Ch. 31
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
Earl-eye in the morning!
Sam sang softly as he rode through the abandoned highway. Weeds and other forms of vegetation grew from under the asphalt and spread out from the cracks swallowing the road slowly. The hooves echoed through the woods attracting small bands of Walkers that were of no threat as long as Sam kept moving.
Bastard would wander off for an hour or two, leaving Sam by himself, the comfort of his two pistols all he had as the dog went off. The pistols were holstered in matching holsters under his arms, ready to draw at a moment's notice but hidden beneath a dirty brown poncho that he had scavenged from a fresh corpse he had made.
The fresh smell of spring filled his nose and he looked up enjoying the warm sun on his face after a brutal winter. He turned back to the road and saw Bastard making his way through the maze of deserted cars, a rabbit clutched between his teeth.
"Good lad. We'll stop soon how's that sound?"
"Oh you talk to him but not me?"
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He's real. You aren't."
"Oh come on Sam, I'm real."
"You're dead. For all I know the others are too."
"You don't believe that. You actually can't. Listen, Sammy-"
"Leave. Please Michael. I can't, not you."
Michael smiled and shook his head. "I taught you how to do this. To survive, not Rick, Merle, Daryl. Me. So if I were you, I'd be a bit more appreciative."
Sam couldn't look down at the ghost. "You taught me how to kill, and I learned. But I don't owe you anything. I put you out, I don't owe you anything."
The whiskey burned as it went down his throat. He had gotten some off of a small group that had been moving south. They made the mistake of putting a person that fell asleep on watch, and then it was like taking candy from a baby.
Beth had told him not to do it, no, the ghost Beth. After constantly having them in his mind for months at a time, he had trouble sorting them out, the ones that h he had last seen alive that was. The dead were the dead, but every time he saw the loving, he had to wonder if they were ghosts or not. It was troubling at times but he managed.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" He managed most of the time. Most of the time the talking was one on one, he would yell and get the anger out of him, and move on. Other times though, it grow, slowly and slowly it would grow, until the voices overlapped and the hallucinations would all surround him, shouting and cursing at him for what he had done. Nights like those he would climb a tree and strap himself in until the hallucinations passed and he would be able to move on.
"Murderer!"
"Thief!"
"Psycho!"
"Worthless!"
Sam would sit there and take the abuse, but he knew that it wasn't really the group that was saying it. No, it was his own mind.
His hands shook as he rode. He had not seen a living corporeal soul in weeks. The only game that he had managed to kill was the occasional squirrel. Which half of always went to Bastard. As he trotted along the highway he heard Beth humming to him. It was a song from home. Although not much of a singer, Sam did know how to play a few instruments, and had gladly taken to the school band where he had learned and fallen in love with more than a few songs.
Bastard barked and Sam pulled the Horse to a stop.
Beth squealed with excitement and stopped humming. "Wonder what this is. Walkers or people?"
"Shut up." Sam scanned the area around him and his hands gripped the pistols tightly, but kept them in their holsters. He could hear chatting coming from the woods, a lot of it. If it were night, Sam could have been able to hide and take whoever was there by surprise. But judging from the amount of voices and sheer noise, it was too big of a group.
"Hide boy." Bastard obeyed immediately and scurried off looking for a place to hide. The noise was deafening by that point whoever was coming toward him was no small group, probably a scouting mission for a settlement if anything, but, what did that mean? Were there settlements around the area, he was only a hundred or so miles out from D.C. it was completely possible.
Could he run and hide from these people or should he stay maybe fight or try and reason with them. For all he knew they weren't looking for a fight. But what if they were? What if they were marauders that fought and killed anything and anyone that they came across? But what if they knew Rick, and Merle, and Beth?
Sam tried to come up with anything that could help him. The bushed began to move and the voices were right on top of him at that point. He took a deep breath and let go of his pistols.
The group came out of the brush, laughing, and their weapons at ease.
One, a man with a patchy beard and a square jaw saw Sam and immediately raised his rifle calling for the others to do the same. Almost immediately seven guns were trained on him and Sam raised his hands his dirty face looking down and he could feel his throat dry up.
"Who are you?" the head demanded. The group spread out slowly all of them keeping their guns and eyes on him. Sloppy, no perimeter, perfect for an ambush, maybe I could have taken these guys.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that Sammy. They seem pretty hard core," Beth said as she weaved through the group.
"I asked you a question!"
"My names Sam." His throat felt scratchy and sore as he spoke, almost as if he had strep throat. "I'm alone." The others glanced at each other but kept their guns up. "You're not doing it right. You need to have two guys on me, the rest form a perimeter just in case of ambush."
"Oh because that's going to get them to trust you." Beth laughed and began examining the guns. "Hmmm, mix of M4's and M16's, 5.56 ammunition, stolen from military and police units, these are fully automatic Sam."
"Where are you from?"
"Ireland. I was here on a school trip. Listen, I'm tired, so if you're gonna kill me do it, if not, then let me pass."
A large man with a massive battle axe looked over at the patchy beard and shrugged. "He might want to meet him."
"How do we know he isn't one of them?"
"Look at him, he's been alone for months."
"I can practically smell him from here," A woman with a bow and arrow muttered.
"Not many places to shower on the road," Sam said.
"Come on Sam don't get mad. I mean you do stink. Oh wow, these guys have swords too!"
"We'll take him in. He moves a muscle take him out. Throw your weapons on the ground! Slowly!"
Sam did as he was bid, slowly unholstering his pistols and throwing them to the ground. He unsheathed his sword and hid the same before moving to his knives. The group became tense when Sam began to unsling his rifle and were quick to collect his weapons after they were sure that he had relinquished all of them. The bearded one had demanded that he get off of his horse but all Sam had done was stare at the man. This began an intense staring contest that had ended with Sam's horse being pulled in the direction of wherever the group was taking him. Sam looked to the brush and Sam Bastard stalking along ready to jump out.
"What a good Dog! We sure got a good one didn't we Sam?" We did Beth. We did. "Where are they even taking you?"
Sam repeated the question and the man pulling the horse. The large man with the battle axe turned and smile.
"We're talking you to the King dude."
AN: Hey guys, So I managed to borrow a laptop and typed this up pretty quickly for all of you! I hop you liked it and I cannot wait for you guys to see what is going to happen next! Review! ~Pacco1