"What the hell are you talking about?" Tobias hissed as he stared up at the devil in front of him, meeting his eyes with immense hatred and feigned innocence. The man laughed, exchanging annoyed glances with his men. They raised their weapons, awaiting their commands, while their leader punched Tobias into the ground, the fallen soldier gasping as his head collided with the snow-laden cement below. The street fell silent, with only the minute clang of metal and brass between the men's fingers reaching their ears.
"Don't act dumb, Tobias, you know exactly who I'm talking about," the bandit purred as he kneeled in front of the injured soldier, the sound of crunching snow emanating through the empty street. "Five of my boys were killed not twelve hours ago, and here you are, pushin' straight into my territory. That makes it pretty fucking clear who's to blame." He seethed, his eyes burrowing into the boy's soul, already searching for his weaknesses to make the ending of his life that much more entertaining. "Hell, a part of me thinks that maybe it was you pricks, thinking that you can fight back, but you're seriously not that stupid, are you Toby?" A wicked smile split across his face as Tobias nursed his cheek, staring at the man in defiance. "No, someone else killed my men, and you took him in. I bet that made him an asset, someone you could trust to put down the big bad Hunters for you." He raised his eyebrows for a moment, laughter escaping his mouth.
"Fuck you!" Tobias cursed, blood spilling out of his mouth as he tried to get back up and swing a punch at the man, only to be restrained by the surrounding bandits as the tall man landed a kick to his stomach, leaving him to collapse into the frozen snow.
"Listen here, you little shit," the leader seethed as he released the pistol from its holster, the cold metal sliding between his skin as his fingers found the trigger. He raised the pistol up to the boy's head and pulled back the hammer with his thumb, letting the click reverberate in his prisoner's ears. "You tell me where the fucking cunt is, and you get to live. Otherwise I'm going to kill you and pay a visit to your camp and find him myself." The devil's ultimatum lingered on his tongue while Tobias sat silent in the snow. He quickly pushed himself up and stared at the man, spitting in his face.
Dominic watched the whole scene from the shadows of the pharmacy. With the craving to help Tobias burning in his hands and feet, but he couldn't save him. The man they had been searching for all this time was only a mere ten feet away from them, and alas, he could do nothing but watch his friend's death sentence, because he knew if he were to step outside, it would be his as well.
Simmons wiped the spit from his face, the collection of wrinkles and skin turning blood-red while his smile only grew wider. "Don't make me remind you about our agreement," the man continued to his prisoner, his tone relaxed, yet sinister.
Agreement?
Dominic's eyes narrowed as he watched Tobias stare at the man, his face contorting from hate to fear in an instant, like a flip of a switch. "I-I have no idea who you're talking about, Simmons."
Well, at least I've got a name to a face. Dominic thought as he watched the man in question's eyebrows furrow before he kicked Tobias in the gut again, the once proud soldier now lying in the snow, with little hope that he would get out of this alive. As his prisoner held back pained yelps, Simmons looked toward the pharmacy, examining it as if the walls would give him the answer he needed. Dominic jumped from the window and hid behind a shelf as soon as the man's eyes pierced the darkness of the store. He dropped the bags of medicine to the floor as quietly as he could before checking the shotgun for any rounds. Damn it, empty. He thought as his fingers struggled to close the chamber. The gun fell to the floor with a faint clatter as Simmons's voice echoed outside.
"Wait a minute, I'm forgetting something." Simmons mused, "Your homeboy Sean said there were two of you out here... so... where's your partner Toby?" He looked down at the cowering soldier as if they were best friends, the seemingly harmless question dripping from his lips.
Shit.
"I-I'm al-!" Tobias started to exclaim with tears held back in his eyes, but it was too late, the man had already seen through his facade.
"Bullshit." The friendly tone was now gone, "check the building, bring me the fucker. I can bet my left nut it's our murderer." He deadpanned.
Dominic peeked out from his hiding place to see two of the bandits walking towards the pharmacy, weapons cocked and ready. Dominic gripped his machete tightly in his hand as he sprinted into the storeroom, closing the door behind him. He grabbed the nearest shelf and barred it in front of the door, the metal scraping against the floor as he used whatever strength he had left. Once the door was blocked, he wasted no time to head straight for the emergency exit at the opposite end of the room, the sliver of light from the door at the end of the room looking like a beacon of hope in a shit storm. He smashed against the door at full speed, his hands colliding with the smooth metal door, only for him to be forced back, his feet skidding against the floor. In confusion, he pushed again, only for nothing to happen; he was trapped.
This isn't happening… this isn't FUCKING happening! He struggled to calm his breathing as he spun around, his vision blinded by the darkness. It was the one advantage he had left, and he was going to use it to kill these fuckers. He shuffled between the row of shelves, inching towards the back of the room, with the sound of muffled footsteps emanating from the other room. Just as the banging and shouting began, it was cut short by the static piercing the storeroom. The radio!
The static barely reached his ears as the bandits kicked at the door, the shelf moving a few centimeters with each dreaded kick. Panicking, he grabbed the radio, his hand trembling while he held down the button.
"Molly! The Hunters ambushed us! They've got-!"
The door flew open as the shelf fell flat on the concrete floor, causing a loud clang as metal met concrete, and the various cans rolling through the room. Light illuminated the front of the storeroom as Dominic quickly tried to turn off the radio, barely catching Molly's panicked voice on the other end before sending the room into silence. The two figures entered the storeroom with guns raised, each intent on getting the kill on the murderer lying within the darkness.
"Come on out dickwad, before you force us to kill you now!" One of the bandits snarled as he aimed his AK-47 down one of the rows. Dominic held his breath as he inched forward, silently hoping he could get behind them. With each silent step, he could hear one of them fumbling with a flashlight, clicking it on and waving it toward where he had just been, and the couple still asleep on their deathbed. Sweat dripped down his face as he turned around the final corner, their backs now in front of him.
His foot found a tin can in the darkness, causing the metal object to make a clanging sound as it skidded across the floor. The bandits instantly spun around, the flashlight blinding Dominic, leaving little time for the boy to charge at the first silhouette he could make out and bring the machete down towards its head. The bandit countered his attack with his rifle, pushing Dominic back before his friend knocked him to the ground with his pistol, yanking away his blade.
Dazed by the sudden hit, Dominic tried to scramble away, his fingers clawing at the floor like a lifeline without a rope to grasp, but the men were faster, grabbing his leg and dragging him towards the door. He fumbled for anything he could find; shelves, cans, boxes, but it was no use. With his heart falling into his stomach and his nails dragging uselessly against the floor, his head fell, sliding with his dignity. His face collided with the lip of the door as he was dragged out into the main floor and out the window, only to be dropped right next to where Tobias sat in the snow, his eyes wide as he stared down at his fallen comrade next to him.
"Well, well, well. Look who it is, the man of the hour," Simmons exploded in delight as the bandits forced the boy to his knees. Dominic took in the man's face as the bandit examined him back. His eyes were a bright green, almost shining with joy. A jet-black beard covered his face, and his teeth were a rotten yellow. Dominic knew this face, it was the man from his visions. The man who was meant to kill him; except the burns that plagued his body before were now painstakingly absent. The man smirked as he took the boy's machete from his subordinates, slicing it through the air right in front of Dominic's nose before kneeling in front of the boy. "You don't look so tough."
"Give me back my machete and I'll show you just how tough I am," Dominic snarled, the hatred in his soul almost palpable in the air. He could smell the man's breath, the foul odor plaguing his nostrils while he stared at his captor. Dominic could sense the warmth of this man's blood pulsing in his veins, and he already pleaded for the crimson liquid to cover his hands.
"Maybe later," the man laughed, returning his gaze to the machete in his hands. He examined it with interest before holding the blade against the boy's neck. Tobias stared in fear as Dominic didn't move, deciding to stare down the man instead. "You're a fearless one, aren't ya?" Simmons chuckled, running the blade against Dominic's shaved neck. "Not even a blade to your throat will scare you." He smiled as he pressed it harder against his neck, a thin layer of blood seeping out of the paper-thin cut, travelling slowly down the center of the boy's neck. "That's okay though, once I'm through with you, you'll be shaking so hard, your dick will fall off."
"Do you realize how gay that sounds?" Dominic muttered, his eyes not leaving Simmons as the man stared back at him just as coldly.
"Don't push me, boy. I already want to kill you, don't give me a reason to do it now before I get the chance to have fun with you." He spat as he stood up and handed the machete to one of his followers.
"The good kind of fun, I hope." Dominic retorted, raising his eyebrow.
A shout filled the air, causing everyone to look up at a bandit standing watch in the bed of the military truck; he was pointing down the road. "Biters!"
The dead stumble towards them like a macabre parade, nearly three hundred strong, as the man smiled once more at his prisoners. "You're lucky, I don't have the time to gut you here," he ignored the angry glares he was receiving from the younger man as he turned back to his group. "Get them in the truck."
"Laundry duty?! For fuck's sake!" Molly watched as the man raked all the clutter off Wolffe's desk and onto the floor; the scrambled papers and knick-knacks joining in fear as they were swept from the desk and into the air, only to collide with the tiled floor, silent and afraid. She stood silent at the command center door while the man in the blue hoodie and black trousers yelled at the sergeant like a stubborn child. The man's hair was short and brown, sticking up in random places as if he had just gotten out of bed mere moments before, with a pair of glasses resting on his nose, one of the lenses cracked through the center. As she listened, she picked up on an accent in his voice she couldn't recognize, but definitely sounded British more than anything. "I've been in this city for a goddamn year and I've done literally nothing!" The man exploded, his hands waving in the air as the soldiers standing around them looked to their leader for direction; most of them wanting nothing more than to throw out the man themselves. "I'm going fucking insane!"
Wolffe released an annoyed sigh and waved off his men as he turned to look at the mess on his floor in disdain. "Listen, kid; the less civilians I have outside the walls, the better," he muttered in as casual of a tone as he could, "we simply have too many people missing as it is."
"I'm going stir crazy here!" The strange man roared, taking a step toward Wolffe's desk; the sound of his pugnacious feet hurling forward signaling the soldiers to raise their weapons. When the strange man saw the cold barrels pointing in his direction, his frenzied mind took a mental step back, considering better options. "Trust me, you don't want me to get stir crazy. Things tend to get bad when I go stir crazy." He sighed, realizing the situation he was in. "Just… let me out. Hell, I could go help find the missing people!" He bellowed.
"Steven, calm down before I make you calm down," Wolffe breathed while he gathered the odds and ends the man had knocked over and placed them back on the desk in the order he had them before returning his gaze to the culprit, a stern look plastered across his face. "Six of my men haven't reported-"
"Your men were captured by the Hunters," Molly interrupted, stepping out of the hallway and into the command center, approaching the scene. Both men turned toward her with mixed reactions as she placed her hand on her hip. "And I'm assuming you know who they are, so point me in the right direction and I'll get your men back." She deadpanned, the sarcasm invading the atmosphere like a poison.
"THANK YOU, SOMEONE AGREES WITH ME!" Steve exclaimed with exasperation, his hands waving around just as emotively as his facial expression. "Well, kind of. I mean, she agrees someone should get out and look. I want to get out. I'll look. Sorted. So, I'm going out to look then?" He gave a confused look at the sergeant with his mix of jumbled phrases, his brain slowly piecing the puzzle together of what just happened.
"Shut up for a damn second!" Wolffe shouted at Steve before he snapped his head toward Molly, who continued to audaciously stare him down. "How do you know the Hunters captured the scavenging team?" He inquired, raising a brow.
"Dominic radioed me just before he was captured, said it was the Hunters. I figured you'd know the name." She stated, turning the investigation back to him.
"Excuse me, did you just tell me… DID YOU. JUST. TELL ME TO SHUT UP?!" Steve roared at Wolffe, arrogantly interrupting Molly and her cross-examination session. His eyes were wide with disbelief that the sergeant would be so rude.
Wolffe ignored Steve's continued outbursts. Without missing a beat, he went on to explain. "Well, the Hunters took control of Zone 2 several months ago, where this loud-mouthed Brit used to live before ending up here. Zone 2 was Clarke Central High School, a few miles west of downtown." He twitched in his seat as he tried to get comfortable, drawing a good breath before continuing. "But if the Hunters have my men, they're as good as dead. There's no fighting against them." He looked at her with blank eyes, and a hardened jaw. "I'm sorry, we just can't lose anyone else."
"If you don't fight them, then you're all going to end up dead." Molly muttered, crossing her arms. "Well," She huffed. "I'm going to find them, and I'm going to bring back Dominic and anyone else I find there."
"Right, you know what? Fuck you. I'm going out too." Steve announced in defiance, taking a step back beside Molly, giving her a quick wink. "If the Hunters are in Zone 2, I guess that's where I'm headed. You can try to stop me but fuck you, it's a free country. At least it was. Or will be. Or whatever. I'm out." He nodded his head at Wolffe, as if signaling his choice on an alliance.
"Fine!" Wolffe snapped, his eyebrows furrowing as he slammed his hands against the desk, the boom startling his men behind him. "Go with her and get yourselves killed! I'm not risking any more of my men's lives rescuing you!" He stared at them, his face a collection of coals burning behind his skin.
"Good! I don't want any of your men to stand by and watch as they realize that they're useless!" Steve retorted, receiving looks from everyone in the room before Molly finally finished the conversation.
"We'll be back by tomorrow, don't worry about us."
Taking a quick glance at Steve, she rolled her eyes and marched towards the door, only turning back to the boy following her when the door closed behind them. "You know where the armory is right?" She questioned with a look of contempt.
"Bitch please, I've spent a year in this place, I know it like the back of my hand. It's this way," The man quipped before heading joyfully off to the right, then abruptly turning back towards Molly. "Nope, it's actually in this direction." He muttered confidently.
"Ugh, why did I have to end up with the idiot," she muttered under her breath.
"No, you see, I was just testing you. You failed." He stated, taking yet another sudden change in direction as they reached an intersection.
The truck bounced with every hole in the road, each jolt causing Dominic's head to bang against the metal interior behind him. He grimaced as he struggled with the bindings tied around his wrists, not concerned if the bandits around him were watching his every move. They didn't seem to care nonetheless: they had already won. What could he do if he got free? He'd be dead the instant he made his move.
Opposite him, Tobias sat in silence, sweat and blood dripping down his face and gear while staring out over the trailer at the passing buildings as they flew by; Dominic could tell in his eyes that he had already given up, which angered the boy more than their capture ever could. They needed to find an opening, anything to make their escape, but Tobias just sat there in submission, waiting like a lamb for the slaughter. There was more history between UGA and the Hunters than Dominic knew, he could see that; why else would Tobias submit so easily? Why else would Sergeant Wolffe disapprove of the plan? The real reason had to lie behind the agreement Simmons mentioned before; Tobias was hiding something big, and whatever it was, Dominic was now involved, and had to find out.
The bandits around them laughed amongst themselves as they told jokes, some of them bold enough to throw insults in Dominic's direction; calling him a murderer, and a whole slew of curse words that hardly affected him in the slightest. Some of them sat back drinking whatever liquid was in their containers: surely alcohol, judging by the stench Dominic's nose picked up. They were a great bunch, he could tell by listening to the way they spoke about past stories of thievery and rape. Some mentioning the tales of their escape from prison on the first day of the apocalypse. One in particular, a lanky bandit, described how not one prisoner or guard had the virus, but saw the stories erupting on the television. He rallied the whole cafeteria against the guards, killing them all and taking the keys, only to turn his back on his prison buddies and lock them inside the gates once the guards starting reanimating.
Even now, especially after listening to these men talk about their hideous crimes and breakouts, he felt justified in killing these bandits, and if he had his way, they would join the list of the dead left in his wake. Murderous assholes deserved to be murdered by a murderous asshole.
The truck began to slow down as a large building loomed ahead of them, Dominic couldn't really see it very well from his seat, but the large fence surrounding the building was oddly like the one around UGA, although he could tell it was a different place entirely by the shape of the complex. The building overall was sort of downsized; less stories, though more windows. The parking lot in front of the complex was smaller and less spaced, with the overabundance of trees lacking, as well as the aroma of leaves. The bandit that told the story smiled in his direction as they approached the front gate, where two more bandits awaited their arrival as they pulled the gate open.
"I can't wait to see what the Boss has got in store for you, you little cunt," the man sneered, a devilish grin erupting from the corners of his mouth.
"Did you kiss your old prison mates with that mouth?" Dominic questioned without emotion, his eyes just as soulless as he felt.
The man scoffed as he toyed with his AK-47, "I should just kill you right 'ere, see who's laughing then."
"Leave him alone, Marcus," another man sighed as the truck came to a full stop within the compound.
"Fuck off Nathan, you don't have a say in this!" Marcus growled, his eyes marking this new contender in the conversation. Nathan was a rather scrawny man, his brown eyes seemed to almost laugh at Marcus's remark behind his pair of large specs. A little grin creased across his face as he stood up, glancing in Dominic's direction before returning to Marcus.
"Do you really want me to be the one that has to tell the boss you killed his prisoner? I'm sure he wouldn't be that happy, he'd probably just kill you instead." He muttered, stepping towards the exit of bed of the truck.
As the men file out of the truck one by one, Marcus locked eyes with Nathan before giving one last glare in Dominic's direction. "If you want to defend the fucker, go ahead. I'll make sure the two of you end up sharing the same cell." He stood up, dusting off his dirt-soiled clothes and jumping out of the truck, and leaving the two prisoners with the amused Nathan. The hum of the motor gently idled in the background for a few more seconds before dying out.
Dominic laughed as the man helped them to their feet. "Dissent within the ranks, my, you guys are a lovely bunch."
"Talking like that is only going to get you killed, kid," the man spoke in a soft tone as he pulled down the tailgate for the prisoners to sit on and drop to the ground.
Tobias lingered on the tailgate for a moment while Nathan and Dominic spoke back-and-forth. He stared at the complex, taking in a subtle breath before letting his boots touch the ground. Silent, he followed behind Nathan, no emotion in his expression with his eyes down watching the gravel he walked on.
"I don't really care about what you think," Dominic retorted as he followed Nathan towards the complex ahead, which Dominic now recognized to be some sort of school. The words "Clarke Central" were plastered over the entrance in white metal letters; the doors of the school were blown out and shards of glass hanging on to the pane, with only guards stationed outside keeping the exit secure. A large pole stood just in of the plaza, the American flag blowing in the wind, upside down. Nathan stopped just in front of the pole before turning around to face Dominic, jaw locked and eyes stern.
"Do you want to die?"
"I'm not gonna go down without a fight," Dominic confirmed.
"Listen to me, that confidence shit ain't gonna get you anywhere. Simmons hates people who disobey and backtalk him. I'm just trying to make sure you two get out of this alive," he sighed as he turned his attention to the flag above them. "Too many people have died already."
"What is he gonna do, spank me?" He rolled his eyes before the glare Nathan was giving him stopped him short, "Why do you even care about what happens to us?" Dominic scoffed, staring up at the bandit.
"Because some of us aren't happy with the way things are here. Adrian, one of those men you killed, was our best chance at stopping that psychopath, and now he's dead." He muttered, glaring at the prisoner.
"So… what? You think that I'm going to help you?" Dominic sassed, mentally filing Nathan under a red flag. He wasn't buying the whole 'I want to help you' thing, the guy was still a bandit, and until he truly proved his place, that's all he would be.
"Nathan! Hurry up with those fucking prisoners!" A voice from within entrance of the school broke up their conversation, forcing their eyes to turn toward the figure of Marcus leaning against the door, gripping his AK-47 with a gleam in his eyes for blood.
"Just… don't resist okay? I'll try to talk him out of killing you." Nathan hissed, shoving Dominic and Tobias forward, and into the school, Tobias fumbling his footing as the momentum nearly sent him crashing to the ground.
"That's a fucking leap of faith right there." Dominic stated bluntly, stomping ahead eagerly, awaiting the next bullshit situation he had to deal with.
The pair stood at the end of the hallway from the armory door, where two soldiers stood guard, both armed with assault rifles and sidearms strapped to their legs. "Any bright ideas, genius?" Molly muttered, the cool hallway air sending tiny goosebumps down her spine.
"Well, in the movies," Steve began, his sarcastic nature springing to life. "This is where the hot female protagonist uses her womanly wiles to distract the guards while the much more important male lead sneaks in behind them." He glanced over at Molly before gesturing at the men.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Womanly wiles? Wait, do you mean-?" Her eyes widened before settling on an annoyed glare.
"Strip down to your underwear and flirt with them so we can go rescue those poor, unfortunate souls? Yeah, something like that." He chuckled to himself.
"In your dreams, kid." She sighed, resisting the urge to grip the boy by his throat and choke him before turning back to the real problem.
"Well, if you have a better idea, feel free to share." He spread his arms out wide to receive her ideas as he leaned against the wall, the cold brick almost as embracing. "Who's this Dominic guy you're so intent on rescuing anyway?" His brow raising at his own question.
"A friend… It's not important right now," she retorted, her eyes remaining on the two soldiers down the hallway. "And, well, you know, we could just ask to go in." She shrugged, smacking her bitter whip of sarcasm. "After all, he did say we can go out. What are they going to do? Not let us have our own weapons?"
"I mean, I wouldn't put it past them. You can go ahead and try if you really want to, but while you're failing, I'll be back here, attempting to come up with a real plan."
She sighed. "Just watch."
She stepped from around the corner, the two guards glanced at her as she approached, unmoving as she stopped in front of them. Her subtle breaths relaxed as she prompted her cause. "I'm going outside the fence, Wolffe's given me permission to get my weapons."
"I'm afraid we'd have to hear it from the Sergeant himself, ma'am. No offense." The soldier muttered, foiling her plan, it seemed.
Steve stood snickering down the hall, watching as the conversation played out like a scene from a great comedy. "There's no way in hell they're letting her in." He retorted to himself, dying for the popcorn.
Shoulders hunched forward, she took a deep breath, Steve's silent bellowing of laughter echoing in her mind while her thoughts raced wildly, searching for another alternative. Straightening up her posture once she finished her failed mission, she spoke. "Go ask him then, I can wait." She said calmly, returning the deadpan tone.
She turned to glare at Steve, her eyes glowing like wildfire as the boy let out a quiet laugh. The soldier on her right unclipped the radio from his belt and held down the plastic button to call in to Wolffe. "Sarge, I've got a couple civilians requesting access to weapons for a run, please advise, over."
After the static had passed, an audible sigh crackled on the other end. "Let them through, over."
The soldier put his radio back on his belt before returning his gaze to Molly, who had to fight the urge to gawk in surprise at the fact her plan had succeeded. "Alright, you can get your weapons," the man sighed, taking a step back from the door. She turned back to gloat to Steve, only to see him staring in disappointment, the metaphoric popcorn spilled onto the linoleum floor.
"My plan was better," he deadpanned as he marched towards them, sighing as the soldiers unlocked the door to allow them access. With a sly smirk, Molly stepped through.
"Man, these guys are fucking stocked," Molly breathed as she scanned the room; the tables were still in their pattern, five by four, the black, dust covered surface not even showing as the metal stacked in untidy piles, just enough to not be Tetris-styled. The walls were made of sheetrock with vanilla wallpaper covering the base. The memories of the school's past still echoed out through dried gum and molded stains of unknown liquids left on the walls. The inspirational one-lined posters - "confidence", "persevere" - still hung on their nails with dust and debris clinging to the once shiny glass frames. To the right of the door, in the center of the room was the cliché brown teacher's desk, toppled over with various weapons like grenades and flash bangs stashed in and around the drawers, with random firearms leaning against the edges, zip ties strung between the triggers. Behind the desk a dusted chalkboard rested, its final lesson still etched on the board, "The Laws of Gravity", hidden behind the debris. Small splotches of dried crimson were glued in and around the corners.
Along the perimeter of the room, the science equipment and leftover school supplies were stockpiled in corners and along the walls, gathering the familiar clumps of dust; empty beakers smashed on the ground from rough handling, broken glass scattering the perimeter of the room (a mess a man with no shoes would never survive), and bookbags and planners stuffed between the crevices. Light filtered in between the cracks of the blinds covering the windows, lighting up the center of the room where small wrapper fragments could still be seen upon further inspection, most of the sticky substances already gone and out on the bottom of an unwary soldier stepping in the wrong place. Sprawled out among the tables, were various assault rifles, pistols, shotguns, and, few and far between, rocket launchers (sadly, after a brief second of investigation, no rockets were found in the room) and other heavy weaponry. Towards the back of the room, laid an assortment of knives, ammo, and melee weapons laid neatly on their table. As her eyes picked apart the room, she could see her pickaxe awaiting her, growing cold from the lack of her body heat. She darted across the room, the sound of glass crunching under her shoes as snatched it up. "And boy have I missed you, Hilda!" She exclaimed, hugging the pickaxe. After the brief hugging session, she retrieved a pistol from the table beside her, and helped herself to an AK-47 from another close by, quickly making mental notes to where the all the important parts of the rifle were: the safety, and how to unclip the magazine. She grabbed a couple magazines for the road before Steve's voice filled the air behind her.
"You named your pickaxe Hilda? The fuck?" Steve tried not to laugh as his eyes scanned the room for a weapon, his eyes fixing on a SPAS-12 lying next to a small box labeled with a crinkled piece of paper 'WARNING; 12 GAUGE, DO NOT SHOVE IN EAR' across it. After grabbing the shotgun, he picked up a sidearm and some ammo, and a knife with a long, curved blade and turned his attention to the woman glaring at him.
She swung her pickaxe through the air, listening to the air rushing around the metal before placing it in its familiar sheathe on her backpack, where it had been missing for far too long. "Hilda was my sister, it seemed like a good name." She muttered as she moved towards the door, where the two soldiers still stood guard against the wall. "Now let's get going, before I end up leaving you behind."
Clementine stared out of the window as only the sliver of golden sunlight remaining on the horizon was blocked out by the tall trees and buildings surrounding the university. Molly had left her to find Dominic only a mere twenty minutes earlier; she wouldn't tell her why, but she knew something had to have gone wrong on the supply run. Why would Molly be so agitated otherwise? She left Clementine in the care of Dr. Ainsworth, in the library medical clinic. He was so encumbered with the tending of patients and managing the space to watch over her, only briefly popping in to say hello and check on her wound before moving on again. After another ten minutes passed by, slowly but surely, the little child evaporated from his memory, leaving him fully focused on the sick men and women filling his clinic. There were more sick today than usual; the beds overrun by the old seeking treatments for diseases and medicine for their arthritis and other elderly troubles, while the rest of the beds were filled with patients coughing and hacking, a strange ailment Clementine couldn't identify plaguing their bodies.
"Mr. Ainsworth?" Clementine had called, her voice like a whisper within the crowded noise of the library/clinic. Makeshift beds lined the room, the shelves of knowledge pushed to the side for the more primary matters at hand. Clementine watched as the few men and women bustled about, her statute nothing but another shadow from the lingering tree outside. Some soldiers were helping others into their beds, some out of them, others rushing to and fro for medicine that may or may not have been available to those who needed it.
"Dr. Ainsworth…?" Clementine asked once more, alas she couldn't see nor hear the doctor anywhere, as if he ceased to exist in the crowd of the sick. Finally, she sighed and took a few steps towards the lingering exit door ahead of her, boredom and a burning desire to explore luring her into the possibly unknown. With nobody paying any mind to this girl's shadowing presence, she left the building unseen.
She shivered as the temperature continued to drop outside, dark clouds were looming in the distance, barely visible in the dim light as she stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. It certainly felt peaceful here to her: the happy faces (well, as happy a person can be in this new world they found themselves in), the soft snow crunching beneath her feet, a nice fence between her and the cruel world beyond. Fires burned across the courtyard in the center of each group of tents, most of them kept to barely embers so the flames wouldn't cast too much light into the city. It was a smart move, the walkers roamed all over the city, she was surprised that they have lasted this long without the dead breaking down their door.
Last time she stayed in a big city like this, she lost everyone she cared about, one by one; part of her conscience knew staying here was going to be a bad idea, but everyone seemed so nice here, even the soldiers, who gave her brief nods and warm smiles as they passed her by. They had a system that worked, something that Clementine's group always lacked, and she was determined to find out what it was.
She slipped on the black gloves she acquired from the laundry room and grabbed a handful of snow in her hand, inspecting each crystallized flake with a blank face as she let it pour to the ground in a steady stream. Being behind walls meant that maybe she could be a kid again, and it didn't snow very often in Georgia, so she was going to take advantage of the situation. She got on her knees and started scooping up the snow surrounding her, balling them up together until she formed the base of what would be her first ever snowman. She had never made one before, but they always made them in movies, so it couldn't be that hard. Her fingers grew numb as the snow soaked through her gloves, forcing her to stop and rub them together for warmth occasionally, before continuing. Finally, she finished the body and stood up to admire her handiwork. It wasn't bad… the body was a little lopsided, and it was a bit small for size, but there just wasn't enough snow around her to make it bigger. She scratched her chin for a moment as she searched her surroundings, but all she could see were tiny strips of grass poking about the wet ground for breath. Her eyes wandered for anything to use for the arms, eyes, and nose. Out a few yards, beneath a willow tree swishing in the wind, she found a few sticks calmly laying in the snow. As she ran and picked them up, she noticed thin pieces of wood sticking out, luckily having several smaller twigs branching off them to form hands. She smiled with glee as she returned to her lopsided snowman and stuck them into each side, pointing one at a higher angle so it looked like her creation was waving at her, wishing her a swell day. She let out a tiny giggle as she waved back at her new friend.
"So, you're the new girl," a light voice called from behind Clementine, startling her as she swiveled around to find the source of the voice, only to see three boys about her age examining her with rolling eyes. The one in the middle shrugged before continuing, "You're don't look so tough."
Clementine glared at the boy as he smirked. He stood tall, an inch or so above her, his eyes like tiny beads, as if he were searching for something he couldn't find. He was lanky, his bony arms crossed, with his right hand missing, the nub a fleshy stump that was almost to his elbow. His brown hair laid flat against his head, neatly combed back and so short it didn't even reach his eyes. He wore a white jacket, zipped up to his neck with a necklace beaming from the sun, slowly letting up as the ball of fire fell beneath the university. His blue jeans were torn, spaces ripped near the knees.
"I don't need to be tough," she deadpanned, her golden eyes glowing in the waning light.
"'Cause you get your crazy daddy and his ugly girlfriend to kill 'em for ya, right?" The boy laughed, fist bumping the two boys behind him as he took a step towards her, turning back at her with a dead look and knocking off her hat with a swipe of his hand. "You're just a prissy little girl, making ugly snowmen, and wearing stupid-"
"You know what," her eyes narrowed as she grinded her teeth, her hands transformed into fists as she resisted the urge to punch the brat in the face. "I've had to kill people much scarier than you. My 'dad' didn't kill them, and neither did Molly, I did. So, unless you want to be next, back off."
The boy's friends laughed as it became his time to narrow his eyes, the Battle of the Insults commencing. "That's funny, coming from a scrawny little girl like you."
"That's funny, coming from a boy with a missing hand," she retorted, receiving outbursts of 'OHHHH's from the audience of two sidekicks.
"Tom, leave her alone before she kicks your ass." A feminine voice called out from behind Clementine, forcing the four children to turn their gaze to the young woman approaching them. The middle boy, Tom, glared at her for a few more seconds before grunting out in defiance.
"Come on, guys." He whimpered.
He stomped away as his buddies snickered in his direction, their loyalty to their friend completely swept away as Tom's cheeks reddened. The woman approached Clementine, with a soft smile on her face as she picked up Clementine's fallen hat and wiped the snow off, placing it back in its place on the girl's head.
"You're a lot like me when I was your age," she laughed, her short bronze hair flowing in the wind as she peered down at the little girl. Her blue eyes seemed to smile at her, sending a wave of relief through Clementine's small adrenaline-fueled body. "I didn't take anyone's shit, just threw it right back at them," she smiled down at the little girl before sighing. "Tom's a problem child, his parents have pampered him ever since he lost his hand, and his friends treat him like he's the toughest boy they know. It's nice to see him knocked down a few notches."
"He's an asshole," Clementine stated, her eyes returning to the silhouettes of the boys in the distance.
"He is, but Brian and Caleb aren't that bad when they're not following Tom around like lost puppies…" She laid her hand on the little girl's shoulder as her eyes softened. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"No," she replied.
"Good," she took in a deep breath as she visibly relaxed, "anyway, I don't think we've actually met yet. I'm Chloe."
"Clementine."
"That's a pretty name."
Clementine smiled. "Thanks."
Chloe smiled back as she looked at the snowman beside them. "Come on, I'll help you find something to use for the face." She laughed, the familiar coals and carrots absent from this odd snowman.
Clementine smiled as she followed Chloe towards the school. Maybe it won't be so bad here after all.
Tobias stared at his hands in the eternal darkness as his erratic breathing filled the miniscule room he found himself in. The room was stripped bare of any items or furniture, leaving only him behind to sit in the darkness. The walls encircled him mere inches away from his body but remained far enough away that he felt isolated in a pit of nothing; the fact the walls existed so close caused his breathing to become frantic and escalated his already uneven heartbeats. He finally knew how it felt like to be trapped like an animal; his hands were tied behind his back, and a thick layer of duct tape was draped over his mouth. His lips were dry, the tape constricting the heat from his breath leaving his body. The air was humid and only getting hotter with every rampant breath he drew. The only sign that he wasn't in some hellish void was the thin sliver of light at the bottom of the closet door in front of him. Footsteps occasionally created dims in the light as they passed by, each set of feet accompanied by raucous laughter and incomprehensible conversations, their voices like echoes through the walls.
As soon as Simmons had his two new prisoners inside the school, he locked them both into the smallest closets he could find. Tobias had to watch as Dominic struggled to get free and make a break for it, only to end up with massive blue bruises all over his body and face where his captors beat him. The two prisoners locked eyes for a fraction of a second before the two men manhandling Tobias shoved him into the first closet, his head smashing against the concrete wall with a powerful thud before the door slammed closed.
What felt like hours have passed since then, and his breathing and adrenaline levels remained the same. Eventually, he knew that Simmons would drag him out of there to be questioned, about what, he had no clue. He wouldn't be keeping them here if he didn't have plans for them, so something had to happen. That something came in the way of sudden shouting in the hallway, the voices hollering and screaming in all directions before the closet door finally burst open. Tobias's vision blurred by the sudden spectacle of light, a blurry silhouette standing in front of him for only a moment before he felt something snag on his shoulders and drag him out, a breath of fresh air entering his lungs. As his vision sharpened, he noticed Simmons had dragged him out, and the two henchmen were now wrenching him to his feet.
Simmons smiled down at his prisoner as he glared back, the burning fury still simmering in his eyes behind the overwhelming look of fear etched across his face. "Ah, Tobias, are you finding your accommodations to your satisfaction?" He asked, his tone hopeful, yet demeaning, like an old hotel employee who secretly hated everyone. The soldier said nothing as the bandits' grips on his arms tightened. "No," Simmons laughed, as if deeming his question as silly. "I'd imagine not, but you understand that consequences were needed for your disobedience. But, needless to say, you won't be going back in there again, I promise."
His gaze focused on his subordinates before he signaled them to follow him. They led Tobias through the labyrinth of hallways; old hallways with the school colors still brightly shining through the apocalypse, only minor fading and peeling of the paint while the school itself hasn't been functioning properly in over a year and a half. The lockers looked like photographs, frozen in time, unmoving, unopened. While Tobias was led down the corridors, the thought drifted through his mind if any of them were being used. Holding weapons? A prisoner's head? He would never know. The bandits pulled on his arms, forcing Tobias to nearly fall flat on his face once they reached their destination: the principal's office.
"Welcome to my office." Simmons announced boisterously as he entered the room, which he had converted into his own personal living quarters.
His guards shoved Tobias into the office and threw him into the seat across from Simmons's desk, wrapping his arms around the back of the chair and ripping the tape off his mouth before they turned to their leader, who waved them off. After they closed the door, Simmons laid back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk as he studied the man before him.
"We've got a lot to talk about," Simmons started with a heavy breath, his foot pivoting from side to side as he eyed his 'student'.
"I want to see him," Tobias croaked, his dry mouth barely starting to begin salivating again.
"I know you do, and don't worry, you will. I'm a man of my word. I just wanted to have a calm chat with you first." He spoke, his calm demeanor almost convincing.
"You kill my men, capture me, lock me in some closet, and expect a calm chat?" Tobias spat, his adrenaline spiking a bit.
"The fact you're sitting here at all is a fucking miracle, Toby. See that head over there on the shelf?" Tobias cocked his head slowly to the side to view the shelf Simmons was pointing at behind him. It was your average book case; with many rows of tiny little knick-knacks, mostly just random shit thrown on the shelves and some even laden with dust, bringing the idea a few were left from before the apocalypse. On the very top shelf was the mutilated, severed head in question.
It belonged to a black man, his head cleanly shaven with a thick beard covering his jaw. A thin layer of dried blood pooled underneath it as it sat on top of a rusted metal dinner plate and was covered by what appeared to be a broken fish bowl. The face no longer had the bright, charming smile it once could've had, but now numbed to the world around it. The skin was rotting throughout its face, leaving gruesome cracks as wide as the Grand Canyon. The man's eyes were just as Simmons had hoped for them: a colorless hue, the pupils still as frantic as the day he died. A thin stripped gash was at the top of its forehead, where a knife had clearly ended the head's life. A tiny drip of blood still clung beneath the gash, dried and done with.
"That was the last person who pissed me off," Simmons explained with glee. "I cut him up and ate the meat for dinner. And you know what he did to piss me off?" Tobias turned away from the zombie heads to listen to this maniac speak, praying for a way to get back to Dominic and escape this school-turned-asylum hellhole.
"He didn't obey. He withheld information! Sound familiar?" His voice changed dramatically as he snapped at Tobias and swung his feet off the desk.
Tobias stared at him without saying a word, his face turning pale while not daring to look at the shelf behind his captor.
"And let's not forget our friends over here," Simmons pointed towards another bookcase flanking him on his left. There was no color left in Tobias's face as he recognized who the heads belonged to. "You see, you're not the fucking good guy here, Tobias. Look at them." He paused for a moment as if he had a sudden epiphany. "Do you remember their names?"
Tobias gulped as he stared at each head, already knowing where Simmons was going with this visual torture. At a glance, the heads were all completely different from the first, the disembodied monsters still alive and breathing. Tobias knew if he were to get out of this alive, he would never get that horrific sight out of his nightmares. Their eyes were still wandering; one of them was looking around frantically, as if itching to bite a victim, to bite him. The others were more curious, wondering why they couldn't move, if they were wondering at all. The noise they made would haunt Tobias the most; a faint gurgling, growling noise, like a trio of off-pitched children dying in a fire, yet, so soft you could've mistaken the hellish noise for a running AC if you were distracted enough to not see them beforehand.
The first head was clean-shaven, like the other, but his silky eyes glared back at him as if damning Tobias. His nose purple and snapped out of shape, where it had most likely received a hard punch just prior to death. "Private James McKittrick." Tobias whispered, his heart beating faster and faster as he moved down the hellish list. The next head had chopped, dirty blond hair hanging above his frantic, soulless eyes. They jerked every which way, not even noticing Tobias staring directly at him. His skin was peeling away around his cheeks, revealing the blackened, rotten meat within the head's mouth. A few blackened slivers had evidently fallen out of its head, the remaining molded meat resting against the broken bowl. His teeth were a mustard yellow, chips and cracks missing throughout his jaw. Before Tobias looked away, he swore in his heart he noticed a tiny maggot sliding around inside its mouth. "Doug." He muttered to the callous bastard smiling back at him, who kept these heads cruelly living inside little glass bowls, as if they were some trophy busts of a skilled hunt.
The final head stopped his heart completely, tears pressing against his eyelids while he spat out the final name. It was the head of a child, no older than nine or ten, who's once long blonde hair that used to dance in the winter sun was now cut to its neckline. Her hair was matted, and dirt clung to her roots and throughout the strands and clumps, hanging down like vines around her severed neck. Her mouth moved gently, as if muttering her final words over and over, but only joining in to the trio of a severed choir. Blood dripped through her pale nose, the black drips leaving dried trails down her skin. Her eyes met his, her final, innocent look still etched in her eyes while they looked, glancing from time to time around the room. He gulped before finally finding the courage to say the words. "Abigail Washington."
"Good, good. I was beginning to think you really were a heartless cretin." Simmons clapped his hands as if praising the man for a spectacular performance. "I want to personally thank you for bringing them to us, they were delicious. James was a bit stringy, but that Doug guy, mmmm he had a good layer of fat on 'im. And don't get me started on poor, sweet Abigail. She didn't have much meat on her, but man, women always taste great... don't give me that look, I didn't rape her if that's what you're thinkin'." He laughed, turning back from the lovely display he'd created to continue chatting with his prisoner.
The room fell into a deathly silence as the soldier's mind reeled from the despicable horrors he had caused. He knew the Hunters had wanted them for food, but he always pushed that thought aside, trying to hide what he had done to these innocent civilians even from himself. But the reality of the situation sat snapping their jaws with eternal hunger mere feet away from him, sending dark shivers down his spine and his stomach into a never-ending pit. His body shuddered and shook with such ferocity, the chair physically moving backward, as if it was trying to escape the psychopath too. "Y-you... keep their heads like... trophies?!" Tobias screamed as he finally built up the courage to shout at the top of his lungs, "you sadistic piece of shit!" He thrusted himself forward, only for the chair to topple over, his bindings keeping him in place as his face smashed against the carpet.
The man roared with raucous laughter as he watched the pathetic soldier fall on his face. He pushed himself out of his seat and stepped around his desk, his boots like giants to Tobias as Simmons yanked the chair back onto its feet. He smiled his eager, yellow-toothed grin as he whispered in the soldier's ear. "They're not trophies, my boy. They're reminders. They're there to remind me of the coward Tobias Kennedy, who traded them over like cattle to save his son's life."
"You're absolutely fucking insane." The coward whispered.
"Don't act all high and mighty. You're the one who gave them to me, that makes you a goddamn hypocrite, Tobias. I know where your loyalties lie, and if you don't cooperate, then everyone at your camp will know too. Now, are you going to be a good boy and answer my fucking questions?" His suggestion was nothing less than an evil gimmick, especially when the Devil whispered a hefty reward in his ear. "Hell, I'll even throw in the chance for you to see your son."
The soldier looked up at his captor, his eyes glazing over as he spoke the words, defeat evident in his broken voice. "Do I have even a choice?"
"You're goddamn right, you don't." Simmons replied vociferously, spit hitting Tobias's ear before the man's voice returned to a harsh whisper. He leaned in closer, his palm resting on Tobias's shoulder. "Just remember, if you lie to me, I'll beat you so fucking hard, your face is going to look like humpty-dumpty after he jumped off the fuckin' Empire State Building, and then I'll do the same thing to your boy. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Tobias gulped as Simmons returned to his seat and plopped his feet on the desk. A brief flash of something crossed his face, as if sickened, before it finally settled in a frown.
"The boy… it seems kinda suspicious that he took out five of my men all alone. He have a group at your camp?" Simmons asked, his tone returning to the suave baritone of a businessman and friend, with the threats he uttered completely forgotten in his mind, even though Tobias's face was still pale as a ghost.
The soldier grew silent for a second as he tried to decide whether he could say. He had betrayed his people and gave everything away to a maniac just so he could survive, but could he throw Dominic, someone he's taken a liking to, under the bus too? He had only just met the boy, but he liked him, and that woman… well… he didn't want her or the kid hurt. Frankly, after seeing the hideous sights in this psycho's office, he didn't want anyone else getting hurt by this lunatic. However, his torturer's eyes narrowed as his grip tightened on the glass he had been drinking out of while waiting for Tobias's answer.
"He has a group, doesn't he? C'mon Toby, you've been a good boy so far, sort of. Answer the goddamn question." He pressed, the grip on his glass getting near its breaking point, his tone terrifying Tobias as the businessman tone shifted into something more threatening.
"W - We found him with a girl and a child." He stuttered, a tear breaking the dam and sliding down his cheek. He didn't have a choice, if he said nothing, Simmons would surely kill his son, and then him.
"So... you're saying that this teenage fuck, has a fucking girlfriend, and a child, and somehow managed kill my men. Oh my God, that's so pathetic. I'd kill 'em myself if I could. In fact, I'll just go get their fucking bodies and cut them to pieces, feed them to our fucking dogs. Well, if we had any. That'd show 'em for being such fucking pussies." He took in a deep breath, attempting to reel in his pent-up rage. "This girl and the child still at your camp?"
"They were still there when we left."
"Well then, time to go knock on your CO's proverbial door and get them. I hope the chick's hot, I haven't had a piece of ass in weeks." He licked his lips as he shot up out of his chair, the idea of hitting that young woman making him smile with unadulterated glee. "Marcus!" He called in a cheerful manner. The guard standing just beyond the door rushed in at the sound of his name. "Take our esteemed guest to see his son, will you? And get Nathan to bring in the kid, I want to speak to him before I go and fuck his girlfriend." Marcus nodded curtly before marching towards the chair and cutting the ties around Tobias's wrists and pulling him out of his chair and forcing him through the door.
"You keep bein' a good boy, Toby," Simmons called as Tobias was escorted away. "You've earned yourself dinner and a bed." Tobias's heart sank as he looked back to see Simmons toying with a small black knife. He didn't want to know the horrors he just unleashed onto Dominic's friends, but, based on the way Simmons was grinning, it wasn't going to be good.
Great fucking work, Tobias, you did it again.
It wasn't long before the sun had completely fallen underneath the horizon, leaving Molly and Steve in near total darkness as they trekked further and further into the abandoned city. Molly had no intention of stopping for the night, but when the growls of the dead started to reach their ears from somewhere in the veil of darkness, stopping became inevitable. The brick houses bordering the street were mere silhouettes in the distance, just small spaces here and there a bit darker or closer than the rest. If she studied them hard enough, she could make out a wall or a door, possibly even see a bit of moonlight reflecting off a piece of glass, signaling it was indeed a building, several of the growling noises she heard emanated from these blackened structures. A few feet in front of the houses, a row of willow trees sat in immeasurable silence; thin outlines of darkness with sinister, wilting branches sticking out, few and far between. As they looked down, all they could see was the rocky texture of cement a few feet in front of them; the road meant nothing at night except the difference between a gravel and paved surface. A few seconds passed before a building that had no noise coming within earshot appeared on their right. The moon suddenly seemed to disappear as black clouds rolled over the horizon, leaving the entire street darker than a mother's womb. Molly flicked on her flashlight to inspect the building, it was a bookstore next to what appeared like a disemboweled pizza joint. Finally, with a huff and a couple glances, she gave in and jerked the boy she had in tow toward the building.
"There, that's our abode for the evening," she muttered as she unsheathed Hilda and tossed the flashlight to the boy, stepping toward the store, her eyes scanning the parking lot for any dangers that might be hidden within the abandoned cars littering the lot. The cars were few and far between, though the lot itself seemed to remind her of the size of a football stadium. They marched between the husks, checking for any bodies, dead or alive, or any useful items hidden inside. Steve held his shotgun tightly in his left hand as he followed the woman between the abandoned vehicles, each row bringing them closer and closer to their destination. The dark, inconspicuous front doors of the bookstore were like a victory to him; the ability to carry on his sassy comments for another day. For Molly, on the other end of the spectrum, this was only a stop: a means for survival, and a crossroad to getting to her friend.
"Really? A bookstore? Couldn't you have at least picked maybe, I don't know, a strip club?" Steve deadpanned, sparking the conversation.
"What? Do you expect there to be women there to dance for you?" She quipped, turning to give him a stern look that seemed completely useless in the darkness.
"I mean, you could always dance for me." He offered, a sly smile emanating from him.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." She growled, turning back towards the parking lot.
"Also, you never know, maybe the zombies can dance. Not that I'm into that sort of thing, mind you. It's just a thought."
"You can't get any weirder." She hissed, keeping her mind on the task at hand.
"I can try-"
The conversation ended abruptly as they reached the glass door to the bookstore. She turned towards Steve, bringing a finger to her lips to shut him up, before slowly stepping up to the doors and peering inside; nothing. Only shelves of untouched books and tables going around the store. With a slight of hand, she began pulling the door open. She couldn't hear anything inside, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything. Holding on to the top of her pickaxe and, with care, she banged Hilda against the glass a couple of times before listening again. Sure enough, there it was, the moans of a walker and the scratching sound of its feet dragging across the store's carpet. She turned back to Steve, "Hold the door."
He did as he was told, without remark, propping his shotgun against the brick wall as Molly took a step back and raised her weapon in the air, waiting for the walker to come into view. After a couple of seconds, it appeared at the door, leaving her only a moment to bring the pickaxe down on its skull and pierce its brain with a squishy splat, blood and brain matter splashing against the glass door and onto her clothes. Steve simply watched in awe as she yanked Hilda out, the corpse collapsing to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Alright, hand me the flashlight, and move this thing for me, will ya?" Molly muttered, not even looking back at Steve as she took the flashlight from the boy, who grumbled under his breath as he let go of the door and dragged the body towards the parking lot; out of sight, out of mind.
The interior of the store was lined with maple bookcases, each filled with dozens and dozens of books; short stories, novellas, series, everything an author could dream of. She let out a short laugh; looks like novels aren't exactly in high demand in the apocalypse. To her left, a large counter stretched from one end of the store to the other, a cash register sitting directly in the middle, while various displays of paper weights and oddities lined the rest of the counter. Behind the counter, a door led into what appeared to be an office, and rows of shelves accumulated with coffee items; cups, a coffee maker, some coffee beans and powdered creamer. The smell soothed her nerves as she turned her attention back to the rows of bookcases, shining the light down each row for any sign of more walkers. The floor was strewn with fallen books and paper, some areas covered with dried blood and gore. Towards the back of the store she found another corpse splayed on the floor, most of its body eaten or torn off; its head was ripped in half, leaving behind a mess of chewed brain matter and coagulated blood. She felt the acid in her stomach slowly rising up her esophagus, but she swallowed it back as she covered her nose, this new, familiar smell not so inviting. The store itself was clear of any real threats, so she returned to the front counters, where Steve awaited her return.
"All clear," she stated in a neutral tone as she approached him. "There's a corpse in the back, but it won't be coming back."
"That's good to know," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes while scrunching up his nose from the smell.
"Let's stay in that office in the back, probably will keep out the smell," She lifted the furnished plank of wood used as the entrance to behind the counter and scanned her light through the office, it looked clear too. "Too bad we don't have thicker coats," she muttered as she shivered slightly, the cold night air evident in the office.
"Don't worry, we can cuddle to keep warm," Steve winked as he followed her into the office.
"Seriously, do you want a pickaxe in the face?" She growled, her eyes shining with anger in the dim light.
"Not really, no. But, I had to try." He giggled, stepping back from the suspecting axe murderer of good jokes.
She grumbled several curse words under her breath before storming off into the office, leaving Steve alone to bring in the bag of supplies they had left at the entrance. He cautiously stepped back through the plank divider and into the center of the aisle, only noticing the shelves in front of him. Walking with one foot and tapping the ground with the other, he managed to find the glass door with his face, leaving a generous bump in his confidence. Searching the ground with his hands and feet, his right leg finally touched something solid, and he felt the bag with his hands. Fucking finally, you invisible piece of shit. Standing back up on his feet, his hand easily maneuvered the invisible world to find his shotgun, laid peacefully against the brick wall. With his heart beginning to flutter, he swung the door open and rushed back inside before anything could ambush him, and rammed his right side into the counter, cursing as the pain shot up his hip before successfully finding the plank again, and stepping carefully into the office, leaving the items beside the door on his way in.
Molly was sitting in a chair with her feet reclined on the desk, not making a sound before finally letting out a deep sigh as the racket that was Steve stumbled into the office and sat in the chair opposite her. Silence filled the air as Molly clicked off the flashlight to conserve its batteries, the sudden action causing Steve to jump slightly. The only thing he could hear in the darkness was her chair creaking as she swiveled in it.
"So... 'Dominic'... who exactly is this lucky bloke to you?" Steve croaked, breaking the silence between the two, feeling as if he was speaking to thin air in the pitch-black darkness. For a second, there was an awkward silence before Molly finally replied.
"I met him and Clementine a year back, in Savannah. We've been surviving together ever since." She stated, not missing a beat.
"You know, I actually knew a Dominic before all of this," Steve added, still curious about the man they were looking for. "He was rather… round, kind of an asshole really. But he put up with my shit, so he was probably my best friend." The famous silence once again overtook the cadence within the tiny room, only the mere squeaking of his chair and the faint, off-key melody of the walking dead singing somewhere in the distant night piercing his ears. "And… you don't care."
"Not really," she answered bluntly, eyeing the darkness and everything that wasn't the annoying bastard.
"He must be quite the man then to have you so devoted in saving him."
"I told him that I wouldn't take care of Clementine alone, and I meant it."
"Sure, sure." He shrugged instinctively, not really caring if she couldn't see him. "Well, it sounds to me that you just don't want to be alone." He continued. "You love him, and you're going to risk your life to save him. Seems stupid if you ask me."
"I didn't really ask for your opinion on it," Molly deadpanned, waving her foot around in the darkness in boredom.
"I mean, seriously? I'm obviously way better looking than-" His sentence died off as a strange noise reached their ears. The faint melody Steve heard earlier became a wall of growls and moans, hitting them like a pile of bricks, coming from somewhere outside the store. Molly quickly rolled the chair back and grabbed Hilda, running towards the front door as Steve grabbed his shotgun blindly in the darkness. As he joined her at the entrance, they squinted to see thousands of walkers stumbling down the street not fifty feet away, the faint glow of moonlight breaking the storm clouds being the only method of identifying the monsters. While most of the beasts marched along the road like a crowd of drunken fools, at least twenty had broken off from the main group and were heading straight for the parking lot in front of them.
Steve sighed. "I really regret waking up this morning."