Chapter Three: The Girl with the Phoenix Tattoo
"Could I perhaps, borrow some soap?" I inquire, bashfully. "Some soap?" Carol asks in return, shooting me a quizzical look. "Well for washing up of course," I state, matter-of-factly. "Oh," she replies, nodding in understanding. She smiles and meanders off to retrieve the soap for me so that I could bathe for the first time in what was probably weeks. I sniff my shirt and inhale the scent of blood, sweat, and something that mysteriously smells like dirty socks. "So, Savannah is it?" Shane asks, sneaking up behind me. I jolt in surprise, "Apparently," I respond, eyeing his figure suspiciously. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes are glaring straight into mine, with a look of displeasure. "You said before that you had amnesia, right?" he asks, the distrusting glint still placed within his eyes. "Yes, I still do. I can't remember anything, just flashes of certain things," I answer, wishing that Carol would hurry up with that bar of soap.
"Certain things like what?" he queries. "I don't know just random things that could have happened before. I can see flickers of reanimated corpses and dead bodies scattering the city, things like that," I state, my eyes darting around the scenery nervously. He can't know that I had cancer before. He would be the first person to send me packing, or put a gun to my throat for that matter. "I remember back when I used to be a cop alongside Rick. We got a house call from a woman claiming that her husband had beaten her and that she was growing fearful for her own life. By the time we get there we find the woman dead on the floor, beaten into a bloody pulp. The husband was also there, standing over her with blood smeared all over his hands," he explains, moving his large body closer towards mine. I step back slightly, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Now tell me," he begins, smiling a sharp deadly smile as deadly as a blade. "Do you think that we believed him when he said that he didn't remember a thing?" he asks, centimeters away from my face. "Look, I don't know what your problem is but you need to find someone else to mess with, because I'm not playing these stupid mind games," I retort, practically spitting in his face.
Before he could even mutter another angry word, Carol interrupts us, bringing the bar of soap I asked for earlier. "Thank you Carol," I say, graciously. I ignore Shane's furious expression and shove past him to get to the lake. As I leave, I can hear Shane shouting angry words towards Rick about how I didn't deserve to be here. I don't know this Shane person very well and to be quite honest, I don't want to. He certainly rubs me the wrong way. He has no right to say who does or does not belong in this group. Despite all of that, I am willing to prove to Rick and all of them that I am useful and that I do deserve to belong. I sigh and smile, as I finally reach the lake. It's wide, expansive and a dark muddy color, but it is still H2O all the same. I can't wait to dip my whole body in its soothing waters and clean off all of the disgusting zombie guts plastered to my clothes. I strip all my clothes off and shuffle into the water slowly, shivering from the cold. I take a deep breath and dunk my head in, fully submersing myself in the water.
The cool temperature shocks my system, causing my skin to shiver uncontrollably. As my body adjusts to the water, I bask in its overwhelming calming quality. I float towards the surface and begin to rub my body leisurely with the bar of soap. I watch as the dirt runs off of my body in thick dark streams. I close my eyes and lay back, lounging along with the water. Finally, I am relaxed enough to let my guard down. I hear a cracking noise coming from the forest and suddenly I'm alerted into an upright position. Well, so much for relaxing now. I stare into the trees, anxious as to what could be making the noise. I see my knife, lying next to my jeans about 15 feet away from me. I can reach it in time if I swim fast enough. I ready myself to swim to shore, until I can finally witness what was making the noises that forewarned me in the woods.
A pair of antlers peaks out from the brush and I sigh, immensely relieved. It's just a deer. My taut muscles relax as I fall back into the water, letting myself unwind once again. I turn my head to the side, smiling at this peaceful moment since they seem to be very far and between these days. I even laugh due to the silliness of confusing a cute deer for one of those deadly walkers. Unexpectedly, I feel something grab me from within the water and pull me under. I shout and thrash out, viciously trying to fend off my attacker. I open my eyes underwater and scream. A putrid walker with mouth wide open, jaws gnashing, clings onto my arm rigorously. I attempt to pry its grip from me but I struggle underneath the water, kicking out at the walker's stomach. Water pours into my mouth from shouting in a panic. I blink excruciatingly, finding it hard to breath. Finally, I tear the walker's hands from my arm and kick my way back up towards the surface. I gasp for air and swim as fast as I can to shore, my eyes trained solely on my knife, strategically placed atop my pants.
The walker abruptly grabs onto my ankle, trying to pull me back underneath into the murky abyss beneath. The walker cries out in anger as an arrow flies straight into its eye. I stare up towards the shore and see Daryl, cross-bow held in his hand, taking aim to shoot the walker in the head this time. The arrow hits its target and the walker falls back, floating upon the surface, like a crocodile, sinking sluggishly into the lake's dark waters. I shiver out of fear and because of the sudden cold, as I jump out of the water and away from the walker's inanimate body. Daryl stares at me curiously, trailing his eyes up and down my body. I look down at myself and remember that I'm fully naked. I glance away self-consciously and cover my breasts from his line of sight. "Turn around!" I order, blushing fiercely. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and turns around as I pull my clothes back on, hurriedly. "Jesus woman, what were you 'thinkin?" he demands, waiting impatiently for me to dress completely.
I roll my eyes behind his back as I pull my shirt over my head. "I don't know, I was probably thinking that I felt disgusting and wanted to feel clean," I reply, zipping up my pants. I grip my knife firmly and slip it into my back pocket, protectively. "Without a weapon, you got a death wish don't you?" he scolds, turning around to face me. I frown and stare up into his dark green eyes, irritated by his admonishment. Finally, I sigh and admit defeat, "I know. It was irresponsible to be without my knife, even for a second," I state, agreeing with him. He stares at me, questioningly, "I'm not always 'gonna be around to save your ass from getting killed by walkers you know," he reprimands, bending over to load his crossbow. "You only saved me once Daryl, I would highly count that as always," I tease, heading back towards camp. He licks his thin lips nervously and wipes some stray sweat from his brow, moving the long strands of dark hair away from his sun-kissed face. I study him curiously and notice his sudden apprehension. "Come on now, we're going into the city today to find my brother," he states, attempting to sound complacent. "They never told me who found me in the woods," I say, "It was you, wasn't it?" I ask, smiling smugly.
He stands still as a stone, with his back turned towards me. He glances over his shoulder, "What does the tattoo on your shoulder mean?" he asks his eyes boring into mine. I stay silent, not wanting to respond. "I'll admit that I saved your ass when you tell me what that tattoo means," he offers, wandering off into the forest, leaving me behind to wonder what else he noticed about me besides my tattoo.
