Day 962 - Afternoon

Becca

A blue truck rested parallel to the curb, outside of the museum that Vince and Wyatt were exploring. Sitting cross-legged in the truck bed with her chin in her left palm, Becca found herself bored and tired. The routine of scouting, scavenging and ending up disappointed was starting to get to her. The group had been doing the same thing for months on end and they weren't profiting from it at all.

Becca leaned back and felt the back of her varsity jacket connect with the rear window of the truck. She scratched the scar on her left cheek and went to put her chin back in her right palm, before remembering what she was doing and switching hands. Her right hand was more of a hindrance than a useful appendage now. It was awkward and uncomfortable to use, and as she desperately tried to sleep each night she felt something tingle in the fingers that were no longer there. She longed to touch the missing digits and stamp out the annoyance, but considering her hand had been split in half after a bite, she would never be able to and the feeling was driving her insane. That was before she even took into account the bones that Vince's machete had annihilated when he'd disabled her to save her life.

To begin with Becca had resented Vince for what he'd done, but she'd come to accept that he'd saved her life. She'd never write again, she'd never draw again which pained her even more and she'd never play guitar which was immensely painful, but she'd live another day.

Becca glanced to her left, hit by sudden realisation as she snapped out of her train of thought. Next to her sat the seven-year-old girl named Annie, a child whom Wyatt had rescued months ago while their much larger group escaped a camp in Tennessee. Not long after Becca had lost her older sister, Shel, in a spiral of unfortunate events, she'd bonded with the younger child and eventually came to accept her as a surrogate sister of sorts - by no means a replacement for Shel, but someone that Becca could keep her mind on and prevent herself from descending into depression. She assumed that was what would happen if she spent too much time locked inside her own head.

Annie's shoulder was barely touching Becca's elbow. Her knees were pulled up towards her chest as she hugged her legs; atop the younger child's head sat a cyan coloured hat with a white stripe through it – Annie had been given it at some point by a dying group member, and she kept it to remember him by, even though they'd barely spoken. Though Annie's head was turned away as her cheek rested on her knee, Becca could see a curl of dark brown hair escaping the hole in the the hat which she wore backwards. Becca smirked at the look and gently rested her hand on Annie's shoulder.

"Hey," she said, "You okay?"

"Yeah." Annie said, her voice muffled as her knee pressed into her cheek. "Just... bored."

Becca understood what she meant – it was always the same. Every time two of the group left to search a building Annie would always end up left behind to worry and feel useless. "They'll be fine." Becca said reassuringly. "It's Vince and Wyatt, they've got us through worse than an old museum."

"Why don't they ever let me go?" Annie asked. "I wouldn't get in the way."

Becca smirked and put her arm around Annie's shoulder. "They're not worried about you getting in the way. They want you to be safe, so they make sure me or Wyatt is with you and they go in there. Every time they go in a place they risk running into trouble and they don't want to put you in harm's way." She leaned forward and looked at the tall windows of the museum, intrigued. "Then again, they have been a long time. Wanna go check it out?"

Annie sprang to life at the suggestion. "You mean... I can come?" The joy on her face was confusing; perhaps she really did want to go inside an abandoned museum, or maybe she just didn't want to be 'left out.'

"Well, I can't exactly leave you here, can I?" Becca grinned as she hopped over the side of the truck bed and felt her boots connect with the asphalt. Annie shot to the side of the truck and attempted to copy Becca's manoeuvre, only to succeed in getting stuck. Becca sighed and grabbed Annie beneath the armpits, lifting her off of the truck with a great deal of strain. Once that was done she took a deep breath and walked over to the cab of the vehicle, grimacing at the ugly bloodstains that ran down the pickup's flank. She had witnessed the torment that had led to those marks; some of the blood was her own, but water was too precious to waste on cleaning the vehicle.

Becca opened the door on the driver's side and grabbed a pistol from inside. She tucked it into the waist of her jeans and returned to Annie, who was waiting nervously, uncertainty visible on her face. Becca bent her knees so that her head was in line with Annie's. She smiled, straightened the hat on Annie's head and then put her arm behind the girl's back, guiding her in the right direction.

"You'll be fine, just stay where I can see you." Becca warned. Annie nodded energetically as Becca asked her to move onto her right side. Once Annie followed the order, Becca used her left hand to retrieve the pistol from the waist of her jeans. She supported her left hand with her right – about all it was good for any more – and walked forwards, keeping Annie in sight at all times. If anything happened to the kid on her watch she'd never be able to forgive herself – and neither would Vince and Wyatt.

Becca and Annie made their way towards the windows of the museum. Becca gestured for Annie to look through while she scanned the area. "See anything?" She asked.

"Nope." Annie said.

"Damnit," Becca replied, "Why is it never easy?" She adjusted her arms as Annie returned from the window, already tired from lifting her pistol. "We're gonna have to go in and check."

Annie nodded in understanding and they crept towards the double doors which had remained open ever since the adults had ventured inside. "Ten minutes," Vince had said. "We'll be out in ten minutes. Any longer and we might be in trouble."

It had been almost twenty minutes.

Becca took a tentative step into the museum, pistol held aloft as Annie crept along beside her. She took another step, then a third before she stopped and hesitated, the sides of her vision blocked out by exhibits and artefacts.

"Shit." She groaned.

"What is it?" Annie asked, detecting not only the disdain in Becca's voice, but the latent fear as well. It didn't take long for Annie to recognise the chorus of moaning dead that probably infested the museum.

Becca's first instinct was to cry out to Vince and warn him if he didn't already know, but she held her tongue even though it almost pained her to do so. She grimaced and took a fourth step, the blind spots on either side of her vision disappearing. Instantly her eyes widened as she saw twenty or more walkers to her left and right, shambling towards her and Annie.

Becca cursed again, and backed up. The walkers had noticed them, no doubt about that, but there was nowhere to hide. They couldn't get in the truck – the windscreen was cracked and if a walker put pressure on it the glass wouldn't take the weight, leaving them open to the dead.

They backed up further until Becca felt her back connect with the side of the truck. Annie whimpered in fear slightly as the walkers pushed towards the entrance of the museum. With no other option, Becca grimaced and fired at the nearest member of the dead, the bullet shattering its teeth and pinging up into its skull.

Becca fired twice more, killing two more walkers, and saw a flash behind the crowd. She heard grunting and cutting as she fired at the dead again, and sighed in relief as Vince's machete cut through a walker's skull. Carving his way through, Vince leapt towards her and then turned to face the pack of corpses again, slicing at them and creating a path for Wyatt. The other man stumbled past the dead, fear visible in his eyes, and ran straight for Annie. He wrenched the truck door open and made sure Annie was safely inside before diving in himself and putting the key into the ignition. Becca turned her attention back to the walkers and ended several more, though her aim was blocked occasionally when Vince would dive past to thrust his machete into a walker's head.

"Becca, Vince, get in the truck!" Wyatt called. Becca heeded the demand and vaulted over the side of the truck, landing harshly in the bed. Her pistol escaped her grasp and slid across the metal as she heard a walker approach the truck behind her. She reached for the pistol and tugged it towards her body as she felt her fingers brush against the grip.

As her hand closed around the weapon she swung her body around and fired, only to hear a devastating grunt of shock as Vince staggered forwards, the left side of his body thrust by the impact of the bullet. Becca barely had time to recuperate and kill the walker she had intended to.

"Vince!" She cried, "Get to the truck!"

Thankfully, Vince wasn't dead. She heard him breathing harshly through gritted teeth as his right hand rested on his shoulder and his left sliced weakly at the approaching walkers.

"Vince!" Becca cried, "Vince!"

She finally caught his attention and he backed up, lobbing his blade into the truck bed. He slowly crawled over the side of the vehicle, Becca pulling him in with both hands, and collapsed, blood spewing from his shoulder.

Becca slammed her fist on the top of the cab twice and, just like that, they were speeding down the road, away from the walkers.

Vince's eyes were closed in pain as he lay clutching his shoulder. Becca tried to get a better look but he put his hand out in an attempt to keep her away. "Get... off." He grunted, "I think... I think it went straight... through."

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know you were there – I turned and meant to shoot a walker." Becca replied, terrified that she had sentenced Vince to death.

"It's not gonna kill me... I don't think so, anyway." Vince replied, and then sucked a deep breath through his teeth. "Jesus Christ."

He groaned in pain as Becca tried to help. She was no doctor. Pressing her palms into her forehead she crushed her eyes shut and racked her brain for any ideas. "Shit, shit, shit!" she cursed, "I-I don't know what to do! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry but I don't know how to help." She slammed her palms into her forehead, punishing herself. "I'm a stupid... fucking... moron!"

Vince hushed her. "Just let us get somewhere safe... and then we'll deal with it." He let out a harsh breath punctuated by pain as the blood kept dripping from his body. His eyes fell on her disfigured right hand and he smirked. "Hey... guess this... makes us even, though... right?"