edge of the camp. "I'm not remotely tired. You?" I tried to strike up a conversation with Daryl. "I don't sleep. I stay and watch over things." His eyes were locked on the edge of the forest.
"Nice venison you caught. I was told that deer are the protectors of the foliage. Seems stupid now." He looked skeptical of my story, but finally looked at me. "It's not stupid. I know the story." That surprised me. I didn't take him for the kind of guy to know Cherokee legends. "Who pulled that Cherokee Rose that's in the RV?" I asked, and his face lit up. "I did. No disrespect for your kind."
"None taken. I think their beautiful flowers, too bad that one died." The flower was wilted and the petals were falling off, I saw it when I stood in the RV. "How's your leg?" His southern drawl had appeal to it. "Hurts but feels better than before. Who's Merle?" His smile fell quickly. "My brother, Why?" I could tell he wasn't comfortable talking about him.
"His name was on the bottle, Dale gave me anti-biotic." He just nodded and looked away again. "I guess, I'll keep guard with you. Even if my leg is totally useless." He laughed and loaded a bolt into his crossbow. The night was quiet when we ran out of things to talk about. But that doesn't concern me right now. I like the quiet, especially when someone is here with me. I hate the silence when I'm alone because it makes me sad. During the course of the night, me and Daryl would occasionally make eye contact.
If my father saw me sitting here with him, he'd kill me. My father was old school in that sense. He believed Cherokee should only communicate with other Native Americans. It's a stupid concept if you ask me. It's the twenty-first century; I'm not on the reservations anymore. I find Daryl attractive in some ways. His deep southern accent was damn right sexy. His sleeveless shirt showed off his muscles, and the dirt and grime seemed to outline the ripples. Did I mention he has a nice ass?
"What are you staring at?" He asked and was looking at me with a scowl. I shook my head and glued my eyes to the sky again. "Nothing." He just laughed and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me now. "What are you staring at?" I asked without chancing a glance at him. "Nothing." His eyes drifted back to the trees.
A smirk broke across my face. The fire was fizzling out as a breeze rolled by. In a gust of wind, the fire was completely blown out. Now it's cold. But I'm used to it by now. Daryl didn't look effected by it either. Must spend a lot of time outside, probably hunting and stuff like that. I'd have to ask him, once I heal up, if I could hunt with him. It's been forever since I've gotten to do that.