Ch. 29

AN: Hey guys and girls! Okay so there has been something that has been nagging me and maybe you too, but I don't think I've ever told you guys what Sam's guns are, and I apologize for that. His pistol is a Colt .45 Model 1911, and his rifle is an M16 with an ACOG. I am not sure if I ever said what his guns were so if not, then I am clarifying. Now, onto the story!

The flashlight scanned over the toppled over rows, the destroys items on the ground, and the dried blood from years before. Sam passed by the fruit and vegetables his nose crinkling and bugs flying in the air. The inside of the store was still warm enough, it seemed, to have flies.

Most of the section he was in only had moldy food but he was sure to be thorough as he scanned the section. He gripped his pistol tightly, the parts of his hand that weren't covered freezing and sticking to the guns metal. He hoped that he had no need of it. Everyday the magazines seemed to be getting lighter and lighter.

Bastard growled just as a clang was heard through the store. Sam whipped his bod around and shut his light off in one swift motion. His arms were tense and he held his breath. One second… two… three…

He took a step forward keeping his paces spaced out and slow. Ever step his eye would glance down, and he would redirect his foot if anything that would make noise was in the way. Bastard crept along the aisle as well, low to the ground, his thick white coat only slightly visible in the dark store.

There was a flash of light and Sam knelt to the ground as he heard several pairs of boots.

"Check out the place, with luck we'll find something."

"Johnny, not so loud."

"Why not? If there's dead here then it'll draw 'em out."

"Easy," Sam whispered as he crept forward, and holstered his gun. The little moonlight that the store allowed in gleamed against his knife. Sam put his hand to his throat and made a rasping noise as he shook one of the nearby knocked over aisles.

"You hear that?"

"Dead, sounds like it's trapped. I got 'em, you two go and grab whatever you can find!"

Sam continued making the noise, his throat beginning to hurt, but the light got closer, and closer. Sam stroked Bastards neck and just as the man appeared at the front of the aisle, tapped the hounds neck. Bastard immediately sprang forward pouncing onto the man who barely had time to react let alone scream. The dogs teeth dug into the mans neck and blood began to leak onto the floor and into Bastards mouth as the man gargled on his own blood struggling and knocking things over. His friends called out and Sam swore and made his way to Bastard. .

"Maith buachaill. Maith thú." Sam whispered as he walked to Bastard and then shoved his knife into the mans head. "Let's go get the others, aye?"

"Johnny? Johnny? Shit! That's no dead!"

Sam raised his pistol and snuck through the aisles, following the flashlights.

"What do we do?"

"Fuck if I know!"

Sam found the two men standing in the dim light of their flashlights, guns raised and shaking slightly, from the cold or fear he didn't know. Sam slid the slide of his gun back and saw that he had four rounds in the magazine.

Two men, two kills. Pop out, nail them both. Bastards the backup. Sam clutched his pistol tightly and peered out from the shelf he was hiding behind. The two of them were shining their lights around the store muttering under their breath. He could hear them mumble things along the lines of 'come out, stop hiding' and the like. Sam took a deep breath and patted Bastard on the head.

He sprang out of cover and fired off his first shot. The bullet flew through the air and the first man didn't have time to yell out in terror as the bullet tore through his eyeball and entered his brain. Blood sprayed out the back of the mans head and onto the other mans face who stumbled back before firing blindly at Sam. Most of his shots were wide and went over his head, harmlessly imbedding themselves into the shelves behind him.

Sam ducked out of reflex and waited for the shooting to stop. Bastard growled beside him and Sam tapped the dog on the head, and then the beast was off maneuvering quickly through the knocked over shelves and dried up puddles of blood.

"You're a dead man! You hear me?"

"Not likely. I've killed tougher men than you and your friends."

"The fuck did you even attack?"

Sam shrugged knowing the man couldn't see. "You got in my way. Besides, you can't be too careful. You might have tried to kill me."

"Fuck you man! You're fucking dead!"

"Not yet."

Sam crawled on the ground, avoiding the light, and waited. He could hear the man breathing heavily, and smell the coppery scent of blood which had begun to overpower the smells the Sam had smelt when he had first entered the store. The sound of fabric sliding on the tile was quite noticeable and Sam debated on whether or not to peak over to see what was happening.

Bark! Bark! Bakr Bark Bark! Sam's head snapped up as he heard Bastard barking. He slowly slid his legs up, ready to stand quickly. You have three bullets Sammy, use them well.

"The fuck is that?" The man asked Sam could hear plenty of movement from where he was at now.

"Wild dogs are fairly common these days. I've heard they bite harder than Walkers. Blood draws them in, you've probably got a lot of it around you." The man gasped and there was a loud commotion, Sam could see in the shadows that he was scrambling away form the body. He took a deep breath, and got up.

The mans eyes met with his, and Sam pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the mans lower left torso and he screamed. Bastard sprang from where he was hiding and buried his teeth in the mans right hand making him drop the gun he was holding. Sam clicked the safety on his and holstered the weapon.

"Fuck! Fuck, my arm! Ah god!" Sam kicked the gun away from his reach and Bastard released his hold on the mans arm.

Sam drew his sword and watched as the mans eyes widened. He used his legs to try and propel himself away begging Sam not to kill him. Sam raised the sword, and brought it down.

The drive back was as comfortable as it could be. Long range scavenging missions were never very pleasant, but sitting in a car that reeked of blood and was uncomfortably cold, not to mention Bastard had pissed in the passenger seat, it just wasn't the way Sam had wanted to spend the mission. But he stuck with it, the only option was to walk, and he had less than a day to get to the rendezvous. Otherwise the others would pack up and leave and it would just be Sam and Bastard.

The snows had melted a decent amount in the weeks since the snowstorm that had enveloped the group. The time that they had sent frozen had done a number on their supplies, so Rick had put several expeditions together. Merle, Sam, and Abraham would go out on their own, find any supplies that they could, and in a weeks' time, meet at a point Rick had marked on the map. If they weren't there, then Rick and the others would leave. Sam looked at the watch Rick had given him, he still had a day to get there. Sam smiled, he knew he would get there.

Sam was fucked for lack of a better term. There was steam coming from under the hood of the car and there was a screeching noise as well. He stopped in the middle of the road and popped the hood. The remaining snow crunched under his feet and the cold air blew around his body. He pulled his coat tightly around him. He could smell smoke and a stinging in his eyes are he cot closer to the hood. Realization his him and he scrambled to the hood shoving it up and fanning the smoke out of the way.

A small orange flam danced in the engine and Sam quickly piled snow onto the part drowning it in frozen water.

"Oh, fuck me!" Sam said as he tried to figure out how he would make fifty miles in the snow with all of the supplies.

He trudged through the snow, a heavy pack, rifle, sword and pistol all strapped to him as he made his way. He had been walking through the snow for hours, barely covering six miles from the amount of mile markers he had seen. Only forty-four to go.

He could feel snow make its way into his shoes and melt making his feet soaked with melted snow. He could feel his toes freezing in his boots but kept going. Bastard walked slowly beside him his pants fogging the air and providing Sam with some kind of primitive traveling music.

Sam passed a Walker, hits legs buried underneath two feet of snow. Sam smiled at that, if there was one thing that the snow was good for, it was keeping the dead at bay. Either trapping them or freezing them, the snow helped enough.

He felt a cram coming on in his foot and stopped. He flexed his foot and began praying to not get a foot cramp, the last thing he needed was his foot seizing up and stopping him from getting to the group. He stood a deep breath and flexed his foot. Flex, relax, flex, relax.

He could feel the muscle tightening and then his foot froze and pain took hold.

"Fuck!" He fell to the ground and shoved his pack off of him. He quickly unlaced his boot and began massaging his foot as the excruciating pain gripped him. "Not, my fucking day, is it?"

Bastard whimpered and licked his bare foot and despite the pain Sam laughed at the dogs efforts to alleviate the pain, before he yelled out as another wave of pain hit him. He sat on the side of the road a few minutes, massaging out the cramp and running scenarios out in his head. Chances were that they wouldn't leave right at the one day, there would most likely be a day or two leeway for him and the others to get there. He hoped.

Sam laced his shoe and stood up, testing his foot for any signs or a second cramp. When his foot turned out to be fine, he began marching again, through the snow and cold.

Merle looked down at his watch before peering out towards the road looking for Sam. He was overdue by a day and a half. He had asked Rick to take a car and look for the kid but was denied. Shame, the kid was handy in a fight.

Rick had given Sam until the next morning to show up, otherwise, they would have no choice but to go on. No one said anything, but they knew that it was likely that he was dead. The kid might have been hard to kill, but cold, no food, and exposure could kill anyone. For all they knew, his dog had gotten hungry and killed Sam when he was sleeping for food.

"Anything?" Merle looked behind him and Saw Beth peering out, using her cupped hands as improvised binoculars.

"Not yet. Don't worry though, kids tough. He's out there. Probably takin' him a bit longer is all."

"Yeah, I—I know. Still, two days…"

Merle raised his binoculars again and looked. Nothing, nothing, and again, nothing. No noise, no shadows, not even a Walker. But for all Merle knew, that was all that was left of the kid.

"What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? Early in the morning," Sam sang softly as he trotted along. Usually he wouldn't sing for the sake of other people's ears, but it was just Bastard so he figured why not. Sam was well into his second day, and based on the fact that he had gone only seven or so miles in twelve hours, he was a bit worried.

His back was aching and he felt like his legs were practically jelly at that point, not to mention the blisters he had gained from running a couple of the miles when he had come across a small group of Walkers.

Based on his map reading he was still ten miles out before he could use his radio. The good radios that they had gotten were all out of batteries, so they had to ow rely on the cheap ones that they had scavenged from a few gas stations. Low battery life, shitty range, but they did their job when the group was in a jam.

He twirled his knife in his hand, keeping his mind off of the aches in his body and on the task at hand. He would make it. He had to, besides. They wouldn't leave him.

AN: Hey guys! Okay so here is chapter 29. THis is gonna start up a part of the story that I'm prett excited about. For those of you that wanted to see Sam like he was in his raider days, get ready. ~Pacco1