The scent of clean sheet was one I hadn't smelled until now. Waking in a bed hadn't been normal for a long time, and yet now here it was. The bed was softer than I could remember one being, and the warmth of the sheets undeniable. A part of me wanted to roll over, to cover my face with a pillow and forget the outside world. For a moment, it was as if the world went back to the way it was. It seemed possible that Walkers had just been a nightmare. What crushed that dream was the lack of movement in my leg. Panic gripped me, pulling me back into the nightmare that was the present. The realization that I couldn't move my leg was affecting my judgment.
Tearing the blankets from the bed, I sat up enough to see my leg. The bandage around it extended from my ankle to my knee. The thickness of the bandages seemed an attempt to replace a cast, as any movement was impossible. I wanted out of this place, as I couldn't even remember how I got there. Sure it was safe from Walkers, but people were just as dangerous now. Once the Walkers started, people began to revert back to nothing more than beasts. Families had turned on each other with the fragile hope of surviving another day. Friends were impossible to come by, and no one trusted a stranger to enter their home. Whatever I was doing here, the people had to be crazy or downright stupid.
Searching for my knife, I found they'd taken it. Maybe the people weren't as stupid as originally thought; at least they knew I had it. Doing a quick search of my clothing, all my other items had been left alone. None of the items had much value anymore to others, but to me they were all I had. Moving without much use of my leg was tougher than I had expected, and leaving the room was turning out to be harder than it seemed. The few feet to the door seemed like miles, as even getting my balance took time. After a few steps using the wall for support, I got the hang of walking again. Finding the door unlocked, it was easy to travel through the house. Initially there had been a choice which direction to go, but hearing the voices of others made the decision easier.
My movements were slow, much too slow to surprise anyone in the house. Surprising them had never really been an option, but I was sick of the unknown. They must have heard me, as the hallway was soon blocked at one end. Their bodies blocked any light that had been in the hallway, and I was forced to stop walking. To my surprise I recognized two of them, but how I knew them I wasn't sure. It was as if I recognized the face, but had forgotten where I'd seen it before. "You shouldn't be walking so soon Sarah." He knew my name, and it took me aback. "How do you know who I even am? Why am I here?" The man looked back presumably at the others he'd been talking to and shook his head.
When he looked back at me I noticed his features, even in the darkness of the hallway. He was tall considering his nice build, but what was especially captivating was the sincerity in his eyes. "Don't you remember? You were in and out of it while we fixed your leg. I'm Rick, and you're here because my buddy thought you were a Walker." I laughed a little at that, something I hadn't done in a long time. "Why'd he think that?" Rick looked behind him, and a man, presumably his buddy shouted something inaudible. When he looked back at me, he started walking towards me again. "Come on, lets get you off that leg at least." His grip was strong, the kind of grip that relays a sense of security as well as fear.
Rick led me back to the living room area of the house, and I was quickly settled into the sofa. My leg took up most of it, and I tried to bury it under the cushions. My eyes locked with Rick's friend, as he wouldn't take his eyes off me. "So why'd you mistake me for a Walker and shoot me?" There was no laughter in the man's voice, and almost a nonexistent recognition of my words. "No one is stupid enough to travel alone here. Specially those without a gun." For some reason his words made me look back at Rick, who only seemed to agree. "How did you make it this long on your own?" I looked down at my lap, wanting my knife back. There was a vulnerability with their questions, and it made me mess with my necklace. "Stuck to the woods along the highway, slept up in trees, and only traveled during the day. Only ran into ten or so Walkers, and out of those only three took notice of me."
"You expect me to believe that? You're full of shit, we found only a knife on you. Can't take down Walkers with just a knife." Rick looked over this time at the man, only to have a harshness to his voice. "Knock it off Shane. How'd any of us survive without anybody else?" Shane's eyes met mine again, and then motioned to the bandaged leg. "The bullet fragmented. Had to dig the shards out and we had nothing for the pain. That's probably why you don't remember." With that he just got up and left the room. He wasn't the kind of person I had any urge to get to know. "He always like that? Just so happy to see everybody?" Rick laughed, and then just shook his head. "He's alright, just takes getting use to. Thinks you're a threat, so it'll take awhile."
The thought of being a threat in someone's eyes was a new one. Not only were the threats out there real, but there were worse ones than me. I hated to admit it, but just one meeting with Shane was enough to feel in danger unarmed. "Can I have my knife back? I know it's no gun, but at least I can feel safe too." Rick looked at the door, as if pondering the credibility of Shane's worries. "Yeah, but don't go showing it off." He handed me back the knife, and I concealed where it had been before. "Thanks, look I know I'm going to need something more than this knife…can you help me out there too?" The frustrated look in Rick's eyes told me that I wasn't getting one any time soon.
These were the first people I'd come in contact with since the Walkers invaded the city, and they had weapons. If I couldn't get one from them, then I knew I'd never get one. "Look I can't give you one. You're still a stranger to us, no offense. Tell you what; you need to talk to Daryl. He might be able to spare a few knives of his." I began to stand, and Rick shook his head. Sighing, I refused to back down. "If not now then when?" There was a little smirk, and I could tell he thought I was stubborn. "When you've got a fresh change of clothes. I'll have my wife bring you some. The old ones as you can see are stained with blood." My hands defensively dove into my pockets, earning an odd look from him. "I…I'm okay with these clothes." Standing up, Rick began walking to the door. "Your possessions are safe here, I'll make sure she picks out something with extra pockets for you."
There wasn't much of an option as he left the house. If he had been the one to see all my possession, then he didn't care about them. A part of me felt selfish for hoarding them, but they were all I had left. Not knowing where to wait, I simply stayed on the couch. The living room was a cheerful place, and it seemed oddly out of place. This house was starting to seem more like a sanctuary than a prison though, especially when I had my knife back. They were provided for here, and in time would perhaps accept me as a part of their group. At least I could hope they accepted me, and work on being nice to them as well. They had after all bandaged my wound, even if one of them wanted to leave me for dead. I wasn't going to let that stop me from getting a gun.
