Arthur's eyes opened and saw a familiar anger reflecting back at him. In those eyes piercing through him there was something more though. There was an incensed passion, a selfish need that couldn't be express and yet at the sametime there was nothing. The infected - once a woman in marred, prim clothing - pounced upon him, making him recoil and both tumble over the abandon crate he had used for cover. On top of him, her teeth snarled and chattered at him. Saliva glided down the corner of her lips, dropping down on his face.
He fought for a brief period, only to face an unforeseen and unnatural strength.
And then there was nothing except gunshots and a timid whimper echoing in his ears. She collapsed to his side, while Lenny skid to his other and aided him back to his feet.
"Lenny, Arthur come on!" a familiar voice called that drowning under consistent groaning and moans advancing closer.
Arthur's stare balanced between the coming herd of infected, trampling over their fallen companions and the sheriff's office where Javier was springing onto the jail cell's roof. John was shooting at an infected that was was creeping from the north side. Two bullets tore through its chest. He seemed proud only to realize there was no effect.
"Shoot the head, John!" called Javier from above while offering Charles a hand.
"Never mind that, son." Dutch released a single bullet from his revolver, sailing straight through the infected's head. He hauled John into Javier's dangling hand. "John, get up there! Arthur come on!"
Arthur walked lamely towards with Lenny covering him.
"You alright?" inquired Dutch.
"Just my leg. I'll be fine. Come on, you get up there," assured Arthur and gave him a hoist. The ache in his leg matured, making it unable to stop from wincing. "Lenny, get over here."
Lenny steadily shook his head that was peering over his shoulder every few seconds. "No, you go, Arthur."
Arthur's hand roused to stop him, but Lenny was persisted.
He liked that about him, he liked the kid all in all. Time like now though they didn't need the delay from a preserved attitude.
"You go first, you're injured!" he pressed.
Arthur grumbled while taking Dutch's grasp and sighing, "Alright."
He turned around upon reaching the roof of the cells. Lenny lingered down below, shooting with a trembling hand below the stock of his rifle that jeopardized his aim. The infected were growing closer, and by the time Lenny finally reached out for Arthur, they were rushing towards him with arms out.
Arthur lifted him a few inches off the ground, only to be lugged down by the tight grasp of an infected. His rifle fell from his clutch by the sudden pull, evoking his legs to clash around until the hand withdrew. There Lenny was dangling from Arthur's hand while the other searched for his revolver, only to meet crimping fingers reaching out for him.
"John!" called Morgan. "Come on, help me get Lenny up!"
Disregarding his targets from the east way, John scrambled to the edge. His arms wrapped around Lenny's shoulder, while attempting to heave him up.
"Please," quavered the kid and kicked another infected. "Please, don't let me die!"
"You ain't going to die, kid!" Arthur assured and glanced towards John. "Marston, damn it, pull!"
A unison roar broke through, as both towed the man higher and seized him from the infected. They stumbled back as Lenny's legs scrambled onto the roof. He collapsed onto his back, inhaling the stench corrupted air. The burning buildings from the south were dimming, but the sent of scorched wood and melting paint was pungent. And the infected, their aroma was poison to the lung. But Lenny breathed it all in, with a hand upon his chest, felling the rise and the drop just to assure himself he was alive.
"Thank you….Arthur and John," he gurgled.
Waving him off, Arthur sprung to his feet and reclaimed his rifle. "Relax, kid...just let yourself rest. You did good."
He obeyed without much of a struggle and he rested until the gray in the sky dimmed to night. Javier had fired the last shot - the last bit of ammo any of them had - and the last infected fall upon the pile below. One final moan and it was all over.
Though weary, Dutch's back slide against the roof's panels with eyes wide on nothing.
"What...uh...what we do, Dutch?" inquired Arthur as he overlooked the carnage.
His mind fell back to when they first arrived. There was a deceptive hope. The train station and the stables were steadily burning. Outskirt homes were deserted and vandalized. Wagons were overturned. Lifeless. The only thing left in that town was an eerie tranquility, that was quickly replaced as they reached the main road. That's where they waited.
Now they laid in that same spot.
The bodies of infected stretched down the main road, while a few scattered down the south entrance by the cut - rate saloon. Several more rested at the north.
"We came here for supplies," reminded Dutch as he roused to his feet and holstered his revolver. "Now sons, we get what we need from the merchant and we get ammo. Lot of it."
"We should get medicine too," advised Charles.
"Yes, medicine as well. If you would be so kind as to collect the horses, Mr. Smith." Though the oldest of all of them, Dutch took the lead and sprung from the roof first. Javier followed behind with that consistent loyalty and Charles tried to help Lenny, only to be shoved away. When Arthur reached the ground, he could hear Dutch's words drifting from the corner. "Follow me boys."
"You alright, Morgan?" John asked, noting the progressive hobbling from his companion.
"Just hurt my leg when that thing almost got me." Silence came as they continued pass stores, until reaching the main saloon. "You alright, Lenny?"
"I'm fine," he snapped.
Though he suspected Lenny's bitterness came as a veil for his humiliation, Arthur didn't press. Dutch was already shooting the lock of the general store door and flashing a pleased grin once it opened.
"Take all you can gentlemen," he directed as he took to the produce or what hadn't spread across the floor. John and Arthur managed the can goods, crowding their satchels til they were fit to burst. Charles was still collecting the mares when they reached the doctor's office. Nothing remained but a few bottles. It was upon reaching the gun shop he joined them, with a growing inpatients. Night was creeping in like a thief, stealing valuable time and light to illuminate the road back home. They couldn't risk anymore delay, never realizing one was already outside waiting.
Hello my lovely readers!
I can't express how thankful I am for all the follows and favorites and amazing reviews! You guys are so damn perfect! I hope this chapter was good...maybe mediocre at best! This one was tougher than I thought it was going to be so I might come back to fix it, bury it, burn it, something along those lines. Also I've come to find Dutch a difficult character to write, he's so charismatic and I once was doing a presentation in middle school about religion and fasting and accidentally said fisting. You see my problem?
Anyways guys, until next time! Review, follow or favorite if you like or don't! I ain't your boss! Just remember you guys are awesome.
