OK so, I got bored when I was sick and wrote this for me and my flatmate. I figure I'll swap narratives along the way. Hope you all enjoy it!
GEORGIE
Georgina stopped and looked up at the sun and inwardly cursed. Pulling her hood over her head, she attempted to shield herself from the rays, quietly wishing for the overcast sky of Shropshire. The thought made her smile grimly to herself-one of the major highlights of her year out to America had been the weather. The weather and the sights. Her plan had been simple. Summer camp in New York state, then her and her savings travelled the West Coast. After that, she had decided to 'wing it'. There had been nothing about the end of the world. If the whole world was going through this. She shrugged the thought off quickly. Dwelling on what might be going on at home in England would distract her from listening for movement in the woods, and it was critical for her survival that she listened for food or zombies.
Zombies for god's sake, of all the cheap horror movie monsters, it had to be zombies. When the out breaks had started getting serious, Georgina had thought that she would be the first to go. She hadn't realised that being the archery instructor at camp had equipped her with a serious edge in the survival stakes. She'd gotten lucky, surviving long enough to acquire and learn how to shoot a gun accurately enough to hit her mark. Of course, she had her crossbow, and a supply of arrows that she had 'borrowed' from camp, but under pressure, guns worked fine. Or an axe to the head, of course.
She was using the bow and arrow now. It was one of her rules for survival: If you can't see a Zombie, use the bow and arrow. It's silent, so the noise won't attract more. Guns were strictly for herds, quicker to reload, and by that point, the noise wouldn't matter.
A rustling noise came from ahead. Georgina froze. This was the key moment, the time to assess if the noise was coming from your next meal, or zombie. Georgina hoped it wasn't the later, or even worse, a bear. She pulled the bow string tense, and felt every cell in her body go on red alert. The noise got closer and she frowned. It didn't sound small enough to be a rabbit, but neither did it sound clumsy enough to be a walker. She wondered if she needed to start to run for it, but then the branches cleared and she forgot about making any decision.
It was a man. A living, breathing man. He was black, with a sleeveless blue top on. His face was round and young looking, and he was built somewhat like a rugby player. Or, she supposed, a football player, seeing as he was American. He was breathing through his mouth and she could see a slight gap in his teeth. He was empty handed, save the shotgun that he was pointing at her. For endless seconds they stared at each other. Then, he spoke.
"Put the crossbow down."
She started. She hadn't heard another human voice in weeks, maybe months, and for a moment, she forgot what to do. She considered her options-making herself vulnerable around a stranger seemed a fools move. She looked at his face. She suddenly realised that the reason he looked so young, although he had to be ten years older than her, was the fear. He did not want to kill her, but he did not want to be killed. She reasoned with herself that she was safe with him, and if she wasn't, she had a knife and axe as plan B.
"How about, I put it down, if you lower your gun at the same time. How does that sound?" She saw him start, and smiled. How about that, the end of the world and the English accent still got to people. Slowly they lowered their weapons, and regarded each other. She saw him glance from the bow, to the bag on her back, to the shot gun poking out of it, the axe and pistol on her hip and finally the scar across her collarbone. Finally, the man spoke.
"Just who are you anyway?"
"Georgina. What's your name?"
"T-Dog."
"T-Dog? Nice to meet you, I suppose. I'm sorry if I scared you. I thought you might have been a bear. I was hoping you were a rabbit. Or a deer. But rabbits are better, you can carry them. Or maybe a squirrel, although they're harder to shoot..." She trailed off. She was all too aware that her entrance had been impressive and now her babbling was directly counteracting it. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen another living person in so long." She paused, waiting for a response, but the man, or T-Dog, seemed to be deep in thought. She stood still for a moment, then asked the question that was on her mind.
"Is your camp- are your friends- close?"
He started and looked up at her.
"How did you know that I was camping anywhere?"
She indicated towards him. "You have nothing with you, aside from your gun. You won't get far with just a gun, what about water, shelter-you must have them somewhere else. Plus, your clothes are pretty torn up, so you can't have just come out to the woods-therefore you must have been here for a while. Just an educated guess really."
He stared at her for a while. "Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" She grinned. It was a nice comparison-and more original than Robin Hood. When she didn't reply, he pressed on. "Why do you want to know?"
She took a step towards him, hands facing up. "I need water. I was hoping for a trade. I have some bullets-I raided a store a couple of miles back. I won't hang around, but I can't get far in this heat on half a flask. I can give you some bullets now, as a down payment maybe?" She could see him trying to figure out the flaws in the plan, and she didn't rush him. It was more reassuring that he hadn't just said yes-then she would have been suspicious that he was someone she should be running from. Obviously he had people to protect, else he wouldn't be taking so much time.
A ear wrenching scream cut through the peace of the woods, a young woman. Then another, and another. T-Dog, spun on his heel.
"Andrea! The Kids! SHIT!" Without glancing back, he ran back into the woods. Georgina paused, then raced after him. She needed the water, and if she could protect the camp, they may be more inclined to offer her some.