A thank you goes to TeamXtremexfan, and Alanna of Stormhold for following the story!
Another thank you goes to , Alanna of Stormhold for adding to favorite stories!
Lastly, a huge hug and thanks goes Alanna of Stormhold for adding me to their favorite authors!
THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO TOOK THE TIME!
It's been a while, I know. Normally I don't like reading excuses but I'm going to have to give mine since it will be a while until the next chapter as well:
I lost my job, got kicked out of my parent's house. I'm currently living with my boyfriend in which we can't afford internet so I don't have any at this time. Because of that, I've been doing nothing but writing. This chapter is going to be long - think of it as an apology chapter.
Please Review - Much Love, Julie Jay
Previously on I Caught Myself:
Shaking his head, Rick ran his hands over his face. Lifting his heavy head up to look around once again, that's when Rick noticed it. In the distance stood a human figure masked in shadows. Following his stare, Stephanie squinted to see a man walking slowly in their direction, coming up the block. Shielding his eyes against the sun, Rick raised a hand, giving a wave. Swiftly pulling his hand down, Stephanie threw the can to the ground. "Are you crazy?" Steph asked, panicked. Grabbing her rifle, Stephanie handed it to her friend. "Now-a-days Rick, you need to be careful. Not everyone you see is alive." This confused the ex-sheriff, and he cocked his head. Following Steph to the duffle bag, holding out the rifle, he spoke.
"And why would I need this?" he asked, still confused. Just as Stephanie turned to respond, she saw a figure with a shovel behind her friend.
"Rick! Look out!"
Watching the shovel come down over his head, Stephanie swiftly pulled another rifle out from her duffle bag, pointing it at the cause of Rick's injury. A child. A dark-skinned child stood before her with his hands in the air. His chocolate brown eyes stared down the barrel as Stephanie just stared back in awe. Lowering her weapon, she slowed her breathing. Placing her rifle in her jeans, Stephanie mimicked his actions, indicating that she would cause no harm. Taking a step back, the boy began to look around. Holding a finger to her lips, Stephanie gave him the universal sign to be quiet. She didn't want to take any chances with the flesh-eating sons of bitches headed their way. But as Stephanie bent down to make sure her friend was okay, the boy began calling out for his father.
"Carl?" Her head snapping his way, Rick's eyes began to flutter open. Letting out a soft groan, Rick placed a hand behind his head, caressing the now wounded area. Putting a soft hand on his chest, Stephanie lowered herself enough so she was a few inches away. Using her other hand, she lifted his eyelids and watched as his pupils instinctively shrank. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she determined her friend would be okay.
As the child continued to call for his father, Stephanie grabbed Rick's hand and did her best to haul him up. Finally the child stopped yelling, and Stephanie saw his father standing behind his son, a small shot gun in his hand. As a walking creature approached them, the father placed the nozzle of the shot gun to its head and pulled the trigger. They all watched as the limb body fell to the ground with a small thud. Averting her gaze back to the father, she was surprised to see the .38 revolver being pointed in her direction. Holding up her hands, Stephanie tensed as Rick stood in front of his friend, protecting her. Mimicking Steph's hand movements, Rick looked to the father, his eyes pleading. "We mean you no harm," he said sternly, almost authoritative. It took the older man a few moments before lowering his weapon, and as soon as he did, Stephanie let out the breath she had held in.
"What's the bandage for?" the father asked with just as much authority as Rick. Raising a brow, Rick looked down to where he had been shot as Stephanie took a step to view what was happening. "Hey, you deaf? What kind of wound!" Stephanie could hear the rage in the man's voice, but in his eyes were fear. And she didn't blame him for being scared; he had a child to protect. As Steph placed a calm hand on Rick's shoulder, she could sense he was trying to remember. "Answer me dammit! What's you wound? Tell me or I'll kill you!" Rick took a step back as the man took a step forward. But as his foot hit the ground, his knees gave out. Stephanie and the two others watched while Rick hit the ground, cold. Just as Steph was about to follow him, the man raised his revolver closer to her. "Do not move!" Once again, holding her hands up, Stephanie felt her heart racing.
"Look, he was shot – that's what the wound is. He wasn't bitten," Steph explained – her voice lightly trembling. The man quickly eyed her before looking to his son. They stared at each other and spoke through their eyes. As they occupied themselves, Stephanie took a step toward Rick and glanced toward his direction; he was still breathing. Finally, the man let his hand fall to his side, allowing Stephanie to join her friend.
-X- -X-
His eyes fluttering slightly, Rick was welcomed back to reality with the slight glow from a candle. Stephanie sat by his legs, he spotted, and realized that he was lying on a bed. Lifting his hand to his head, Rick wondered how he ended up where he was. As his eyes adjusted to the faint light, Rick noticed the windows were covered with blankets, faint light from the sun seeping through the edges. The father was at the bureau, stripping off Platex gloves before washing his hands in a bowl of water. The son was with Stephanie, peering at the officer over the footboard. "Got that bandage changed out-" the father started, realizing Rick was awake. "- was pretty rank." Rick said nothing while his gaze moved to Stephanie. She gave him a small look of reassurance. "Your girlfriend here said your wound was a gunshot?"
"She's not my girlfriend," Rick interrupted, looking to the father. Stephanie also let her eyes travel to the man, a raised brow.
"My apologies – I just assumed." Staying where he was, the dark-skinned man crossed his arms, examining the officer. "Looks like you had some doctor work on you, that right?"
"Must have," Rick answered back, keeping his eyes on Stephanie. The dark haired woman looked like she needed to sleep with the dark bags under her eyes. Her light eyes stared back at his, worry being the only visible emotion.
"Anything else?" Pulling his eyes away from hers, Rick looked to the father once again, disgusted.
"Gunshot ain't enough?" Rick asked harshly. The man approached the officer, tense and pissed.
"Look. I ask, you answer. Common courtesy." He leaned in closer to Rick as if talking to a child. "Did. You. Get. Bit?"
"Bit?" Rick asked, confused.
"Bit. Chewed. Maybe scratched. Anything like that?" It was obvious the man was beginning to get impatient with the officer. Finally fed up with the way the man was treating the two of them, Stephanie got up and blocked Rick from his path. Rising up his weapon, the father took a step back as he pointed his gun to her.
"You can point that gun in my face all you want but it's not going to make a difference. As far as we know it is only a gunshot wound; not a bite or a scratch. He's not going to become one of them." The man's weapon didn't lower until the man was almost positive it was okay and safe. Beckoning for his son to join him, the father headed for the door.
"We'll see." And with that, the man closed the door behind him, locking it from the outside. Closing her eyes, Stephanie ran her hands down her face, wishing the stress would leave her body. They had enough to worry about, and now they were being held inside a room like they were prisoners. Shaking her head, Stephanie turned to look at Rick and sighed. All her weapons were with the man and Majesty was gone; eaten by the flesh eating monsters. Faintly she could hear the moans and grunts from outside; there were more of them now.
"What happened while I was out, Steph?" Rick sat up, his legs swinging over the side of the bed. This conversation was one that she didn't want to have, but Rick needed to know the truth. If there was any chance of survival, he needed to be updated with the way life was now. Walking to the bed, Stephanie sat next to Rick, moving her body so she was halfway facing her friend.
"I don't know where or when it started but I was at my office when it happened. I was about to go to my boss's office to have a conversation about a promotion when screaming was heard from a few doors down. A few colleagues and I went to check it out, we saw a good friend of ours dead with the janitor eating her. Everyone ran and fled from the office but no one knew the outside was worse than what was happening inside." Stephanie let out sigh as the memories began to disturb her. "The streets were filled with complete chaos; cars were crashing into each other, people were running in all directions. It hit the cities the hardest, then it went to the small towns. There were rumors the government started the contamination to control the population, but it got out of hand." Putting a hand over Rick's, Stephanie shrugged. "What you're seeing now is the after-math of a viral outbreak. Men are no longer men but flesh-eating creatures." Quickly Stephanie stopped talking. She knew Rick needed a minute to process everything she had just revealed. Whether he believed it or not, that was up to him.
"Lori and Carl?" Was all that he could say. The thought that they were dead or hurt by one of those creatures pained him. With a shrug, Stephanie shook her head.
"Whether they are alive or not, I don't know. But I'll help you find them." With a warm hand on his shoulder, Stephanie flashed a reassuring smile his way. Rick nodded and swung his arm around her shoulders, bringing her into a side hug. Carefully, Stephanie wrapped arms around his torso, leaning against him. It wasn't long until Stephanie's eyes closed shut and her mind drifted off to dreamland. As she fell asleep, Rick moved her body onto the bed before pacing the room. They needed out from their four wall confinement, but how? The man didn't seem to be too friendly; then again he had no reason to – they were strangers. Running a hand through his hair, Rick's gaze fell upon the window. He was curious to see what was out there – what exactly she was meaning when she said 'flesh-eating creatures'. Just as he was about to move the curtain, the lock came off from the door, the wooden barrior opening slowly. The faint glow of candlelight from the outer room spilled through the room. Faint sounds off a spoon stirring and utensils being laid out could be heard. As a candle appeared in the doorway, Rick walked over to the bed – sitting on it.
The father peered in the room and quietly entered as his eyes lay upon the sleeping woman. Pulling out a chair to the bed, he sat in it across from Rick. Clear as day, the officer saw the gun tucked in the man's belt, ready. The son hovered in the doorway – holding a baseball bat. Placing the candle on the nightstand, the father reached a hand for Rick's forehead; the cop flinched. "Let me," he said quietly. Rick settled and allowed the man to place his hand on his forehead, feeling his temperature. After a long beat, their eyes locked. "You're cool enough; fever would have killed you by now."
"I didn't think I had one," Rick responded sarcastically. The father gave the officer a hard look before pulling out a sharp knife.
"This knife. Take a moment, a good hard look at how sharp it is. You try anything, I'll kill you – don't think I won't." With his eyes still on the knife, Rick nodded, understanding. The officer would have done the same thing if the tables were turned and it was him protecting his child. "Whenever you and your friend are ready, there's soup in the other room." And with that, the father got to his feet and left. Moving his gaze to Stephanie, Rick watched as she slept peacefully. The woman looked content in her expression, but her body said otherwise. She was thin, almost too thin, and her clothes were dirty along with her skin. That's how the man and his son looked as well. Deciding to leave Stephanie sleep, Rick got up and moved into the living room. With a blanket over his shoulder, Rick moved slowly around the room, analyzing it. He was no longer in his house but the room still seemed familiar.
"This place. Fred and Sally Werner's?" the officer asked as he peered over to the father and son.
"Don't know," the dark-skinned man answered as he prepared the table.
"Neighbors. Few doors up."
"Never met them." Rick could sense the father's irritation, but he continued with his recognition of the house. Looking around, Rick knew he'd been in the house once before. He wasn't sure if it was because of his job or other reasons – but the house was familiar.
"I've been here before. This is their place," he confirmed as his eyes feel on a picture of the couple.
"It was empty when we got here. Picked it because of the small windows; easier to board up." Moving his head to look at the windows, he saw blankets duct-taped over the front window. Reaching his hand out, Rick felt the boards nailed across the window under the blankets. Outside, the officer heard more distant groaning. The viewing slits were safely-pinned together, and while he reached for it, the father protested. "Don't. They'll see the light." Turning, Rick noticed the men watching him warily. "There's more of them out there than usual. I shouldn't have fired that shot today." Realizing the officer had no idea what he was talking about, the man continued. "Sound draws them. Now they're all over our street." The father and son took their seats at the table – the son still watching Rick. "Stupid using the gun. Happened too fast; I didn't think." Scrunching his face, Rick put up a hand in confusion.
"You didn't think?" he asked, slightly appalled at the man.
"No, I should have used the baseball bat instead. My mistake." Looking up to Rick, the man noticed his confused expression. "What?"
"You shot that man today," Rick pointed out, his inner officer coming out.
"Man?" Exchanging glances with his son, the man shook his head.
"Weren't no man," the son replied as he moved to face the officer.
"What the hell was that out of your mouth just now? Son, you speak English, I know you do." Rick stared at the father and child, astounded. He couldn't understand how a man who committed murder was so calmly correcting his son's grammar.
"I saw you. You shot him in the street out front. A man," Rick protested. He knew what he saw – he wasn't blind.
"It wasn't a man, Rick. Those things are called Walkers." Stephanie appeared from the bedroom, looking even worse than she did before. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms to look at Rick. "That wasn't a man, it was a Walker." Eyeing her closely, Rick couldn't understand.
"Can you both sit please; it looks like he's about to fall over." Nodding toward Rick, Stephanie pushed herself off the wood and made her way to the table. The officer sat next to his friend but his mind wasn't with her. 'What did I wake up to?' he mentally asked himself. The father held out his hand for his son to take and his other for Stephanie, the son holding his out for Rick. The two looked at the hands being offered to them before realizing what was happening. Once all hands were occupied and heads were bowed, the father began. "Father, we thank thee for this food, Thy blessings, and ask You to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen." Everyone at the table repeated before digging in. Stephanie was grateful for something in her stomach, but the father interrupted. "What's wrong with you anyway? You even know what's going on?" Averting her gaze to Rick, she watched as he struggled to pick up the spoon.
"I woke up today in the hospital. Came home; that's all I know," Rick answered still struggling with the spoon. Setting hers down, Stephanie picked his up, filled it with the soup, and placed the metal to his lips.
"He know about the dead people?" the father asked Steph.
"Saw a lot of that -" Rick answered. "- stacked like firewood out on the loading dock, piled in trucks and even tossed down stairwells." The image of the hospital flashed in Steph's mind, causing her to cringe. But the man shook his head.
"Not the ones they put down; the ones they didn't," he corrected.
"The other ones," the son added - his mouth full.
"The other ones?" Rick inquired, looking to Stephanie.
"The Walkers," the man informed Rick, but the officer still didn't understand. "Like the one I shot. He'd have ripped into you, tried to eat you or taken some flesh at least; that's what they do." The man paused to take a few bites from his food while Rick simply sat frozen, trying desperately to let his words sink in. "I'm surprised your friend here didn't tell you about it, but I know how this all must sound."
"Insane," Rick confessed with a nod. "We saw a woman." Rick turned his head to Stephanie, remembering the torn creature. "At the park today. She … looked at me and reached out." The man nodded without hesitation while he continued eating. "They're out there now? In the street?"
"They get more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it's the cool air, or hell maybe it's just me firing that damn gun today." Rick turned to look at the windows, Stephanie following suit. Never had she been surrounded by so many Walkers before; this made her very uncomfortable. She mentally kicked herself for not moving her and Rick out of that house faster. "Should be fine long as we stay quiet and they don't figure out we're in here. They'll probably wonder off by morning." Rick searched the father and son's faces, trying to make sense of it all. "They were saying on the news it was some kind of virus; they were guessing. There was a whole lot of that going on with all those experts looking scared down to their socks." The father put his spoon down as he spoke – his elbows on the table. "The broadcasts stopped and that's the last we heard. That was a few weeks ago." Putting a hand over Rick's, Stephanie gave it a light squeeze. "One thing I do know? Don't get bit. I saw your bandage; that's what I was afraid of. Bites kill you, fever burns you out. After a while you come back – hungry."
"Seen it happen," the boy joined in with a quiet voice. Stephanie knew there was a story behind his words, but she didn't press on it. The room fell with silence as the survivors ate the cool soup. So many questions buzzed through both Stephanie and Rick's mind, but they both kept their mouths shut as the father finished his soup, putting his plate away in the sink – his son following. While Rick's mind wrapped around the information that was fed to him, his appetite slowly began to dissipate. Laying his spoon down, the officer excused himself and went back into the bedroom. Finding himself on the bed, his hands traveled to his face – covering it. Rick didn't want to believe it; he didn't want to believe his family was gone. A few knocks came from the door and Rick looked up to find Stephanie at the doorway. A small smile was briefly flashed from her lips before her small body began moving toward him – sitting next to him on the bed. "You okay?" Stephanie asked her friend in a meek tone. The officer wasn't sure how to answer that question. No he was not okay with the thought of his wife and child dead, or even them roaming around the vast Georgia landscape alone without his protection in this new and messed up world. Rick wasn't okay with being treated like a common criminal. But yes, Rick was okay with the fact that he was still alive – and he was very thankful. Rick was also okay that Stephanie was there to help him.
The officer guessed Stephanie sensed his hesitation to answer when she placed a hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek, moving his face to look at her. "Hey, I promise we will find your wife and son. Everything will be fine." Though she wasn't all too convinced the truth of her own words, Steph still wanted to be supportive. Unlike Rick, Stephanie didn't have anyone to look for or anyone to hope was still alive. Well, she did have one more family member that might still be alive, but he wasn't high on her 'like' list. Thinking about her brother, Stephanie let her hands fall back to her lap – she hoped with everything in her he was dead.
Feeling Rick's hand on hers, Stephanie looked up to find his brown eyes smiling tenderly her way. "Thank you Steph. I'm not sure what I'd do if you hadn't found me at the hospital." Matching his smile, the dark-haired woman leaning into him, his arms wrapping around her.
-X- -X-
Daylight vanished and the survivors were welcomed with a night time sky with a bright moon and stars to match. Inside the house, the group re-assembled into the living room. The mattresses from the bedrooms laid on the hardwood floor covered in blankets and sleeping bags – one long candle was lit. The son was tucked against his father, sleeping fitfully while the adults were wide awake. Outside the house, dozens of Walkers littered and roamed the streets aimlessly along the streets. Weird groans and snarls were heard, with the occasional thump. Resting her upper body against the couch, Stephanie wrapped her arms around herself. Rick lying next to his friend stared at the ceiling. The father watched the both of them – trying to make sense f the new people. "Carl – is he your son?" the man asked earning a look from Rick. "You said his name today. And I saw that in your pocket." Instinctively reaching in his pocket, Rick pulled his get-well card from his son out of his robe. Smiling at the crayon lettering, Rick nodded.
"He's about your boy's age," Rick answered, keeping his gaze on the card.
"He with his mother?" Now Stephanie looked up to the dark-skinned man. She wondered how a father could ask such a question; what if Carl was dead and Rick knew it? Why would he want Rick to re-live those feelings? And also, how did he know she wasn't the mother?
"I hope so," Rick whispered, putting the card away back in his pocket.
"Me too," Stephanie heard the man whisper before she turned her head away from them. The moon's light spilled through the cracks on the window, giving Steph a slight comfort.
"Did you ask him?" the son whispered to his father, his eyes still closed. The father couldn't help but smile at his son, his gaze finding Stephanie's confused look.
"The gunshot. We got a bet going; my boy says you're a bank robber." Both Stephanie and Rick let out a small chuckle.
"Yeah that's me. Deadly as Dillinger. Ka-Pow!" Rick shook his head, a small smile still on his face. It was a relief to see a child with such an imagination even after everything that's happened. "Police officer," he corrected with a nod. The father smiled, which Stephanie guessed meant he was right in the bet. Finally realizing they never exchanged names, Stephanie opened her mouth to speak but just as she did, a car alarm started blaring outside – causing the son to jerk fully awake with a gasp. With everyone's stares toward the direction of the sound, the father spoke to his son, comforting him.
"One of them must have bumped a car," the father announced.
"You sure?" Was instantly thrown out from Steph's lips. During her time alone, Steph never once stayed inside a house – it never seemed safe enough. Staying inside the house to sleep terrified her.
"Happened once before. Went for a few minutes." The men traded looks, hearts pounding. Both men were uncertain which didn't help settle Steph's fears on sleeping. As if they had a wordless agreement, both men rose to their feet, blew out the candle, and moved to the front window – to the duct taped blanket. Moving to her feet, Stephanie joined the scared child, wrapping a safe arm around him. Watching the men, she witnessed the father carefully undoing the safety-pins of the viewing slit. He opened it just a few inches, just enough to see out. It was a dark street. Figures moving around, walking aimlessly. Some moved and turned in the direction of the car alarm; a vehicle parked down the street. "That Honda down the street; same one as last time," the father mumbled, mostly to himself. Easing aside, Rick moved in place of the dark-skinned man, peering out the window. Quietly, Stephanie held the son's hand in hers, moving them to see as well. "I think we're okay." The father moved behind his son, placing his hands on his shoulders.
"That sound -" Rick started as he moved to look at the man. Stephanie took a step forward, peering out to the street, the car lights blinking as the alarm sounded. "-won't it attract move of them?"
"Nothing we can do about it now," the man shrugged. "Just wait it out 'til morning." It was at that moment a sharp intake of breath came from the son; a look of terror and sorrow washed over him.
"She's here," he whispered. Instantly, the father reacted – he moved Stephanie aside to confirm what his son announced.
"Don't look, Duane. Just get away from the window." Quickly, Stephanie gripped the child's shoulder and escorted him to the mattress. The boy threw himself down to the bed, burying his face in his hands. The father hurried after his son while Rick was left at the window, staring at Stephanie – puzzled. Shrugging to him, Steph looked down as the father gathered his son in his arms. Huddled in his chest, Duane began crying. Still confused, Rick turned and peered out the window once again. Outside, a Walker drifted up the lawn toward the house – a woman. Her skin, once black, was now the color of a dead fish. Pulling back from the window, Rick raised a brow. 'It's like she knows we're inside,' he thought. In fact, as he watched, she changed course from the window and drifted toward the front door. As he lost sight of her, Rick left the window and eased to the door instead. He simply listened – barely breathing. Putting his eye to the peephole, he witnessed the same female Walker standing outside the door, wildly distorted in the fish-eye effect. Turning her head, it seemed like she was also listening. She reached her hand out to the door and scratched softly at it.
Across the room the father tightly held his son. Grabbing a pillow, he handed it to the child. "Gotta be quiet now, Duane. Cry into the pillow." The scratching stopped, but in replace, the door knob slowly began to turn back and forth. Unfortunately for the Walker, the door was also boarded up with wood and tough nails. Rick backed away from the door as Steph walked toward him. Slowly and quietly walking back to their original spots, the duo sank to the floor. Everyone's gazes were glued to the knob; their eyes reverted to the doorknob revolving slowly, compulsively. For just a brief second the officer looks over, seeing tears shimmering in the father's eyes. "She died in the other room. On that bed in there. Nothing I could do. That fever. Her skin gave of heat like a furnace." The doorknob continued to shaking wildly. "I should have put her down. I know that. But. I didn't have it in me. The mother of my child." And it's clear: he hates himself for it.
