Day 1097

Thomas

Thomas ran for what felt like an eternity, but in truth it was something like twenty minutes. As he stopped for a break in a copse of trees, he prayed that he had put enough space between himself and the herd to prevent them from picking up his scent. Surely Phil's cooked flesh would distract them - perhaps it was what attracted them in the first place.

Sighing, Thomas pressed his hand against a tree and leaned forward. He would have to find somewhere new to stay and fast; most of his supplies remained in the docks and he couldn't go back there because the herd was probably storming through it like nobody's business. He had no food as he'd mostly been eating human meat for a while now and had not bothered to stock up on anything that came in a package. His luxuries had overcome him.

Thomas paused, closing his eyes and exhaling with exasperation as he felt pressure in his bladder. Groaning, he looked around to check for the dead and faced the nearest tree, unzipping the flies of his jeans so that he could bleed the lizard.

Taking a sigh of relief as his stream of urine spattered against the tree, Thomas looked over his shoulder and around the area once again as he allowed his body to do what came naturally. Smirking, he thought of how funny it would be if someone caught him in the act, so he piped up to tempt fate.

"I've been workin' on the railroad,

all the live-long day!

I've been workin' on the railroad,

just to pass the time away!"

Thomas chuckled loudly as he finished up. No one was around to see or hear him peeing. He was glad he hadn't needed to take a dump as he didn't think he'd be up to pulling his jeans all the way down, turning his back on the tree and grabbing the backs of his ankles as he desperately attempted to expel digested human flesh from his digestive tract. In the middle of nowhere.

Zipping up his flies, Thomas turned and pulled the handle of his machete out of the bag that was attached to his back. Leaving the puddle of urine alone to stagnate, he continued his journey through the woods, his weapon hanging down by his side as he strolled.

Before long a sense of paranoia overcame him. He glanced around, eyes narrowed as he studied the forest, but nothing immediately came to light. The dead were not clever enough to hide so he was most likely being watched by a person or two.

If he was being scoped out, there was nothing he could do about it. If they were planning to kill him they probably would have done it while he was freeing the beast all over a tree trunk so chances were they wanted to hook up and form an alliance. Most days, Thomas didn't go for alliances, but today was not 'most days'. He was in a predicament, had nowhere to go and nothing to eat or drink, so he was willing to chance it.

He didn't have anything to lose.

Thomas murmured under his breath, left hand shaking involuntarily as his neck jerked and contorted, scanning the brush, the undergrowth, the trees. Before he made a move he had to be sure he knew where this person was.

Then he saw it; a bush shook slightly, and Thomas' eyes focused. Staring through the branches and leaves, he saw a shoulder covered by brown fabric. Feigning ignorance, he span on the spot and walked a few paces away, pulling a different bush apart and glancing inside.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" he growled, acting as if he was unaware of the stranger's location. Keeping his back to their hiding spot, he allowed them to gain a false sense of security and kept them thinking they had the upper hand.

Without warning, he swivelled on the ball of his foot and pointed his blade outwards, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Behind him stood a crease-faced man aiming a crossbow at his chest. Judging by the red stains on his clothing he had come from the same direction as Thomas - away from the oncoming storm of dead.

"Had a run-in with the herd, huh?" Thomas sneered, neglecting to lower his blade. "Lot of 'em back there?"

The stranger shook his head. "I thoughd you were someone else."

"You don't know me, I could be someone else to who you expect." Thomas told him. "I can be anyone. I might not be me right now."

"Whad are you talking about?" the man asked, taking a nervous step back.

Thomas shrugged. "See, you're clearly being you. You're scared and you're backing off. I'm just saying that you never know if someone is who you expect them to be, just like I'm not the 'friend' you're searching for."

The man's eyes widened. "You've seen Lyle?" he asked. "Where is he?"

"I've seen no one, buddy." Thomas admitted. "Just assumed that you wouldn't be looking for an enemy, would you now?"

The man backed off a bit more. "I need to ged back to my people." he muttered. "I need to find Lyle."

People. The word sent sparks off in Thomas's head. While he wasn't the most sociable of survivors, the premise of a group oddly excited him. "You have a group?" he asked. "So, buddy, pal. Got any supplies? I'm awful hungry."

"I have to go." the man told him. "I'm sorry, I haf things to do." he aimed his crossbow away from Thomas's chest and turned to run off, but Thomas jerked forward, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back around. The oddly-accented man gulped as his crossbow was swatted to one side and Thomas's machete was pressed to his neck.

"Don't ignore me." Thomas seethed. "I hate it when people ignore me. You answer my questions and take me to your group because I. Am. Hungry."

"You're-" the man began, but Thomas hushed him.

"Don't say 'crazy'." Thomas warned him. "You don't want to know what happened to the last guy who called me that. Just tell me what your deal is and I won't kill you. I don't want to kill you but I might have to kill you. I'm smart; I knew where you were before you made yourself known, so I can help you find your friend... but only if you give me more details about this group of yours."

The man choked again, prompting Thomas to loosen his grip slightly. "I..." the man began. "I have a setdlement. We came oud here looking for someone."

"You didn't think to look there, did you?" Thomas groaned. "He's probably gone right back home."

"We had a meed-up point." the man told him. "A shed not too far from here; it's probably overrun now."

"So what's the problem? Just head back to camp."

The foreigner paused. "Id's not dat easy any more."

Thomas scowled. "That would be because I'm here. You think I'm dangerous, but I'm only dangerous if you're on the wrong side of me. Get on the right side of me and I'm good to keep around. Just remember that."

The man shuddered. "You said you can help find Lyle?"

"I can track him, but only if you promise to take me to your settlement."

The man paused. "How can you track him?"

"I have experience tracking people." Thomas muttered bluntly. "I never lose someone once I have sight of them." he glared at the foreigner to instil his message. Much like he had never lost Phil and had succeeded in killing him, he could find this 'Lyle' without too much trouble once he found a trail. Much like this stranger would never leave his sight if he did not cooperate.

The foreigner took a deep breath. "Okay," he sighed, "okay, you can help."

Thomas relaxed his grip, satisfied. "Name's Thomas. You got a name, buddy, pal, friend?"

Gulping, the crossbow wielder slung his weapon over his shoulder, muttering "Anders."

Thomas patted his new 'friend' on the back. "All right, Anders. Let's go find your friend, then we can all go home to this settlement of yours."

Anders looked away, concerned. "Gud hjälpe mig."