Rick Grimes cursed under his breath as he went to grab Daryl by the shoulders, "There're too many of 'em," He whispered, glancing over the hood of the car they were hiding behind, "We gotta find somewhere, c'mon." The groans of a walker ended Rick's sentence, and Daryl only nodded. Rick's glass-like blue eyes darted around them, trying to think fast; his eyes landed on the sign of a run-down shop, blinds were down, and the windows were dirty. "Over there," Rick ordered, grabbing his revolver, "Go." Daryl grunted in response, looking through the scope of his crossbow as he emerged from the side of the once clean Toyota car, and allowed his combat boot-covered feet pad across the road, leading to the shop. Rick followed behind, his revolver pointed behind him to the hoard of the hideous creatures, shooting down the one's that got a little too close for comfort.
The two men huddled inside the store, "I told ya'll comin' in this part of town was stupid." Hissed the southern accent, Rick combed his fingers through his head, "We'll make it out." He stated firmly, glancing out of one of the blinds, seeing only a few of the walkers had followed them. The soft padding of feet caused Daryl and Rick to stare wide-eyed at one another, they sounded foreign compared to the dragging, and long steps of walkers; could it possibly be a human? One that wasn't trying to get a taste of their flesh?
Daryl's eye once again returned to the scope of his crossbow, and he slowly stood from where he was crouching next to Rick, who followed his actions. The steps continued, but they were lighter than before. Rick jutted his head to the direction in one of the aisles of the dark store, "I'll check over there," He whispered, "You over there." The Georgian-raised boy pointed toward a different aisle, Daryl obeyed.
The two grown men (and their firearm) headed down the aisles of the store, and though, even when they stopped, the padding feet continued. But they seemed closer. Rick's walking ceased, but Daryl continued through the store; he didn't hear it. Rick licked his lips, allowing his gaze to settle on the aisle that was only two over from his; the blue-eyed man's eyes widened when he saw the top of a head, one that just barely reached above the shelves. It wasn't a walker, the walking was too perfectly paced, and it wasn't loud. Rick buckled his knees slightly, tip-toeing to where he saw the head; though, when he reached the aisle, all he found were knocked over canned-goods, his brow furrowed.
He knew he wasn't seeing things, it looked so realistic. The familiar sound of the loading of a shotgun relieved Rick of his thoughts, as did the metal cylinder on the back of his head. Rick's eyes widened, "You got two seconds to tell me why the hell you're in my store," The voice growled, "Or your head'll be blown to bits, and don't you think I'll hesitate."
The thing that surprised Rick the most; the voice sounded almost teenage-like, it certainly wasn't a grown woman from what he could tell.
Just an idea i've had for a while, I apologize if it's horrible, and short. It'll get better, guaranteed. c: